Chapter 7 - Remaining at Home

"Letters have arrived for you, Lady Floyen," announced the servant.

I sat up, my interest piqued.

"They have arrived as anticipated."

Although my social standing was in disarray, it paled in comparison to the admiration people held for my father, a living legend.

"Please bring them here," I requested.

Merilyn entered the room, bearing a gleaming silver tray laden with a stack of letters.

"Here they are," she informed me.

I perused the letters one by one, unable to stifle a chuckle each time. Despite their sheer number, not a single one held genuine sentiments.

"It's as if they are telling me that my existence has been futile," I mused, bitterness tingeing my words. Yet, I remained unperturbed. "I am solely responsible for this," I admitted.

In the past, I paid no heed to others' opinions of me, consumed as I was by the pursuit of Mikhail's affections. Despite the offenses hurled at me, I bestowed favor upon him regardless of his treatment. Consequently, I became an outcast, and I had no one to blame but myself.

"Shall I store these letters away, Lady Floyen?" Merilyn interjected suddenly, her voice breaking my reverie.

I raised my gaze to meet her eyes. Having finished my perusal, she likely assumed I wished to have the letters stowed.

"No, I will personally reply to each one," I declared.

"Are you certain... you desire to respond to these letters?" she inquired, her eyes widening in surprise.

Her question elicited a chuckle from me. "Indeed, I am sure. They sent these missives out of concern, and thus, I must reply in kind."

Deep down, I understood that these people did not send me letters out of genuine worry. However, there were several reasons why I could not dismiss them as I typically would.

"Numerous nobles hold resentment toward me for disregarding them... I must demonstrate that I am no longer that person," I contemplated.

Regardless of how poorly I had been perceived previously, people would revise their opinions if I subtly but unmistakably transformed into a better individual. Penning replies to these letters was a crucial step in my plan, but I encountered an obstacle before I even began.

What should I write? I pondered.

Having been indifferent to the lives of others, I knew naught of their preferences, let alone how to engage in correspondence.

I hardly even know anyone well enough to offer them compliments.

An idea dawned on me as I cast a glance at Merilyn.

Come to think of it, Merilyn must have been crafting responses to these letters all this time.

While most envision a maid as one who solely performs household chores, maids-in-waiting, unlike their ordinary counterparts, possessed eloquence and knowledge of societal affairs. Tasked with assisting aristocrats, they typically hailed from fallen noble families or the middle class, which could afford them an education. In other words, Merilyn functioned as my secretary.

"I have a request, Merilyn," I spoke up.

"Pray, do share," she responded.

"Could you assist me in replying to these letters?"

Merilyn widened her eyes, her expression one of bewilderment. Understandable, considering I had never before sought her aid.

Well, I am no longer the foolishly prideful girl I once was, I reasoned silently.

I looked at Merilyn and addressed her, "I only need a cursory understanding of the families with whom we frequently interact."

"Yes, I shall do my utmost," she pledged.

I smiled at her cooperation and thanked her, conveying my gratitude. Her reaction was fleeting, a brief moment of perplexity preceding her swift recovery.

"Then, I shall bring you a pen and paper."

* * *

Merilyn stood outside the Duke's study, her expression rigid. Madam Perez, the head of housekeeping, glanced at her and announced, "This is the young lady who serves Lady Jubelian, sir."

Silence followed, but the door swung open.

Merilyn swallowed nervously and stepped into the room. Yet, the sight that greeted her transformed her trepidation into admiration. The Duke stood before a sizable window, his silver hair kissed by the fiery hues of the setting sun. He resembled a masterpiece come to life.

His voice snapped Merilyn out of her reverie.

"What has Jubelian been occupied with today?"

"S-she has been penning replies to letters after perusing a book," Merilyn stammered.

Her hesitant response evoked a subtle shift in the man's stern countenance.

"She engaged in reading a book?" he remarked, surprise coloring his tone. However, his expression reverted to impassivity as swiftly as it had wavered.

Merilyn stole a glance at his cerulean eyes, akin to the boundless sea, striving to maintain her composure.

Then, he posed another query. “What manner of book?"

"It revolves around estate management, sir," Merilyn replied.

Her answer provoked a slight furrowing of the Duke's brow.

"Why?" he inquired.

His query was not without reason, for Jubelian had never evinced interest in books before. Merilyn recalled Jubelian's words when she requested the book.

"I would be a hindrance to my father were I ignorant of the fundamentals.”

"She expressed her desire not to be a burden to you..." Merilyn ventured.

"I still fail to grasp her motive for reading such a tome," he mused, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Nevertheless, Merilyn sensed a marked difference in his demeanor compared to their previous interactions. Unthinkingly, she uttered her next words. "Perhaps... she yearns for a conversation with you."

The Duke stiffened at her audacity.

Merilyn swallowed nervously.

Did I utter something foolish? she fretted inwardly.

In that moment, she heard him speak, his voice low.

"She need not possess such knowledge to engage in conversation with me."

Despite his indifferent tone, a smile graced his features. It was a radiant sight that left Merilyn staring blankly at his countenance.

"Take good care of my daughter," he softly commanded, his expression resuming its former indifference as though he had never smiled at all.

* * *

Four days had elapsed since I sequestered myself within my chambers. During that time, I devoured the books borrowed from the library.

"I require a new book now," I mused.

Merilyn had departed on an errand, leaving Sella to attend to me in her stead. I regarded her.

"Is there something you need, Lady Floyen?" she inquired.

Unfortunately, I could not request Sella to retrieve books for me. Unlike Merilyn, who possessed an education, Sella was only literate to a basic extent.

"It would be better if I went to the library myself," I contemplated.

I did not wish for Sella to feel inadequate upon discovering my reasoning, thus I decided to assign her a different task.

"Sella, could you bring me some chocolate cookies and tea?" I requested.

"Yes, certainly! I shall return swiftly," she promised.

Once she departed, I informed another maid of my intention to peruse the library and ventured beyond the confines of my room.

"Ah, finding the right book to read each time is quite bothersome," I mused absentmindedly.

Lost in thought, I swung open the library door and gasped upon realizing the presence of another individual inside—the Duke, my father!

"Oh, f-father! G-good day!" I stammered, astonishment lacing my words.

Although I greeted him, I did not anticipate a response.

"It is not morning, but afternoon," he retorted, surprising me with his reply.

While he found fault with my statement, it would serve me no purpose to be wounded by his words.

"Yes, indeed. I erred in my greeting," I concurred calmly, hoping that would conclude our interaction.

I made my way toward the bookshelves.

"That... is a book on estate management theory," he commented.

My father fixed an intense gaze upon the book I held, his stern countenance betraying his thoughts.

Does he question why I am reading something of this nature?

I hurriedly returned the book to its place on the shelf.

"Yes, I was merely curious about the responsibilities my father undertakes as a lord," I explained.

His expression hardened at my explanation.

"Why were you curious about that?"

What if he believes I am becoming avaricious? I dreaded the thought, thus replied in a dispassionate tone, striving to avoid sounding materialistic or ambitious. "I harbored no ulterior motives; I was merely inquisitive," I asserted. Despite my efforts to avoid offending him, a slight frown creased his brow. I swallowed nervously, adding, "I apologize for troubling you. I shall take my leave now."

Thus, I attempted to discreetly end the conversation and exit the library.

"Jubelian." His voice, cold and authoritative, called my name, compelling me to turn back. My father regarded me with an inscrutable expression. "Please, be seated."

Does he have something to say to me?

My mind throbbed as I pondered his intentions.

"Allen did advise me to relax my mind and body," I mused, wary of falling ill once again.

Yet, I could not ignore my father's penetrating gaze, burdensome though it was.

"I suppose I cannot avoid it," I acquiesced, settling onto the couch opposite him. The plush cushion conformed to the contours of my body, offering respite, yet I remained on edge, unsure of what he wished to convey.

"Jubelian." I strained to listen attentively to his words, skeptical of his intent. "Do you know the three elements that constitute an estate?"

I had not anticipated a quiz, yet I responded promptly, without missing a beat. "The land serves as the foundation, the lord establishes and safeguards order, and the people are responsible for resource production."

"You have learned well," he acknowledged.

"Yes, having perused the entire book," I replied, assuming that marked the end of our exchange. I was on the verge of inquiring whether I could return to my quarters.

"However, do you also know this?"

Yet, my father's impromptu test persisted. He continued to pose questions, seemingly intent on ascertaining my thorough understanding of the book.

When will this cease? I wondered, stealing a glance at the time.

It had already struck three o'clock, two hours since I had left my room. At this hour, I would typically enjoy tea.

Oh, the chocolate cookies I requested Sella to bring..."

The thought crossed my mind when a knock resounded at the door.

"The guest has arrived, sir," Derrick, our butler, announced.

My father rose at the sound.

Is it finally over? I pondered, observing him with tenuous relief. Pray, please let me be.

Yet, my father defied my expectations, directing his attention toward the bookshelf instead of responding to Derrick. I stifled the urge to sigh.

"Sir," Derrick called once more.

My father remained silent.

Why is he searching for a book instead of acknowledging him?

Curiosity threatened to consume me when he approached me, clutching two books he had just procured.

"Read these."

He handed them to me and exited the library. I watched his retreating figure, my eyes wide with trepidation, then turned my attention to the books he had bestowed upon me. I could scarcely believe what I saw.

Why would you expect an ordinary lady to peruse books on military strategy and tactics, Father?