Chapter 14
Beatrice returned to the residence just as the evening glow was beginning to fade.
The maids who attended to the Margravine’s bath and change of clothes noticed that she was uncharacteristically quiet and wore a serious expression, but as servants, they neither inquired nor speculated on the reason.
Beatrice claimed she had a headache and said she would skip dinner and go straight to bed. The maids felt a slight sense of unease. But that, too, quickly faded from their minds.
It was unusual for the Margravine, who was normally so cheerful and full of life, but not entirely unheard of when compared to typical noblewomen.
“His Excellency said he would be arriving late tonight, correct?”
“Yes, Madam. He sent word to the residence this afternoon.”
“I see… I don’t think I’ll be able to greet him today. Please tell him I went to bed early.”
“Yes, Madam. I will let him kn—pardon?”
But the fact that Beatrice would not go out to greet the returning Margrave was a highly unusual… No, a profoundly significant deviation.
Whenever the lord of the estate returned after time away, no matter what other plans she had, Beatrice would always go out to greet him.
Even if it was the middle of the night and she was deep in sleep, she would ask the maids to wake her the moment her husband arrived.
Only then did the maids begin to realize something was deeply amiss. Yet there was still nothing they could actively do.
After leaving Beatrice’s room, the maids huddled together, wondering whether the madam might truly be ill—should they summon a physician urgently? But aside from looking somewhat fatigued, the Margravine showed no signs of fever or other symptoms.
“C-Come to think of it, the place where Madam asked us to prepare the bed tonight…”
The Margrave and Margravine had not spent a single night in separate bedrooms since arriving at the territory. Though a formal lady’s chamber had been furnished at Valentin Castle, it had never once been used.
Likewise, a private room had been prepared for the lady in the capital’s residence, but no one had expected it would ever be occupied.
That was the source of the earlier sense of unease everyone had felt. Tonight, the Margravine had chosen to sleep not in the Margrave’s bedroom, but in the adjacent room prepared for her.
What on earth was going on? Had there been a quarrel between the previously affectionate newlyweds?
The close attendants who had followed Beatrice from the territory to the capital were filled with concern, but soon someone offered a calming explanation.
“We’re overthinking it. It’s only their second night in the capital. It’s a new residence—she probably needs some time to adjust. Maybe the long trip just wore her out. She probably just thought it would be better to rest separately tonight.”
The maids finally managed to accept this reasoning. Yet at the same time, all of them felt it in their hearts—something was seriously, unsettlingly wrong between the Margrave and Margravine.
***
While the maids were in a flurry of confusion, Beatrice lay in bed under her blankets, her heart pounding with nerves.
Her heart raced from the lie she was telling for the first time in her life. The guilt of deceiving not just the maids, but Caesar as well, tormented her.
The reason Beatrice suddenly began feigning illness upon returning home was, of course, because of Regina’s advice.
“Let’s start with this. How many times a month do you and your husband sleep together?”
Earlier that afternoon, in the sitting room, the abrupt and bold question had nearly caused Beatrice to spit out the tea in her mouth.
Despite the age difference, Regina was the closest in age to her out of all her sisters. If someone asked who she was most at ease with, Beatrice would have named her without hesitation. Regina was prickly, yes, but also deeply familiar.
But such a blunt question—this was the first time. Even now, remembering the conversation made Beatrice squirm under the covers in embarrassment.
“W-Why are you asking that, Sister? Why would that matter…”
“If I know that, I can get a rough diagnosis. You’re a married woman now, after all—this kind of conversation should be fine, don’t you think? Just take it as your older sister treating you like an adult. When did our little Betty grow up so much?”
Though she was still clearly teasing, Regina seemed genuinely serious. Never having had a conversation of this nature with anyone before, Beatrice hesitated, her lips moving wordlessly several times before finally, with a face flushed deep red, she managed to answer.
“Excluding the days I’m on my period or when my husband is away… if you count by the month… about twenty times…?”
“…WHAT?!”
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