A Rival's Gift, a Husband's Test
The thought flitted through my mind that this manner of speaking was truly tiresome. Even if I had divined the day's events through magic, I doubt I would have felt any differently.
"The days have been blessed with Błęndia's care, of course. My lord, I merely wished to deepen our friendship with you—so I beg you, accept my humblest apologies."
Tatra continued, as though flaunting her exceptionally soft, clear voice.
"I behaved so clumsily at the banquet held in your honor, my lord. I have been reflecting on it ever since. I truly am sorry."
I longed to sigh, but with Princess Warsza in attendance—not to mention the daughters of various noble houses and their maids—I swallowed it down, out of long practice.
Truthfully, I doubted whether Tatra could even be called genuinely young.
According to Poznan, the notion of adulthood here was different from the place where I had grown up.
The coming-of-age ceremony in this country was held at twenty. Which meant that Tatra was not far from me in age at all. And yet she wielded her aggressive cuteness like a weapon.
Ha. What leisure, to be able to indulge in that. I'd never had such luxury.
Strictly speaking, Tatra was younger than me. Honestly, though, she didn't give the impression of a seasoned woman who had weathered every trial life could offer.
It was quite believable that Henrik, meeting me for the first time and finding me close to his own age, might have judged me to be not yet of age.
Tatra was like a lush, abundant bouquet of flowers. Unlike me.
If she had danced with Henrik the moment she debuted in society, it would have been the very instant she earned her coming-of-age mark—so perhaps her boldness felt all the more justified to her.
My earlier resolution, made before coming here—that I would waste no emotion on her—was proving colorless indeed.
That didn't mean I intended to simply let it all pass with grace.
"Tatra, I know you are young. Even so, I wouldn't say the difference in our ages is particularly great."
I warned her obliquely—told her that if she knew her own inexperience, she ought to be careful. And that she shouldn't wield her youth as a weapon, either.
Tatra, making no unnecessary fuss, covered her mouth with her fan.
"If I have caused you discomfort yet again, I can only apologize. My lord."
She was shifting the blame onto me with remarkable cunning—knowing full well that the sourness in my mood was entirely her own doing.
As I was pondering how I might smooth over this woman who insisted on playing the rival I had never asked for, Warsza rose with elegant poise.
"We should talk of something else, Lady Biauby. We went to the trouble of inviting my lord brother here—the day is too short to spend on pleasant conversation alone."
"You speak wisely, Your Highness."
Without hesitation, Tatra had a servant bring forth a beautifully wrapped gift and extended it.
"Will you accept this present, Your Highness? Thanks to your invitation to this lovely garden, I have had a precious experience, so I too have prepared a modest token."
"From you, anything at all. Lady Biauby."
Warsa unwrapped it right there. Inside something like a jewel case lay silk ribbons meant for a cat.
It wasn't merely one or two—there was a ribbon of the finest diamonds, and others studded with gems that threw off brilliant flashes of every color. It felt rather like a luxurious lady's gown.
"Oh my, how utterly adorable!"
The crowd that immediately swarmed around Princess Warsza began to sigh in admiration.
"That pearly luster is just like Marie's eyes."
The young daughter of the house of Iasha, glued to Tatra's side, lent her praise with practiced ease.
"As expected, the young lady of House Biauby has exquisite taste."
Amid the noble maidens laughing hah-hah and ho-ho at one another, Warsza smiled as if well satisfied.
"You have such a kind heart. Did your father gather these for you?"
Tatra answered with her hands folded respectfully.
"Yes, Father insisted I bring them. These pearls were harvested on the distant shores of the far south…"
Watching the guests merrily take part in the conversation Tatra steered with such confidence, I gave whatever responses were appropriate.
"What a perfect color for Marie, Your Highness."
I thought, Lord Biauby truly dotes on his daughter, doesn't he.
Even at a private gathering like this, he made a show of paternal affection.
Could it be that here, a daughter could inherit?
Then was Warsza also Henrik's rival? As far as the information I possessed went, the succession struggle unfolding in this country was surely a matter between the two princes.
Leszyca was only a half-brother—there must have been some political event I had yet to learn of.
But Warsza—didn't she share a mother with him? And she was close enough to Henrik to react warmly toward me.
Still, families could fight among themselves. I knew that truth better than anyone.
Perhaps this family, too, found itself in a difficult position.
That evening. Having returned from the tea party without incident, I found Henrik once again at work in the bedchamber.
Thanks to having stuffed myself with the refreshments Warsza had pressed on me, I had skipped dinner. I had no way of knowing whether he had eaten, so out of courtesy I spoke to him.
"My lord, I didn't get a chance to greet you at dinner today."
A sudden curiosity struck me. Did he have no separate study, I wondered. To be working here even at night.
"So it might seem. Was the tea party pleasant?"
I cut off the trivial personal question at once and drew out one of my true concerns.
"My lord. Since I dare not speak falsehood to you, I will tell you plainly."
Taking my seat before him naturally, I kept my tone even.
"Lady Biauby's watchfulness is beyond bewildering. I gave her a warning in my own way at the last banquet, yet she carries on just the same."
Setting down his documents, Henrik's face remained supremely composed.
"Do you mean to call it my fault?"
His eyes and voice carried no particular cruelty, so I offered the answer that seemed fitting.
"My lord, I do not think so."
If anything, this felt like an opportunity. An opportunity to make a request of him without paying too steep a price for it.
"There is only one thing I would like to ask, my lord."
"Anything."
Henrik crossed his legs at his leisure and regarded me.
"If what Lady Biauby says is true, it seems plausible that there might be rumors of a romance between you. And yet it appears you had no thought of marriage until you came to Francia. I would ask the reason."
No matter how much more this country's climate encouraged active courtship of society women than the Kingdom of Francia did, romance rumors would still be ruinous for a woman.
I wanted to know what manner of thinking he brought to his dealings with the daughters of society. If another rival appeared besides the Biauby daughter, it would be an enormous nuisance.
He possessed a face that drew every eye effortlessly, and he enjoyed immense honor and power. Could there be only one or two women who had harbored feelings for such a man?
"There was nothing of the kind."
Henrik's amethyst eyes glinted, brighter than usual. In his gaze, beyond the languid, detached air, I sensed a different color entirely.
"The head of House Biauby is certainly pushing his daughter forward, but he hasn't led any such campaign in society. One shared dance in public doesn't breed rumors of romance. If it had, the aristocracy would have whispered about it long ago."
I listened closely to Henrik while straining to read what emotion lay hidden within those jewel-like eyes.
"That is how I could keep my distance from women in society. Once you were at my side, it became easier still."
I entertained a hypothetical. Suppose he had grown closer to that woman. Suppose it had been his true desire—
"But you may blame me freely, if you wish."
Before my thought could run any further, Henrik leaned a little closer toward me, a sly look on his face.
"Even with a rival appearing, you seem remarkably unbothered. With your husband sitting right in front of you."
Only then did I catch the hidden meaning in his gaze. He was testing me again, it seemed. Still calculating, coolly and rationally, whether I was of use to him.
Good heavens—had I not already spent that strange night with him? I had never once dreamed such a thing. Wanting to avoid any needless misunderstanding, I took a firm stance.
"My lord, I do not presume to delude myself. I understand very well that this relationship is a sham."
He stilled, his eyes never leaving me. Whenever he looked at me that way, I felt as though I had become some fixed still life.
For I could not escape that beguiling amethyst gaze, nor the firm set of his brows, nor the smooth, unhurried line of his mouth.
"What I said before to Lady Biauby was likewise without a trace of ornament."
What good would it do, even if I did call him a man of sense, a husband who understood the virtues of marriage? It profited him nothing.
Could that young, blood-hot man ever be satisfied with a wooden wife like me?
"It is your privilege and freedom, my lord, to bring another woman in."
Besides, that he needed an heir was self-evident. Not an urgent matter to settle now, of course—but once Henrik achieved his ambition, someday, inevitably.
I wouldn't care even if I were suddenly cast off in divorce at that point. I wanted but one thing: to make good use of that man in the course of achieving my purpose.
I, too, did not take my eyes off him as he sat there like a rock.
Henrik held his silence for quite a long while before finally speaking.
"…I see. I do know that you do not deal in falsehood."
His expression differed not at all from usual, so I affirmed it and brought the conversation smoothly to a close. Since nothing had gone awry this time either, this much was enough.