Chapter 92
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 92
The whiskey bottle smashed against the floor, exploding into pieces. A maid shrieked as glass shards flew in every direction, and Butler Norman rushed into the drawing room.
“What happened?!”
“It was an accident…” Vanessa stammered, her face pale. The crash had been far louder than she’d anticipated, and with glass scattered everywhere, her panicked expression came naturally. She swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat.
“I dropped it by mistake. I was just… trying to have a drink.”
As she hesitated, shifting her weight, the sharp edge of a glass shard brushed against the sole of her foot. Sensing the danger, Norman cried out.
“It is dangerous, please stay right where you are! I will call someone to clean this up immediately.”
Pretending to be startled by his shout, Vanessa took a step back. A chilling sensation pressed against her sole, but she forced her weight down anyway.
Crunch.
The glass shattered beneath her foot as a sharp pain pierced her flesh. A cold shiver ran down her spine, but the sensation lasted only a moment before it was replaced by an agonizing burn, as if her skin were being seared with a hot iron.
She gasped, groaning as she collapsed to the floor. Crimson blood began to seep into the puddle of whiskey.
“Ah…”
It was the equivalent of pouring high-proof alcohol directly onto an open wound. She had expected it, but the reality was far worse than she had imagined. Cold sweat beaded on her pale forehead.
“Good heavens.”
While she shuddered, trying to endure the pain, Norman calmly stepped over the broken shards. The old man’s composed eyes swept over the messy floor, the collapsed Vanessa, and the slipper that lay discarded near her feet.
The spilled whiskey had soaked the hem of her skirt, and the heavy scent of alcohol clinging to her made Vanessa look like a hopeless drunk. Believing he was dealing with an intoxicated woman’s clumsy mistake, the old butler held her firmly by the shoulders.
“I will summon the doctor at once. For now, let me carry you to your bed. Nod if you understand.”
“No…”
Vanessa shook her head, her face white with pain. Her entire body was trembling so violently that she didn't need to fake the tremor in her voice. Swallowing her groans, she managed to speak.
“Sending a carriage for the doctor… will take too long. It would be faster for me to go myself. Take me to a hospital… where they can operate immediately.”
“That is out of the question.”
The old butler shook his head firmly. Vanessa glared up at him, her eyes flashing.
“Why not?”
“That is…”
“If we delay this… and I end up with a permanent disability… or if this leaves a scar… will you take responsibility?”
Vanessa laced her voice with the same haughty edge she used when imitating Rosalyn. Who would have thought the memories of them playfully mimicking each other would come in handy now?
Just as the Duke's staff were strangers to her, she was a stranger to them. They didn't know what kind of person she was, how she thought or acted, or how she spoke. Her gamble—that they wouldn't find her behavior odd because they didn't know her—was paying off.
As she’d expected, Norman and the maid merely looked troubled by her difficult demand; they didn’t seem suspicious of her motives.
“We will ensure that does not happen.”
Vanessa pushed away the hands of the butler and the maid as they tried to help her up again.
“What if the doctor you call isn't skilled with these kinds of wounds? Besides, this mansion doesn't have the proper equipment for surgery.”
“…At least let us stop the bleeding first. Sitting on this cold floor for too long will put a strain on your body.”
Put a strain on my body…
Vanessa, who had reflexively wrapped her arms around her lower abdomen, gasped as a wave of suspicion washed over her. Was he just saying that out of general concern? Or did he know something?
“…”
Though she was too flustered to speak, the old butler’s face remained perfectly serene. Vanessa awkwardly lowered her hands from her stomach.
“…Make your choice.”
Her gray eyes, filled with renewed determination, stared stubbornly at Norman.
“Take me to a hospital where they can operate right now.”
“…”
“Otherwise, I won’t budge an inch from this spot until the Duke returns.”
* * *
“Are you leaving?”
At the low voice from the doorway, the frantic rustling stopped. The servant, who had been stuffing items into a bag, spun around with a startled look. Upon recognizing the speaker, the tension on his face—like that of a cornered rat—eased slightly.
“Mary. You scared me.”
Ignoring his casual remark, Mary strode into the messy kitchen. From the wide-open cupboards to the ransacked pantry, it was painfully obvious where the contents of his overstuffed leather bag had come from. Sensing her accusing gaze, the servant scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“We haven’t been paid in months. I have to take what I’m owed.”
It was ironic that this thief was actually one of the more conscientious servants left. Aside from herself and Mr. Ross, he was the very last person remaining at Gloucester Castle.
After Lady Vanessa left, Wyatt had crumbled. It was as if the divine protection that had once graced the family had vanished overnight, or as if some higher power had whimsically stripped away their thin shield of fortune. It had been quite a spectacle to watch from the sidelines.
Large bills and demand letters poured in one after another, and debt collectors showed up almost daily to cause a scene. Since Wyatt had become embroiled in some legal battle, even thugs had begun treating Gloucester Castle like their own home, rummaging through every corner.
Unable to bear it any longer, the maids and servants had started fleeing at the beginning of the week. Mary spoke bitterly.
“I didn’t think you’d leave without a word to me.”
“…It just happened this way.”
“Paul, Anthony, Joey, and Emily… and now you. Once you’re gone, it’ll just be Mr. Ross and me.”
“For old times’ sake, Mary, let me give you some advice. Run while you still can.”
Well, if running away could solve anything, I would have been the first to go, she thought. Misinterpreting her silence, the servant raised his voice.
“Forget the Count. Find yourself a decent man. You’ve got a pretty face. If you say you’re looking for a fresh start, men will be lining up. I’d be first in line myself.”
Mary stared blankly at him as he spoke with such passion.
“That would just be another leash.”
“Mary.”
“I think I’ll take this opportunity to become the Countess.”
The man’s eyes widened, and then he let out a dry laugh.
“In this dilapidated estate?”
“I don’t care if there isn’t a single penny. That’s what a noble title is for, isn’t it?”
“…I didn’t know you were so foolish. I always thought you were a sharp, calculating girl.”
Yes, perhaps she had been. Until ‘that letter’ arrived. Mary’s right hand touched the envelope tucked in her pocket. Closing the distance between them, the servant grabbed her shoulders.
“Don’t be like this. Come with me.”
Mary looked down and let out a weary sigh. By now, even the touch of a man made her skin crawl.
Whenever that happened, she desperately conjured an image in her mind: golden hair cascading down to a slender waist, a gentle voice, a face sleeping peacefully with all its defenses down, and a warm, affectionate gaze…
Only then did she feel like she could breathe again. Mary snapped her eyes open and shook off the servant’s hands.
“Get out of here before I report you to the police as a thief. I won’t stop you from taking what you’ve packed, so just go.”
She turned and walked out of the kitchen. It would soon be time for Wyatt to wake up. She had to be back in her room before then.
Inside her pocket were two letters. One was an obituary from a hospital she didn’t recognize, and the other was from the Rosspuren Psychiatric Ward.
Mary. Folks say because of your brother’s sickness, you’ll never marry a good man, no matter how hard you try. You shouldn’t be tied down by us. Live well as a Countess. If you do that, your grandma will have nothing more to ask for.
The shock of hearing the words “double suicide” had already faded. Though it had happened only a week ago, not a single tear fell from her bone-dry eyes.
Life had always been a filthy cesspool. She had spent her entire existence cleaning up after others. Ever since running away with her father’s savings, she had worked day and night to pay her grandmother’s and brother’s hospital bills. She had never dared to imagine that happiness might be waiting at the end of it all.
To become a Countess.
As if something so trivial could ever compensate for all her suffering. As if they had held her back just for that. Mary let out a choked laugh.
If that stupid title is what you wanted…
She felt as though she were sinking endlessly into a horrific, muddy swamp. Exhaling a weary breath, Mary quietly opened the door to the bedroom where Wyatt lay sleeping.
* * *
“I do not believe surgery will be necessary.”
The young doctor announced in a cold voice after thoroughly examining the wound on Vanessa’s foot.