The Countess (2)
A countess and a maid. Two people separated by birth and station—how long could a conversation between them possibly last? Truth be told, there was hardly a single proper topic for the two of us to share.
Contrary to that expectation of mine, my talk with Countess Rein carried on far longer than I had imagined.
The reason was a common denominator by the name of Rihardt.
Countess Rein told me what Rihardt liked and what he couldn't stand. Trivial as it was, the information proved useful in its own way, so there I was, listening with both ears. Some of it had never appeared in the novel, and there was no harm in knowing. Perhaps she took my rapt attention as genuine enjoyment, because she went on about Rihardt with evident delight while I offered the occasional reply. Time slipped past quickly that way.
All that talking had left my throat dry, perhaps. The Countess reached for her teacup, then stopped short. The cup, it seemed, was already empty.
"…I've been doing all the talking, haven't I?"
I shook my head and waved my hand at the same time.
"Not at all. For someone who has to serve the young master, every word was worth plenty."
What she had shared might one day become the very rope that saved my life. Given that, how could I possibly sit there looking bored? It was rather sad that this was no exaggeration.
Had the Countess taken my answer for mere courtesy, then? A faint flush crept over her face. Against that pale skin, the red showed all the more.
"I'm glad to hear you say so, even if it's only flattery. You are the one my son has taken to heart, after all, so I suppose I've fawned a little—hardly my usual self. Still, I truly enjoyed this. I can't remember the last time I got to talk about him so openly."
Did she and the Count never speak of such things at all? It seemed a question too sensitive to ask outright, so I held my tongue.
"I meant every word, my lady, so please don't look so burdened by it."
"For all that you seem standoffish, Miss Lucifer, you're a very thoughtful person."
"…I come across as standoffish?"
"I suppose it's because your expression hardly ever changes. Like a doll, shall we say? You've been blessed with such a pretty face—why not try smiling?"
Who says I can't smile? I smile when there's something worth smiling about. With your son circling my throat by the hour, I haven't an ounce of peace of mind to spare.
"I think Rihardt would like that, too."
I fought for my life to keep the worst of it from slipping out. Hiding the tremble at the corner of my mouth, I answered,
"I will correct that at the earliest opportunity, my lady."
"Ah—may I ask one last question?"
Figuring she couldn't be about to say anything terrible, I readily agreed.
"Ask me anything."
"Is that rumor true?"
Rumor? So many rumors swirled about me that I couldn't begin to guess which one she meant.
"Might I ask which rumor you mean, specifically?"
Having asked my question, I felt my thirst and took a long swallow of the lemon tea she'd poured for me.
"The one about you and my son sharing a be—"
"Hk—!"
I'd choked. The one mercy was that I hadn't sprayed lemon tea all over the Countess. I coughed again and again and drew a careful breath.
So this woman wasn't quite ordinary, either.
"No. Certainly not."
We had done plenty that stopped just short of the act itself, but we had never truly crossed that line. The day I lay with Rihardt? Wouldn't that be the very day I sank into being nothing more than his plaything?
"I see. Then what about the rumor that Rihardt has feelings for you, Miss Lucifer?"
Excuse me, Countess. Wasn't "one last question" supposed to have ended with that last one? Why do the questions keep multiplying?
I didn't have the nerve to call her out on it. Such is a filthy, status-obsessed society.
"Who on earth spread that slander? I'll root out whoever it was and make them pay for—"
The Countess drew a V with her index and middle fingers. With both hands, no less.
Ah, so the Middle Ages had the V sign, too. No—wait. I mustn't go treating this as historical accuracy. This is a fictional, pseudo-medieval world.
Having thoroughly scrambled my brain, the Countess then brought out something even more staggering.
"Rihardt said so himself."
Aha. So it had come straight from the man in question. …Then that isn't really a rumor at all, is it?
My eyes narrowed into slits. Don't tell me this entire conversation was one long leading question. If it was, this woman was a far tougher customer than I'd given her credit for.
No—more than that. Wasn't the truly shocking part something else entirely?
"Countess Rein."
"Yes, Miss Lucifer?"
"Did I hear you correctly? You're telling me the young master said he has feelings for me?"
At my question, the Countess pressed a small, pale hand to her mouth and put on a look of surprise.
"Oh my—so you didn't know. The doctor said he'd already told you, so I simply assumed you were aware."
Feelings? Love? For me? From Rihardt?
My eyes weren't merely spinning anymore; they whirled hard enough to kick up a vortex. Countless hooks went on blooming in my mind without end—no, dozens, hundreds, thousands of them blossomed past all restraint into full flower. It felt as though I had collapsed into a garden grown entirely of hooks.
"Hic."
When our conversation ended, the Countess rose for lunch—leaving behind one final request: that I tell Rihardt nothing of what she'd said, if I could help it.
It has to be a lie. A lie he told to excuse whatever this relationship of ours is supposed to be. Nothing else could explain why she'd said it.
Flustered for no reason, I had made a slip in front of the Countess that I would never normally make—a reaction I suspected Rihardt would call me out for later. Thinking that only tangled my thoughts further.
Click.
Back at my room, I gripped the handle of the closed door and turned it. The plan was to bury myself in bed and let my worn-out body and mind sink into a long stretch of perfect stillness. Rihardt would be taking lunch with the Count and Countess anyway, so he had no need of—
"Oh, there you are."
There sat Rihardt in a chair, chewing on a sandwich.
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Then I opened them again, stepped back two paces, and double-checked the door I had just opened. Before me was the same unremarkable door as ever, without a single distinguishing mark.
This is my room, isn't it? Then why was this man here in the middle of what should have been a meal with his parents?
As I tilted my head at a sharp meerkat angle, Rihardt crammed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.
"Took you a while. What did you two find to talk about for so long?"
Just when the pattern was starting to feel familiar, he had to throw in a variation. No villainy quite matched this villainy.
From that moment on, I decided to regard Rihardt as a random encounter. Wander the mansion, and with high probability you will run into Rihardt. Something like that.
I didn't bother to suppress the sigh that came bursting out. I let it fly at full power, then asked,
"What are you doing here? This isn't even your room, young master."
"I figured if it was you, you'd head straight back to your own room once you were done talking with Mother. So I waited here. Oh—want one, Lucy? This thing's secretly pretty good."
He held a sandwich out to me—white bread piled with every sort of vegetable, sliced cheese and meat layered throughout. A thoroughly appetizing thing. My appetite was already stirring, so I snatched it from his hand as I answered.
"And what about your meal with your family?"
"With the posting to the capital coming up, everyone's busy preparing this and that, so they showed a little flexibility about it."
"The Countess, you mean?"
"No, Father. So—what did you and Mother talk about so happily?"
"What story would a mere maid like me have to share with her ladyship? We only…"
"Only?"
For all the lightness in his tone and manner, there was not a trace of a smile in his eyes.
Countess, how is anyone supposed to smile at a time like this? It's all thanks to your darling son, who wrings out every emotion I have until I'm running on empty.
"We merely talked a little about the young master."
Had that answer caught him off guard? A flicker of bewilderment settled into his previously sharp eyes.
"Hm? Me?"
"A man who doesn't so much as keep a personal attendant suddenly takes a maid into his confidence, and on top of that, all manner of vicious rumors come drifting in—how could his mother not worry? That is all we spoke of."
"Mother does tend to fret."
"And what, exactly, did you tell her ladyship, young master? That you're in love with me? That we've shared a bed? Why would you say something so far removed from reality?"
Somewhere along the way, my questions had turned into an interrogation. Had my manner and tone really been that hostile? A roguish smile crossed his face.
"Oho. Angry Lucy is a rare sight."
"Young master."
Rihardt's red eyes fixed on me.
"You know you just crossed the line a little, right?"
"…I apologize."
"I wasn't asking for an apology. Just keep it in mind. Not that the fault isn't mostly mine—I didn't warn you in advance, so of course you were thrown. But if I hadn't done even that much, a Lucy who does nothing but shave away at my reputation would have been cleared out in short order."
"Cleared out—you mean by the Countess?"
She hardly seemed the type.
"No. By my father."
Ah. Count Rein just might be.
"And I didn't exactly lie, for the record. Sharing a bed is a lie with no room for excuse, but on the matter of feelings, I have my own defense. All I told Mother, plain and simple, was that you are someone special to me."
"Weren't those words chosen precisely to invite misunderstanding?"
"It might not stay a misunderstanding, you know. A 'special' feeling can turn into love, given time."
…
"Could you stop making that utterly disillusioned face? It makes me want to torment you."
I chewed slowly on the sandwich he'd handed over. Damn it all—the thing was genuinely delicious.
"So she really didn't say much. And here I was thinking Mother meant to pry you away from me."
"Whatever the Countess tells you, you're hardly the sort to listen to a word of it anyway, are you?"
"Believe it or not, I do make a habit of honoring Mother's wishes where I can. If she had begged me in earnest, it would have hurt, but I might have given you up."
Oh.
"I was certain I was about to lose you for good. So she didn't bring any of that up, then?"
Ohh.
"Thank goodness. Truly."
Ohhh?
I… could have escaped? For real?