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Chapter 70
She had to start from the explanation that it was Shartré who had been behind the incident at the Saltwell Count’s spring ball, where the Marquis of Prowell was gravely injured.
Now, it felt like something that had happened an eternity ago.
From there, the story naturally led to the conclusion: that she herself had, in fact, been a member of the Prowell family all along.
“That’s wonderful!”
Hearing the whole story, Vivian leapt for joy as though it were her own matter.
“Really, really wonderful. I’m so glad. That you’ve become part of Prowell. You liked it there too, didn’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“Then now you’re Lady Beatrice? Should I call you that? No, no—that feels too stiff, doesn’t it?”
“You can call me whatever you like, Lady.”
Betty was calm, but Vivian’s eyes were brimming with tears again. Thankfully, this time it didn’t look like sorrow.
“…Vivian.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t say ‘yes’ like that. And don’t call me ‘Lady’ either. Just—Vivian. You’re not serving me anymore. There’s no need for it.”
Vivian’s eyes, still clasping Betty’s hands tightly, looked so earnest it was almost desperate.
“Vivian.”
For the first time, she spoke the name with trembling breath. Vivian beamed. That smile quickly took on a faint hint of sadness.
“I wish we were real family. That you were my older sister, or even my twin. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Betty couldn’t deny she felt the same way.
Yes, Vivian sometimes got into trouble, behaving like a mischievous tomboy, but—if she’d had a sister like her, they probably would have gotten along well.
“…It’s a shame.”
Just a few words, but heavy with meaning.
Betty recalled a thought she’d had before:
If Vivian had been born into the Prowell family, she might have grown up as the beloved youngest daughter.
“For you, Lady, I…”
“Vivian.”
Betty quickly interrupted and smiled at her friend who had corrected herself.
“Vivian. You have me.”
She meant it sincerely.
They were bound by mutual care and reliance, hoping for each other’s well-being no matter what.
Isn’t that what family and friendship were? There was no need for more definition.
“So I can’t just sit back quietly anymore.”
Relying on the Duke, depending on Prowell, entrusting things to Vivian—
They all said that was fine, but she instinctively knew this was no longer the time.
There was a role she herself had to play. She couldn’t just wear the Prowell name, accept fine gifts, and live in comfort.
She had to step forward. This was the time.
The safe walls the Marquisate of Prowell provided could only exist if the house itself remained strong.
“I’m ‘Beatrice Prowell’ now, too.”
“You really do sound like a noble lady already.”
“…Do you think it suits me?”
“Yes. If it’s you, you’ll guard that place better than anyone.”
That was what Betty wanted. She wanted to make sure Prowell did not collapse or suffer harm at the hands of people like Shartré.
“Then I’ll tell you the details too. If you don’t know, you’ll be caught off guard.”
Vivian’s expression grew instantly serious. Glancing at the door, as if to check no one was listening in, she quickly continued.
“Soon Shartré is going to be in huge trouble. His Majesty the Emperor is going to call the Duke of Shartré to account. He didn’t run the Imperial recruitment fairly—he favored the noble faction families who follow him. Outwardly, it doesn’t show, but if you compare the abilities of who was rejected and who was accepted, it makes no sense.”
Vivian paused, frowning.
“He gave positions to unqualified people just because they were from high noble families, putting them into good administrative posts. And in turn pushed aside competent academy graduates.”
“That… contradicts His Majesty’s policy, doesn’t it? Surely he wants talent distributed evenly.”
Betty had heard enough in her time with the Marquis family to know at least that much. The Duke had explained it to her once, too.
“Exactly. His Majesty gave clear orders not to do that. So now there’s an easy excuse to seize on.”
“And a good chance to clean out the noble faction in the palace.”
Betty could immediately sense how huge the repercussions of this would be.
If things unfolded this way, Shartré wouldn’t be able to go on with his underhanded schemes.
She couldn’t help voicing her concern:
“But then, Shartré won’t just sit by quietly either.”
“That’s why you have to be careful. Only Prowell can keep Shartré in check. Prowell has to endure.”
And Prowell was closely tied to the Grand Duke Deivan’s house.
Betty suddenly remembered Felix Shartré’s ominous words, when he had spoken so threateningly about them all.
Was it just idle bluster, or did he actually have a plan?
“Something… something bigger feels like it’s coming. Be careful when you’re looking into it, Vivian. Don’t get caught.”
“No one suspects a silly, thoughtless young lady like me. You’re the only one who takes me seriously.”
Vivian pressed her forehead against Betty’s with mock playfulness.
“You’re a good person, Vivian.”
Betty finally said what she’d long kept in her heart. Vivian had said it to her many times, but she had never once said it back.
She wanted Vivian to know, now.
To Betty, Vivian was a good friend.
“Trying to make me cry again?”
“I’m saying it so you’ll stay well. I will, too.”
They didn’t have much time left together.
The moment was coming when each of them would have to take their place and do their part.
Vivian, to bring down Shartré. Betty, to protect Prowell—including herself.
“Okay. Stay well, alright? And if we happen to meet at a ball, it’ll be awkward to acknowledge each other. So don’t be upset if I act cold.”
“I understand. Of course I won’t.”
They rose together, though Vivian still looked reluctant to leave.
“I don’t want to go.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Vivian sighed.
“See? I say I don’t want to go, and there they are. It’s a tailor who works here but actually serves as the Duke’s informant. It’s natural for me to be calling for them back at the residence.”
This really was goodbye, without promise of reunion.
Once was possible, but twice would be hard.
It was only possible now because Betty’s identity hadn’t yet been revealed to the world.
“Goodbye.”
Vivian seemed to swallow her words, as if she would cry if she said more.
“We’ll see each other again.”
That was the last.
Just in case, Betty slipped out of sight when the door opened. Vivian checked, then stepped out.
Silence fell.
“Haaah…”
A deep sigh escaped. Relief mixed with unease and worry all at once.
Her thoughts tangled. What should she do?
How should she act, to guard against Shartré and protect Prowell fully?
Click.
As she was lost in thought, the door opened again. Betty flinched, nerves taut.
“Lord Ian.”
But her tension melted at once. Betty smiled faintly.
“Thank you for today. I didn’t expect you to grant my request so quickly.”
“…Have you said everything that needed to be said?”
“Yes. Hearing what the Lady was thinking made me realize I need to do what I can in my own place.”
Ian concealed his heavy heart. His private worry about Betty meeting Vivian had just surfaced.
“You don’t need to take action. I can handle it well enough.”
“Still, I’m part of ‘Prowell’ now too.”
“No one will ever force any duty onto you.”
Ah—why did he always misunderstand in these moments?
“I don’t feel forced. I really just think I need to find something I can do.”
Ian’s selfish wish was that she wouldn’t.
He knew he was asking too much. He knew Betty’s nature—she couldn’t just ignore what was wrong.
Especially when it concerned people close to her—she could never stand by.
“…I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid anything truly dangerous.”
Her gentle smile was transparent, without a single blemish.
But her clear conviction might one day still lead her straight into danger.
He only wished she would remain where his eyes could always reach, safe.
“Be careful.”
“Yes. You too, Lord Ian.”
And yet—he didn’t want to stop her from doing what she wished. After all, it was her life.
All he could do was watch over her and protect her however he could.
Ian soothed his unease by resolving himself to that.
