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Chapter 71
As soon as Betty returned to the Prowell Marquisate, she sensed that something was wrong.
The moment she stepped into the mansion, every servant’s face looked gloomy. The butler who came to greet her even had a grim expression frozen on his face.
“Has something happened?”
“There has been an incident with Her Majesty the Empress.”
“What?”
The answer, spoken with such a heavy look, was nothing short of shocking.
The Empress? What could possibly have happened to the Empress so suddenly?
“Is it something serious?”
“Fortunately, I was told it isn’t that grave. However…”
From this point on, it was clear the matter was something that should be spoken of only in whispers. The butler glanced around, and the servants loitering nearby tactfully dispersed.
“There was an attempt at poisoning.”
A flood of possible answers rose in her mind and disappeared just as quickly. Betty was left utterly speechless. Was what she just heard true?
“Poi… An attempt like that, and yet it’s not considered serious?”
“Her Majesty sensed something strange beforehand and refused the tea. She remarked that the aroma was off. His Majesty the Emperor was said to be furious, and the atmosphere in the palace is now extremely tense.”
There was no need for further explanation. Betty understood well enough. At least it was a relief that the Empress’s health had not been harmed.
Who could possibly…?
The timing was especially jarring—it was right after she had spoken with Vivian.
Could this have been Shartré’s doing? It didn’t seem likely. The critical matter Vivian had mentioned hadn’t even surfaced yet.
And to attempt poisoning now, of all times? It seemed far too blatant.
Shartré wasn’t desperate, nor was she cornered—she had suffered no real damage yet. It didn’t make sense for her to take such a reckless risk now.
Why now? Why at this precise moment?
Betty decided to focus on the timing. On the surface, nothing significant had happened in the capital.
That meant something must have quietly occurred involving the Empress or within the palace—something she didn’t know about.
“…Where are Grandmother and Uncle?”
From here, only they could give her the answers. She started walking to find them, and the butler replied.
“Both are at the palace. Her Majesty was deeply shaken, after all.”
“I see.”
“They said their return might be delayed. In the meantime, they’ve entrusted the affairs of the household to you, my lady. Should anything arise, you are free to make decisions as needed.”
At last, Betty understood why all eyes had been on her the moment she stepped into the mansion.
She had just been handed the temporary authority to oversee the household.
Even if nothing urgent happened and there were no orders to give, the responsibility felt heavy on her shoulders.
“My lady, Viscount Rondil has come to see you. He says he has matters to discuss with the Marquis regarding today’s incident.”
She had barely made her way inside when a maid hurried toward her.
So much for hoping there would be nothing to handle.
“Turn him away for now. Tell him the Marquis is out, and that we’ll send word tomorrow.”
She still wasn’t used to giving orders, let alone scolding subordinates. She had to picture Vivian in her mind.
How naturally Vivian commanded, as if it were as effortless as breathing. How confident she always looked.
“And if he refuses to leave?”
“Then I’ll go myself.”
Keeping her identity hidden any longer no longer seemed like a viable option.
After all, if something had happened to the Empress, the fact that there was a “new” daughter of House Prowell wasn’t going to draw much attention.
“Understood.”
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“If any other visitors come, handle it the same way. Tell them we are not receiving guests. If they insist on entering, call me.”
Normally, the Marquis himself would have given such instructions before leaving. That he hadn’t only showed how chaotic the situation was.
Betty sighed deeply, confirming the maid’s nod, and continued on her way.
“You’re much calmer and more natural than I expected, my lady.”
“…Did I look that way? That’s a relief. I’m actually trembling and terribly anxious right now.”
“You seemed calmer than anyone.”
Even if it was just flattery, she welcomed it. The truth was that anxiety was building inside her.
What if she really did have to face another noble without any proper introduction?
Not that she could avoid it, even if it came to that. All she could do was steady her heart as much as possible.
Luckily for Betty, the Marquis of Prowell and his wife returned late that evening.
Though their faces were heavy with worry, the fact that they returned at all meant the Empress had indeed not suffered grave harm.
“Is Her Majesty all right?”
Betty, who had been restlessly passing time in the sitting room, shot to her feet.
The Marquis gestured for her to sit back down and sank heavily into a chair opposite her. His face was etched with exhaustion and concern.
The Marchioness had already gone to rest, saying her fatigue had finally caught up with her.
The Marquis ran a hand through his hair, let out a deep sigh, and finally spoke.
“One of the maids put poison in the tea. The moment she realized she’d been caught, she drank it herself and died on the spot.”
“Then… we don’t know who was behind it?”
“She was from the Baron Riss family. But they’re vehemently denying it. They insist their daughter would never do such a thing—especially since she was engaged and soon to be married.”
Still, the evidence was damning. Perhaps something had changed within her after entering the palace.
“…The noble faction must have gotten desperate, thinking the Empress was with child.”
“What?”
“Apparently, Her Majesty hadn’t had an official examination yet but was being cautious. That must have aroused suspicion. In truth, she isn’t pregnant.”
Whether to call that a relief was hard to say. But surely the Empress would have been extra careful, precisely because there had been hope.
“…It’s fortunate that Her Majesty is safe.”
“Yes. Very fortunate.”
There wasn’t much more she could say or do. After a moment of hesitation, Betty added:
“There were some visitors today. I wrote down their names and left the list on the desk in the study. I told them all you’d respond tomorrow and sent them away.”
“Well done. Very well done. I’ll take care of it.”
The Marquis brushed his hair back again, then paused.
“I hadn’t meant to burden you with household duties so suddenly. I’m sorry. I heard you went to see your aunt’s family today. That’s what your mother said.”
“Huh? Ah… yes. I went and came back safely.”
So that was the excuse Cain had given for her outing.
Considering how reality and her hidden situation were becoming tangled, Betty felt it was still best to keep Vivian a secret. That was surely why Cain had come up with such an excuse.
If the time ever came when the truth had to be told, she believed the Duke—who knew everything—would be the one to bring it up.
For now, she could not. For Vivian’s safety, above all.
Life in the Marquisate of Prowell settled into an oddly monotonous rhythm for Betty in the days that followed.
Considering what she had heard, there was no way things were peaceful either inside or outside.
And yet, as if deliberately arranged, everything around her was quiet.
No one asked anything of her. To some, that might be comforting. For Betty, it was suffocating.
“Your knees must bend at just this angle.”
“Like this?”
“Yes. Too much looks ungainly. Too little, and it seems you’re only pretending at courtesy.”
The Marchioness had taken it upon herself to instruct Betty in the finer points of noble etiquette, almost as if it were her primary duty.
Every day brought new lessons. Betty had learned basic manners before, when she played companion, but this was on an entirely different level.
She was still concentrating on the subtle angle of her curtsey when the Marquis entered the room.
He merely exchanged a glance with Betty, then began a hushed but rapid conversation with his wife.
“I dropped by briefly, but she still seemed uneasy.”
“And the other maids…?”
“…They’re being dismissed. It’s impossible to feel secure otherwise.”
They weren’t speaking so softly that she couldn’t hear—if she paid attention, their words carried.
“…Even if she wishes to keep attendants, she can’t. That’s the problem.”
It was clear: the real issue was that there was no one trustworthy left to stay by the Empress’s side.
At that, Betty finally resolved the question that had been weighing on her for days.
“I’ll go.”
The moment she raised her voice, both the Marquis and Marchioness turned to her, confused by her words.
“Go? Where?”
“To the palace. Her Majesty needs someone by her side.”
