ORBT 05

Episode 5

“So, I’m not going to the luncheon?”

By the time they reached the entrance of the estate, Rose stopped walking and asked.

Feeling like nothing more than a goddamn dog hadn’t been particularly pleasant, but Ray showed no sign of it. He lowered the arm with which he had been escorting her and gave her a faint smile.

“Because you’re ill, Madam.”

“I am?”

Ray merely gave a slight nod without any further response, then turned around.

Without hesitation, he began walking toward where the carriage was waiting.

Well, it wasn’t a lie.

By his standards, by the standards of the world he belonged to, not properly knowing one’s own position—or one’s place—was considered quite a serious illness.

“I think I’ve moved back a century.”

“Why don’t you check the newspaper?”

As that impossibly gentle voice and manner of speaking came back to him, Ray let out a hollow laugh.

Ray Crawford knew it on the very first day he met Rose Davis, the day of that funeral, when he saw her staggering to her feet beside a tree.

He knew he was going to hate this woman.

Even when he learned about her father, her background, and all those unwelcome circumstances, it had only been bothersome. He hadn’t hated the woman herself.

But when he actually met her, Ray knew.

He would never be able to like this woman.

That tiny body that looked as though it would fall over if someone merely nudged her. That pale face, composed entirely of light, washed-out colors, giving her such a fragile impression.

And those green eyes, utterly devoid of strength, as though it wouldn’t be surprising to find them filled with tears at any moment.

She was a woman who gave the overall impression of being weak to the core.

Everything about her was something he disliked.

Every single part of her provoked him.

In an extremely unpleasant way.

Ray’s prediction had been correct.

What he had been wrong about was the extent of that feeling.

Ray Crawford genuinely hated the woman who had become his wife.

Even more than he had vaguely anticipated.

What an asshole.

As Rose chewed her food, she tried to imagine that what she was currently chewing was her handsome-faced husband.

Even after labeling a perfectly healthy person as an invalid, his expression remained shamelessly brazen.

When she had asked whether she was sick, Ray Crawford had merely tilted his head to the side.

It had felt as though he were saying, What? Isn’t there something wrong with your head?

If only she could have a cigarette.

She had been forced to quit smoking because of conservative Orturan customs that acted as though a woman would fall straight into hell for smoking.

Her younger brother Ben was still attending boarding school in Ortura, too, so she wanted to avoid giving the newspapers anything noisy to gossip about.

If she could just have one cigarette after dealing with that obnoxious husband and the people of this country, she would be able to get through all of this much more easily.

“Rose is definitely going to like Sophia!”

Beth’s voice came from beside her. Beth was her husband’s younger sister and, so far, the only person in this family Rose could imagine actually liking.

Beth had already said that more than ten times.

“Who could possibly dislike that girl? There’s no one like that in the world.”

Rose, who had been forcing herself to eat the tasteless egg dish, looked up in surprise at Agatha’s words.

There was an unusually gentle light in the face of her mother-in-law, Agatha Crawford.

Beth had been this excited ever since they heard that the Earl and Countess of Greenwood were scheduled to visit Crawford Manor today.

Ever since Rose had married into the family, the Crawfords had stopped inviting people to the estate.

Which meant the Greenwoods must have been exceptionally close to them.

Close enough, Rose presumed, that they didn’t mind showing them the blemish that was Rose.

“Sophia plays the piano too. She’s very good.”

Beth, who was only fifteen, had brought up the piano whenever she was bored ever since learning that Rose used to play.

Perhaps because Beth herself wasn’t particularly talented, she seemed to have a great admiration for people who were good at it.

For an entire month, Rose had diligently pretended not to notice the youthful face that so clearly wanted to see her play the piano.

“Sophia does too, you say? What does that mean?”

Agatha asked as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“Rose, you know how to play the piano too?”

“……I wouldn’t say I’m particularly good.”

“Particularly.”

For some reason, Agatha repeated the word Rose had just used.

“Yes?”

“Not partic-u-larly like that. You pronounce it as though it were partic-u-lar-ly. Pay attention.”

Agatha often corrected Rose’s pronunciation or word choice in the middle of conversations like this.

She was especially sensitive to vowel length and simply couldn’t let something go without correcting it.

“Mother. Orturan isn’t Rose’s native language.”

“Who doesn’t know that? I wasn’t scolding her, Rose. I’m teaching you.”

“Yes, I know.”

Rose also knew very well that Agatha had no particular ill intent.

She was simply diligently carrying out her duty.

To correct, as much as possible, a daughter-in-law who didn’t measure up to the standards of this family.

“Anyway, there’s no need to be good at it. Knowing how to play is enough. That’s wonderful. Perhaps you could play with Beth sometime.”

“Oh, Rose, you’re lying, aren’t you? If you’re not particularly good, how could you have taught children?”

The atmosphere at the table, which had been relatively peaceful until then, completely changed at Beth’s final remark.

Agatha was staring at Rose with an expression of shock.

“……What?”

“Yes?”

Rose was even more startled by Agatha’s intense reaction and instinctively asked back.

“You said you taught the piano to whom?”

“Mostly schoolgirls.”

Even though it was such an obvious and simple situation, her mother-in-law seemed to become increasingly confused.

“……Why? Were you doing charity work? I suppose the late Mrs. Davis made you do it.”

“What? No. To earn money.”

The moment Rose finished answering, the napkin Agatha had been holding fell to the floor.

“So.”

Agatha was so shocked that she didn’t even notice the napkin she had been holding so carefully had fallen unceremoniously to the floor.

“So. You mean you worked like Miss Gordon? In Bolton?”

Miss Gordon was Beth’s governess.

“Like Miss Gordon, who teaches our Beth, you did that kind of work too?”

Rose could not understand at all why this was such a shocking thing.

Then again, considering what had happened on her very first day in this house, perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising.

On the first day she had arrived here, when Rose had tried to dress and undress herself, Agatha had clutched her chest and cried out—

“My goodness, you’re not a maid!”

After that, whenever Rose did anything, her mother-in-law would say the same thing.

You’re not a maid.

Even now, Agatha wore exactly the same expression.

The shocked expression of someone who had witnessed not her daughter-in-law, but a maid daring to sit at the same table.

“What does your father do?”

“There were times when his business was struggling.”

It was true that there had been several periods when his business was bad enough that he couldn’t even provide child support.

Later, however, he stopped giving them money because he was maintaining two households.

He had even threatened her mother, saying he would give her money if she agreed to a divorce.

But if Rose told her this part, she felt her refined mother-in-law might simply collapse on the spot.

“Is it really so wrong to earn money by playing the piano? I heard the Countess of Greenwood plays the piano too.”

Rose had never once thought it was shameful to earn money as a piano teacher.

If anything, it had been the only escape that allowed her to endure life back then, the only thing that kept her from sinking into self-loathing.

“My goodness, how can you compare yourself to her! Sophia—the Countess of Greenwood—plays as a hobby! That falls under refinement. It is basic accomplishment.”

“Then are you saying that I shouldn’t work and earn money?”

At Rose’s question, Agatha’s expression hardened.

“If you are a lady, then of course you shouldn’t! Never ask such a question anywhere again.”

“Mother, it isn’t like that anymore. Mrs. Sullivan writes for the newspaper too.”

“Is that the same thing? I hear she gets paid for it. And this is not your place, Beth.”

“What’s wrong with getting paid? You should be paid for your labor. I can write to Mrs. Sullivan tomorrow, can’t I? Ask whether she gets paid or not?”

“Elisabeth Mary Crawford. That is enough. You need to stop reading so many novels.”

Beth, who had been about to protest despite Agatha’s cold expression, finally closed her mouth when Rose quietly gave her a look.

Rose didn’t want Beth stepping into the conversation to defend her.

Agatha would only think Rose had corrupted Beth.

“I wasn’t a lady in Bolton. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“But your mother, Mrs. Davis—”

“There are no nobles in Bolton. Even if you hold a title from Antaka or Ortura, it means nothing in Bolton.”

Of course, just like anywhere else, there were plenty of people in Bolton who admired such things.

“I know well enough that neither your mother nor your maternal grandfather held a title. But that doesn’t change the fact that your family was of noble origin. I heard your late mother was highly educated and had people in her service.”

“My mother did have one maid, but that was all. I took care of my own affairs and lived that way.”

Judging by how shocked Agatha looked, it seemed she hadn’t properly heard about Rose’s previous life.