Chapter 12

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: The True Face of Beautiful Isabella
-----------------------------------------------------------------

It was an exaggerated, high-pitched gasp of admiration.
But paired with her nightingale-like voice, it drew everyone's gaze to Isabella. The person she addressed was her own mother, Lucrezia. Her intended audience, however, was blatantly Queen Marguerite and her ladies-in-waiting.

“I'm so delighted that Her Majesty requested a sermon on the sacrifice of Gon of Yesak. It's my favorite part, isn't it, Mother?”

Lucrezia, pleased, played along with her daughter's tune.

“It seems teaching you the Gallican language paid off. What part did you like the most?”

“The part where Gon of Yesak made his sacrifice! I love the part where the people all thanked him after he sacrificed himself for all mankind.”

The atmosphere grew chilly. According to the Holy Book, Gon of Yesak made two sacrifices. The first time he gave his life, he was scorned and died in solitude. It was only after he performed the miracle of resurrection and sacrificed himself again to prevent divine punishment from descending upon the continent that the common people began to praise and revere him. Today's sermon was about Gon of Yesak's first sacrifice. Isabella, with her limited Gallican, had only caught the word 'sacrifice' and, assuming the sermon was about the second sacrifice favored by the nobility, had tried to show off, only to reveal her poor grasp of the foreign language.

“After a long journey, praise does eventually follow sacrifice.”

One of Queen Marguerite's ladies-in-waiting, who had followed her from the Kingdom of Gallico, tried to ease the tension with an awkward laugh.
But Isabella, failing to understand the lady-in-waiting's kind attempt to save her, just smiled brightly.

“But right after Gon of Yesak died on the cross, didn't all the residents of the seven hills of Gaias immediately come out and weep in unison? Ah—of course, his death was a sad affair, but how thrilling it must have been for his disciples?”

Now, the atmosphere turned as frigid as the air inside an icehouse. To envy the fame a saint might have gained instead of appreciating his sacrifice was a remark that cast doubt on her character, one that couldn't be excused as mere immaturity. Even Lucrezia, who didn't speak Gallican at all and couldn't gauge her daughter's mistake, felt her spirit shrink as she glanced around. However, Isabella, who was always oblivious at the strangest moments, simply widened her large, pretty eyes and blinked, looking at the people around her. With a wry smile, Ariadne finally stepped forward.

“I most admire the courage that Gon of Yesak showed.”

It seemed the only way to salvage the mood was for her, the youngest, to play the part of a charming child.

“He must have been so frightened before he died.”

“Ah.”

“What a kind young lady.”

The sight of a girl, whose appearance was still on the cusp of adulthood, deeply empathizing with the saint's suffering brought smiles to the adults' faces. As the tension broke for a moment, the noblewomen quickly changed the subject with a few bits of social chatter. A moment later, Ariadne added, “And he must have been anxious about leaving his legacy to the immoral, selfish, and unintelligent,” but no one seemed to hear her. Queen Marguerite, however, was the exception. She looked at her lady-in-waiting and whispered in her ear, “So the younger one speaks Galica.”

The queen, now satisfied, turned her gaze to Lucrezia.
Lucrezia, wearing a dress with a neckline a finger's width lower than was socially acceptable, as she often did, met the queen's gaze and curtsied extravagantly.

“Lucrezia de Rossi, a parishioner of the Taranto diocese in the Kingdom of Etruscan, greets Your Majesty, Queen Marguerite!”

Her fussiness was a desperate attempt to hide her intimidation. Lucrezia was merely Cardinal de Mare's mistress. Thus, officially, she still had to refer to herself by her maiden name. Ariadne thought it would be hilarious if Queen Marguerite were to address Lucrezia as ‘Miss Lucrezia.’ Despite having borne three children, with her eldest son now grown, Lucrezia had never been married. If someone called her ‘Miss Lucrezia’ to her face, she would probably turn pale and tremble, then go home and throw a hysterical fit for a week, smashing things around the house. But Queen Marguerite, apparently having no intention of antagonizing the cardinal's mistress, acknowledged Lucrezia's greeting with a nod.

“...”

As if embarrassed by the queen's silence, a lady-in-waiting cheerfully guided them.

“Please come to the drawing room. The ladies are gathered there.”

The queen walked on with dignity, not uttering a single word directly to Cardinal de Mare's family. Instead, her lady-in-waiting led Lucrezia and her party down a small corridor to a drawing room behind the private chapel.

“Oh, my! It’s truly lovely!”

Befitting Isabella's exclamation, the small drawing room was beautifully decorated with green silk and mahogany. A few ladies sat inside, each holding a cup of afternoon tea. They were Queen Marguerite's closest confidantes. Lucrezia, entering awkwardly, looked around, trying to figure out where to sit. Though joining such an inner circle had been Lucrezia's lifelong dream, now that the day had come, she seemed at a loss for how to act.

“Ah, hello.”

As Lucrezia greeted them awkwardly and headed for a sofa in the center, the noblewomen shifted away like a flock of pigeons avoiding a passerby. The one who most conspicuously avoided Lucrezia was a tall noblewoman with gray hair. Ariadne let out a dry laugh.

‘To think I'd run into her here.’

It was Countess Marquez. The very same countess who, in her past life, had spread rumors that Cesare was Leo III's illegitimate son, only to have her hair pulled by Ariadne at a tea party. Countess Marquez, of course, did not recognize the young Ariadne. Instead, when Queen Marguerite entered the drawing room, she rose with a broad smile to greet her.

“Your Majesty!”

The noblewomen in the drawing room greeted the queen brightly and boisterously. Queen Marguerite, who hadn't said a word to Lucrezia, smiled warmly and returned the greeting to Countess Marquez in a friendly manner.

“Countess Marquez, my faithful friend, you look well today.”

“It is all thanks to Your Majesty's gracious favor.”

The pale-skinned queen, whose blonde hair was the same color as the prince's, couldn't hide an accent that marked her unmistakably as a foreigner. Lucrezia was slightly surprised by the thick Gallican accent, but not one of the noblewomen in the queen's drawing room showed any sign of finding it strange, all of them beaming. Queen Marguerite glanced sideways at Lucrezia, Isabella, and Ariadne, who were hovering on the fringes, unable to join the group, and offered a nonchalant introduction.

“These are Cardinal de Mare's family. I invited them because I heard his daughter was bright and deeply devout.”

At the mention of ‘the cardinal's daughter,’ the noblewomen whispered and turned their gazes toward Isabella. Despite Lucrezia's failure to secure a firm place in high society due to her status, Isabella had already gained a reputation for being intelligent and the most beautiful woman in San Carlo since her débutante last year. Isabella took a half step forward, gathered the hem of her dress, and curtsied gracefully.

“I am Isabella de Mare. It is an honor to meet the most esteemed ladies in the kingdom.”

The rosy blush on her fair skin was utterly lovely. Dressed in a high-quality, ivory-colored gown beneath a pearl-adorned headpiece, Isabella looked impeccably beautiful and noble, regardless of the blemish of her birth.

“Oh, so this is the young Lady Isabella de Mare.”

“She's just as beautiful as the rumors say.”

“And so charming.”

Facing the chattering noblewomen, Ariadne offered her own greeting a half-beat later. Her greeting, however, was not for the ladies; her gaze and body were turned toward Queen Marguerite.

“I am the second daughter, Ariadne de Mare. May the blessing of Gon of Yesak be upon your noble bloodline.”

The noblewomen, after seeing the beautiful and immaculately raised elder daughter, seemed a bit lost for words upon seeing the shabby and somber younger one. Adjectives like ‘how pretty’ had all been spent on the first daughter, leaving no compliments left to give. But the queen received Ariadne's greeting with pleasure. Her lips remained stern, but deep crow's feet, the kind that appeared when she smiled, formed at the corners of her eyes.

“For one so young, you have excellent manners.”

This was the first time Queen Marguerite had spoken directly to a member of the de Mare family. She was apparently pleased that Ariadne had directed the honor to her, not the noblewomen. Once Ariadne received the queen's approval, the noblewomen, as if they'd never spared Isabella a glance, began to shower Ariadne with praise, saying how composed the young lady was and how well-educated she seemed. Instantly pushed out of the spotlight, Isabella clenched her teeth.

‘Queen Marguerite must be blind!’

Just then, Countess Marquez, who was leading the group of ladies, addressed Lucrezia, who was sitting on the outskirts.

“Lady Isabella's dress is lovely. Which dressmaker did you commission it from?”

Lucrezia, delighted by a word from a true noble, brightened up and replied.

“Our household seamstress made it at home.”

Isabella, as if not to miss the opportunity, smartly smoothed out the hem of her dress, drawing everyone's attention.

It was a bespoke dress of the highest quality, made with a generous amount of top-grade silk to add volume and complement Isabella's slender figure. Beneath the thick silk fabric, the lace of a fine chemise could be glimpsed.

“The seamstress is quite skilled. I'd like to have one made for my daughter, but it's a shame it wasn't bought from a dressmaker.”

Lucrezia, who was truly starved for regular interaction with a real noblewoman, offered a favor that was excessive for a first meeting.

“You can simply commission our seamstress. For Countess Marquez, she is always available.”

Countess Marquez smiled with a peculiar expression.

“A skilled seamstress must be slow. I couldn't possibly add to her workload. Aren't the seamstresses who made the first and second daughters' clothes different people?”

“...!”

“Now that you mention it?”

At the loaded question, the noblewomen began to look back and forth between Isabella's and Ariadne's dresses. Indeed, there was a stark difference in the attire of the elder and younger daughters. Isabella's ensemble was exceedingly luxurious. Her dress, shoes, and hair ornaments were all top-quality items that perfectly matched the latest fashion. Ariadne, however, clearly showed signs of not having received an adult's touch. Had Lucrezia been more established in society, the ladies would have held their tongues. But Lucrezia had no standing, and Queen Marguerite didn't seem to hold her in any special regard. The Marchioness of Cibo, always second to Countess Marquez, glanced at Queen Marguerite's expression, and seeming to decide it was safe, openly fired the first shot.

“A virtuous lady must see to it that her children are well cared for.”

As if not to be outdone, or perhaps as if she had been waiting for this, Countess Marquez immediately chimed in.

“A mistress may be wicked, but a child is a member of the family nonetheless. One's existence depends on one's family.”

The ladies all added their own comments, one after another.

“Such lack of refinement... common sense...”

“The child is blameless...”

“How pitiful...”

Lucrezia's face turned red and then purple, but having dressed her own daughter in the finest clothes while dressing her illegitimate one in rags, she had nothing to say for herself, even if she had ten mouths. Lucrezia wasn't quick on her feet, either. It was Isabella who saved her mother from this predicament.

“Pardon me, ladies. My sister has been unwell and only recently returned from our estate in Bergamo.”

Isabella smiled prettily, approached Ariadne as if for all to see, and took her hand in a friendly manner.

“Our seamstress is currently making all of my sister's clothes from the finest materials. She's still so thin and small that I gave her a dress I wore last year.”

“...”

“It was made to suit my own simple tastes. Sisters often share clothes when they're young, don't they?”

Isabella looked at Ariadne and smiled affectionately. A dimple appeared on her baby-like skin.

“Isn't that right, my dear sister?”

Ariadne smiled back at Isabella.

‘Seeing is believing, after all.’

Instead of tattling on Lucrezia's misdeeds, Ariadne shot up from her seat and, just as Isabella had done moments before, shook out the hem of her dress.

“That's right, sister. It's a wonderful dress, more than I deserve. I didn't realize it was a hand-me-down, but I like it very much.”

As the hem of the dress fluttered, the cotton chemise she wore underneath was revealed. Seeing the old, worn-out chemise, the noblewomen gasped in unison.

"Heavens! Look how coarse that cotton is!"

“It's completely yellowed! What color was it originally?”

"Look at that stain! That's a splash mark from housework! Do they make her do kitchen chores?"

Lucrezia's face went deathly pale.