Chapter 37

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Isabella's Scheme
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The 150 ducats Ariadne had been allotted were meant to cover her personal preparations as well as all the party arrangements for the débutante ball.
This included food, drinks, decorations, musicians, the program, and any special events.
Ariadne began by taking stock of everything they already had in the house.

"Things we can use... the family crest, the furniture, the wine in the cellar... Is that about it?"

Sancha replied.

"You should be able to use the kitchen staff. Surely Lady Lucrezia wouldn't forbid that. Though she'll probably keep you from touching the ingredients."

"She always exceeds my expectations, but she'll be mindful of Father. We can buy ingredients from outside. It's not like we have enough here to make everything anyway. The one cost we absolutely can't cut is the musicians."

"Huh? My lady? Aren't you ordering a tapestry?"

In the year 1122, decorating for a ball in San Carlo typically involved choosing a specific theme and unifying the hall's atmosphere with matching fabrics for banister covers, chair slipcovers, and tablecloths.
Additionally, an embroidered tapestry evoking the ball's theme would be commissioned to hang on the wall.

"We have the family crest, but we'd need a separate tapestry for the party. And we're short on time. The best embroidery shops in the city are probably already fully booked."

A ball celebrating a military victory might feature an embroidery of the most critical battle, while one for a royal birth might depict the nativity of that royal's patron saint.
The more numerous and intricate these embroidered tapestries were, the more lavish the ball was considered. For extravagant events, it was common to spend one to two years and two to three hundred ducats on the embroidery alone.

"Come here."

Ariadne pulled Sancha close and whispered a few things in her ear.

"What do you think? Can you do it?"

"Wha—?! It would certainly save money, but... I can do it if you ask. But... will it be all right, my lady?"

"Trust me. The reaction will be fantastic."

*It's because I'm borrowing the latest trend from 1123. Though it'll be banned soon enough.*

Ariadne snapped the ledger shut and said energetically.

"I think we can do it. Let's go for it!"

"Yes, my lady!"

***

While Ariadne was coordinating the entire ball on a budget of 150 ducats, Isabella was in the middle of spending 50 ducats on her own adornments.

"'The Girl Who Sees the Truth'? Is that some kind of joke?!"

Isabella vented her anger at Maletta, who was helping her get ready.

"Even I don't have a title like that!"

"The second young lady is truly audacious. She's inferior to you in every way—looks, talent, and character. Why must she act so presumptuously?"

"Exactly!"

Unable to contain her fury, Isabella snapped the thin wooden stick she was using to apply scented oil to her eyelashes.

"At this débutante ball, I will show everyone who is superior. I must be more beautiful than her, no matter what."

"You can achieve that just by breathing."

"I know, but! It must be decisive! Unmistakable! I have to be more beautiful, beyond any doubt!"

Maletta soothed her as she combed Isabella's hair.

"In thirty minutes, Madame Clemenza herself will arrive from the Colleoni boutique. Isn't Colleoni the undisputed number one dressmaker on Tiberi Street? You have a better figure, a better dress, and you'll be perfectly adorned. How could you possibly be less beautiful than Lady Ariadne?"

"Right? You think so?"

"Of course."

The Colleoni boutique on Tiberi Street was indeed a shop worthy of Maletta's bold claims.
In San Carlo, places that tailored clothes for nobles and socialites were generally divided into boutiques and dress shops. The latter were accessible to common people, provided they had the means.
The former, however, were exclusive spaces open only to a select few.
The boutiques were located on the main road along the Tiberi River, used the finest Moorish fabrics imported by Porto merchants via sea trade, and were booked months in advance, making them difficult to patronize without connections.
It went without saying that their prices were exorbitant.
While the dress shops followed trends, the boutiques set them, and the Colleoni boutique was at the very forefront.

"Lady Isabella, Madame Clemenza has arrived."

Isabella's face lit up as she received the maid's announcement.

"Show Madame Clemenza to my mother's drawing room."

"Yes, my lady."

Isabella usually received her guests in the girls' drawing room on the west side of the second floor, which she shared with Arabella and Ariadne. Today, however, she had no intention of letting Ariadne know what she would be wearing.
Receiving Madame Clemenza in Lucrezia's east drawing room, Isabella treated her with the utmost hospitality.

"This tea is from the Moorish Empire, and the desserts are from the Kingdom of Gallico. They're delicious. My absolute favorites. Please, have some."

Isabella picked up an exquisite, sugar-laden tea cake with her fingers and offered it to Madame Clemenza.
But Madame Clemenza, with a kind yet professional demeanor, declined Isabella's offer.

"Thank you, my lady, but I have to handle many fabrics today. I cannot eat anything that might get my fingers oily."

Isabella was annoyed that her hospitality had been refused, but since Madame Clemenza was an important person, she suppressed her irritation and smiled brightly.

"Oh, is that so? I'm not very fond of tea cakes myself. Let's look at the fabrics."

Casually contradicting what she had just said, Isabella tossed the tea cake back onto the plate and began to look through the catalogs and fabric samples Madame Clemenza had brought.
The fabrics Madame Clemenza presented were mostly dark in color.
To welcome the autumn season, the young ladies of San Carlo usually ordered dresses in muted tones of blue, burgundy, and mustard.
But none of them caught Isabella's eye.
Isabella flipped through the fabrics perfunctorily before stopping and posing a question to Madame Clemenza.

"Don't you have any lighter colors? Like white or cream."

Surprised by the request, Madame Clemenza gestured for her assistant to bring over the fabric sample patches that had been set aside.
They were fabrics she had put at the bottom, not expecting to use them today.
Before presenting the fabrics, she double-checked her client's intentions.

"Forgive my presumption, Lady de Mare."

"Yes?"

"Aren't you having this dress made for your sister's débutante ball? Are you sure you wish to choose white?"

At a débutante ball, it was proper etiquette for everyone except the débutante and her partner to avoid wearing white.
Isabella, of course, had worn a white dress to her own débutante ball last year.
And on that day, she had hurled every insult imaginable—from rude and thoughtless to malicious—at anyone whose dress was even slightly light in color.
But Isabella was Isabella.
She had no qualms about inflicting upon others the same unpleasantness she herself wished to avoid.

*Just shut up and do as you're told! Why are you so meddlesome...!*

Isabella bit her tongue for a moment to swallow the harsh words threatening to escape her lips.
Madame Clemenza was a formidable figure, someone even Isabella struggled to get an appointment with.
She worried about the consequences of acting rashly.
Barely suppressing the urge to unleash a tirade for fear of being banned from Colleoni, she thought of herself as a truly polite and good person for showing such restraint, and then lied without batting an eye.

"Well, if it were a joint débutante ball, it would be rude to the other young ladies, so avoiding white would be proper. But this is a private ball at home, just for my sister, isn't it?"

Isabella smiled sweetly and continued.

"We sisters are so close that my younger sister insisted the three of us match in white dresses."

"...Is that so."

In Madame Clemenza's twenty years of running a boutique, she could tell something was amiss with Isabella.
If three sisters were to wear matching dresses, it would be normal for all three to have them made at the same boutique.
Yet Isabella's two younger sisters were nowhere to be seen.
Besides, she knew the youngest lady of the house was not even old enough to attend a débutante ball, making the idea of matching dress colors even more questionable.
But Madame Clemenza was a boutique owner, not a judge.

"If a white dress is what the young lady desires, then so it shall be."

Her job was to make the dress; the consequences were for the wearer to handle.
Ominously, Isabella's eyes sparkled as she added one more request.

"Please make it the most spectacular and shockingly new design anyone has ever seen."

***

Isabella had lost face among her friends due to the recent song plagiarism incident.
But there were too many intertwined relationships to sever ties with the most beautiful girl in San Carlo over such a matter, and Isabella's influence was simply too great.
And so, with nowhere to vent her frustrations, Camelia de Castiglione once again found herself heading to an afternoon tea party, effectively hosted by Isabella de Mare, with her fiancé in tow.

"Please, come inside, Lady de Castiglione."

The most dapper *il domestico* the Leonati viscounty could afford—a handsome, tall male servant hired at a high salary to greet guests—guided Camelia inside, dressed in a luxurious uniform.
Today's afternoon tea party was held at the Leonati viscounty estate.
It was hosted for Isabella's sake by her loyal subordinate, Lady Leticia de Leonati.
Leticia, whose pretty name belied her brawny build and unconventional features, compensated for her own meager presence in society with the fact that she was friends with the beautiful and popular Isabella.
Naturally, she was fiercely devoted to Isabella to maintain that position.

"Thank you."

Camelia de Castiglione forced a smile, keeping up appearances for the *il domestico*.
Beside her, Ottavio de Contarini escorted her as they entered together.

"Signor Ottavio, welcome to the Leonati estate."

Unlike Camelia, who was addressed by her surname as 'Lady de Castiglione', Ottavio de Contarini was called 'Signor Ottavio', by his first name.
This was because he was the son of a count.
The children of counts and higher-ranking families were addressed by their first names, while those from baronial, viscountial, or untitled families had to be called by their surnames.
'Lady de Castiglione' was part of this custom, a form of address that reflected the Castiglione family's status, holding only a barony.
Not even Isabella of the immensely powerful de Mare family was an exception.

"Lady de Mare, a warm welcome to the Leonati estate."

Receiving the *il domestico*'s polite greeting, Isabella furrowed her pretty brow.

"'Signora Giulia,' the House of Leonati welcomes the daughter of the House of Valdesal."

It was a stark comparison to Giulia de Valdesal, who followed right behind her.
As the daughter of the Marquis de Valdesal, Giulia was addressed by her own name, not her family's.
Isabella could have a dress from Madame Clemenza and was the object of envy for every young man in the capital, but she could never be addressed by her first name in a formal setting.

*What does Giulia de Valdesal have that I don't?*

There was no doubt that Isabella de Mare, the greatest beauty and talent in San Carlo, had a brighter future ahead of her than the sharp yet plain-looking Giulia de Valdesal.
At least, that was what Isabella herself believed.
Yet in official settings, Isabella's place was always one step behind Giulia's.

Isabella was tired of standing behind the name of her tiresome family.
The family belonged to her father, and in time, it would belong to her brother.
The only glory Isabella could truly possess was not that of her family or their name, but the glory attached to her own.

*Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella.*

When that day came, she would be able to stand on her own as an individual.
Until then, she had no choice but to make the most of what she had.
To reach that position, Isabella intended to use every trick and scheme at her disposal, regardless of the means.