Chapter 49

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: A Difference in Status
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It was Lucrezia, of course, who responded most favorably to her daughter’s claims of innocence. Isabella took full advantage of her mother’s support and the fact that no one in the family had witnessed the incident firsthand.

“It was wrong of me not to stop her. But I swear, I didn’t do it!”

Feeling sorry for her crying eldest daughter, Lucrezia passionately defended Isabella.

“Your Eminence, what have you heard that makes you trust it more than your own daughter’s words! Don’t you feel any pity for this crying child?!”

Isabella burrowed into Lucrezia’s arms like a baby and sobbed her heart out. Thanks to Isabella’s dramatic performance and Lucrezia’s vehement defense, the dinner atmosphere was drenched in tears, shifting toward the sentiment that perhaps they should give the defiant Isabella the benefit of the doubt. Meanwhile, the lavishly prepared feast remained untouched by anyone in the family. As the seafood stew and truffle risotto grew cold, a famished Arabella secretly reached for a chicken dumpling, but her arm accidentally knocked over the seafood stew. —*Clatter!* The plate of seafood stew overturned. The red tomato seafood stew splattered messily onto Arabella’s dress and the white tablecloth. Cardinal de Mare snapped at the clumsy Arabella in irritation.

“How careless! I’ve lost my appetite, completely! Ugh!”

He threw his fork and knife onto the table with a loud clatter and, having eaten only a piece of bread dipped in olive oil, rose from the dinner table and left. The atmosphere was a complete mess. Lucrezia shrieked at the blameless Arabella.

“Your father left because of you! You’ve ruined this tablecloth, and it was one of my favorites!”

Then, Lucrezia too took the crying Isabella and retreated to her chambers. As Arabella shrank back, her neck disappearing between her shoulders like a turtle, Ariadne offered a simple word of comfort.

“It’s not your fault.”

Ariadne nodded at Arabella, who stared back with wide eyes.

“Really.”

Wiping the tomato soup off Arabella with a napkin, Ariadne gave a concise order to the servants who were cautiously observing the scene amidst the cold dishes.

“Bring the next course.”

Letting such things get to her would be foolish. Especially in difficult times, one needed to eat well, rest well, and recharge for the future.

“You should finish your food before you go upstairs. Don’t miss the meat course that’s coming soon, and make sure you chew it well.”

Ariadne said, pushing a dish toward Arabella. Arabella obediently put the chicken dumpling in her mouth as instructed and looked at Ariadne while she chewed. Despite her words to Arabella, Ariadne herself hadn’t touched her meal, save for a few tomatoes from her Caprese salad.

“...Ari, aren’t you eating?”

“I had a late lunch.”

Ariadne replied calmly with a composed smile. Her hand trembled slightly, but it was fine.

***

Sobbing, Isabella entered her mother’s chambers, finally able to speak her mind.

“Mother, do you know what that crazy bitch Ariadne said to me?”

“What? What did she say to you?”

Hearing that the newcomer had dared to touch her precious gem, Lucrezia flew into a rage before even hearing the full story.

“What on earth did that wretched girl say?”

“She… Mother, she said she was going to bury me!”

Lucrezia paused. Though she was fully prepared to agree with whatever Isabella said, she wondered if she had misheard.

“Bury you?”

“Yes!”

“Are you sure you didn’t mishear something like she was calling you bold, or saying you had guts?”

Lucrezia asked cautiously.

“That quiet, gloomy girl used such language?”

Isabella flared up in anger.

“You don’t believe me either, Mother? She said, ‘you fucking bitch,’ and that she’d bury me. She told me to watch my back at night!”

Lucrezia had never once seen Ariadne curse. The second daughter, brought in from the outside, had never even uttered a common ‘damn it’. It was something she remembered specifically because it was so peculiar for a girl born of a maid and raised on a farm attached to a country estate.

*Well, her mother was a calm one, too.*

Isabella’s irritation boiled over when even her own mother wouldn’t believe her. Everyone believed her when she lied, but now, when she was telling the absolute truth, her own mother didn't believe her!

“Mother, you really don’t believe me?! Why are you making that face? That damn girl really said it!”

“No, no, of course Mother believes her Isabella. You must have been so upset.”

Although Lucrezia belatedly tried to soothe her beloved eldest daughter with all her heart, Isabella had already noticed her mother’s lack of conviction.

“Aargh! This is so frustrating! That wretched girl, I won’t let her get away with this! I hate you too, Mother!”

***

Isabella was not the only one to have an unsatisfying time with her mother. Upon returning to the palace after Ariadne’s ball, Alfonso swallowed hard when he heard that Queen Marguerite had summoned him. The time had come. Queen Marguerite had previously warned Prince Alfonso to be careful with his conduct, as marriage talks were underway with a princess from Gallico. And yet, he had secretly attended another young lady’s débutante ball behind his mother’s back, tried to be her partner but failed, and nearly gotten into a fight with other young ladies—and to top it all off, his mother’s closest confidante, Countess Marquez, had witnessed the entire spectacle. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of scolding awaited him today. Would his mother yell? Would she cry? Alfonso could endure his mother’s scolding, but he hated her tears. They were an ordeal. The guilt of having made her so sad, the rebellious thought of *Did I really do something so wrong?*, and the ensuing self-censorship all tangled together into an unbearable emotion. Wondering what awaited him, Prince Alfonso reluctantly followed the attendant from the queen’s palace who had brought the summons and entered his mother’s residence. After passing through a long corridor and several rooms, he pushed aside a simple twill curtain and entered his mother’s private chambers, where Queen Marguerite was waiting for him, seated in a one-person armchair. Queen Marguerite, who was sensitive to the cold, already had a fire going in the fireplace. Each time the embers in the fireplace flickered, Queen Marguerite’s shadow danced wildly.

“Your Majesty. You summoned me.”

“Yes, have a seat.”

Queen Marguerite snapped shut the report she was reading, placed it on the side table, and looked at her son.

“I hear you attended the débutante ball of Cardinal de Mare’s second daughter.”

“Her name is Ariadne. You know her name, Mother.”

Queen Marguerite frowned at her stubborn son’s defiance but corrected the title.

“Yes. Ariadne.”

She picked up the report from the side table and handed it to her son. Prince Alfonso skimmed its contents.

“It’s a report on the Grand Duke de Valois of Gallico and his daughter.”

“That’s right. Lariesa de Valois. She is your prospective fiancée; marriage talks are currently underway.”

To preserve the nobility of their bloodline, it was customary for royalty to marry royalty from neighboring kingdoms, but canon law forbade marriage within the sixth degree of kinship. Since Queen Marguerite was a princess from the Kingdom of Gallico, Prince Alfonso was a first cousin to the current king of Gallico and his younger sister, the princess. Naturally, this meant a marriage with Princess Auguste of Gallico was impossible due to the church’s prohibition of consanguineous marriage. Therefore, the most nobly-born young lady the Kingdom of Gallico could currently offer was Grand Duchess Lariesa, the second daughter of the Grand Duke de Valois and an eighth cousin to the current King Philippe IV. Prince Alfonso placed the half-read report on the side table next to him. He had no desire to finish it.

“And?”

“Next month, a diplomatic envoy from the Kingdom of Gallico is scheduled to visit San Carlo. They will be discussing the specifics of your marriage proposal.”

Queen Marguerite stared intently at her son.

“What happened yesterday is in the past. It can be buried. But while the Gallican envoy is here, you must conduct yourself with absolute propriety. Make sure I hear no talk of you being intimate with some lady from some house.”

A look of dismay crossed Prince Alfonso’s face at his mother’s firm words.

“Mother, Ariadne is not just ‘some lady from some house.’”

The queen’s expression hardened.

“Are you saying you intend to marry her, then? There is a clear difference in your stations. She is illegitimate, the child of a cardinal. Of course, since she’s a cardinal’s child, it wouldn’t matter if she were legitimate or not. If she were the bastard of a Pope, I might have been able to turn a blind eye and let you marry her. But she is not. A prince and the bastard of a cardinal? No, that will not do. It is impossible in this lifetime.”

Queen Marguerite firmly reminded her son of his position.

“You are not in a position to elope with just any woman you fancy. You are the one and only heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Etruscan. End it now, at this stage, before it gets serious.”

Seeing her son hesitate, she drove the point home.

“Dragging this out any further will only cause trouble for the young lady. She has a reputation and a marriageable age to consider. If she misses her chance to marry because she’s tied to you, with whom there is no possibility of a future, then you will be doing Ariadne a great disservice.”

This time, a look of genuine confusion appeared on Alfonso’s face. It was a point the prince had never once considered. Queen Marguerite paused for a moment before adding, out of an abundance of caution.

“No more escorting her to official events, no more exchanging letters. Stop it all. Being seen together is an imposition on her, and giving her false hope is a great discourtesy. Behave like a gentleman.”

***

One man faced his mother’s staunch opposition regarding Ariadne, but another had his mother’s full support. The problem for this one was that he had failed to win the lady’s heart.

“Ottavio. What methods do you use when you’re trying to woo a woman who says she doesn’t like you?”

Ottavio de Contarini stared at Cesare de Como as if he were the strangest creature he had ever seen.

“You, the capital’s greatest playboy, are asking me how to woo a woman? If there’s something you don’t know about women, how would I?”

Cesare snuffed out the match he was toying with and tossed it into the wastebasket.

“I’ve never had to woo a woman. They’ve always come to me first.”

It was an arrogant statement, but it was true. Cesare de Como was the most popular man in San Carlo. Who said young women were shy? He was constantly inundated with love letters and gifts from young ladies. Over the years, Cesare had set all sorts of records that repeatedly shattered the confidence of Ottavio de Contarini, who had witnessed everything firsthand. As if the disparity in their fortunes wasn’t enough, Cesare had to rub it in with a question that only highlighted the fact. Ottavio pressed a hand to his forehead. Cesare looked at Ottavio nonchalantly.

“Why the face? Am I that unpleasant to look at?”

Ottavio glared at Cesare in disbelief as the latter muttered, “What can I do? It’s the truth.” But he soon collected his wits for the sake of his friend.

“If you’re not sure, why not start with the basics? No woman dislikes flowers. Though, some dislike receiving only flowers, thinking it lacks sincerity. So, send a gift along with the flowers. It’s a surefire method.”