Chapter 60

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Setting a Mousetrap for a Greater Injustice
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Ariadne had already come to an agreement with Mrs. Marini of the Ragione Tailor Shop. At first, Mrs. Marini had refused Ariadne’s request—to establish a business relationship with Lucrezia, give her the kickbacks she demanded, and then hand over the ledger detailing the transactions to Ariadne.

“My lady! That is…! If word got out that we did such a thing, our tailor shop’s reputation would be ruined.”

As if she had expected this, Ariadne persuaded Mrs. Marini without wavering.

“This is a disgrace within the Cardinal de Mare family. I can assure you, at least from our side, not a word will leak to the outside.”

“Even so, if your plan succeeds, won’t Cardinal de Mare sever his ties with our shop?”

The picture Ariadne painted was one where she would take the evidence of Lucrezia’s kickbacks from the Ragione Tailor Shop and report it to Cardinal de Mare. This was embezzlement. Naturally, the Cardinal would see the Ragione Tailor Shop as corrupt accomplices in Lucrezia’s crime.

“We have a two-season exclusive clothing contract with you, my lady. It would be a problem if that were to be terminated. Thanks to you wearing our clothes, we’ve been receiving quite a few orders from the young ladies of San Carlo’s high society.”

That was true. Although the torn dress at the débutante ball had drawn unfavorable attention, the old saying that infamy is another name for fame proved true, sparking an explosion of interest in the Ragione Tailor Shop. Young ladies who had thought the dress was beautiful at the time had flooded the shop with orders. Just as the rush of orders from the débutante dress trend had subsided, the green striped dress she wore to the hunting competition became a massive hit. That autumn in San Carlo, anything Ariadne wore, down to the very fabric of her dresses, sold out completely. These days, the skilled artisans at the Ragione Tailor Shop were busy making identical hunting dresses from similar fabrics. At Mrs. Marini’s words, Ariadne smiled faintly.

“What do you think will happen after these two seasons?”

Mrs. Marini could not answer Ariadne’s question. While she was at a loss for words, Ariadne asked again.

“Do you really think I will continue to do business with the Ragione Tailor Shop after two seasons?”

Mrs. Marini flinched and straightened her posture. Ariadne was now San Carlo’s so-called ‘it girl.’ She was the ‘most watched rising star’ and, as Camelia de Castiglione had once said, indisputably ‘the greatest talent in San Carlo.’ While the title had shifted frequently in recent years from Camelia to Isabella, and from Isabella to Ariadne, such a status typically lasted at least two to three years, and sometimes for more than fifteen. For Ariadne, who enjoyed such a position, to be having her clothes made at a tailor shop rather than a couturier’s salon was, in fact, very strange.

“I am well aware that you have no intention of elevating your shop to a salon.”

The Ragione Tailor Shop was a family business run by a family from a small suburban town. They employed relatives and old village neighbors as seamstresses, providing them with work. They were not the finest seamstresses, which made it difficult for the Ragione Tailor Shop to produce goods beyond a certain level of quality. But the Marini family believed that coexisting with the people of their hometown was a more important value than becoming the most successful salon in San Carlo.

“Things can’t always be good, and you can’t avoid the bad parts and only enjoy the good. Once the two-season contract is over, I will have fulfilled my promise and will move my business to a salon. That is the natural order of things. Then, the Ragione Tailor Shop will return to how it was before.”

“…!”

It was a surprising, yet unsurprising, turn of events. Since the Ragione Tailor Shop couldn’t produce the same quality as a salon, this was the inevitable course.

“But a tailor shop isn’t the only way to make money, is it?”

“Pardon…?”

“If my plan succeeds, it is true that the business between the de Mare family and the Ragione Tailor Shop will end. My father will see to that. But what if you were to open a second shop under a different name? Not for ladies’ apparel, but for footmen’s uniforms, servants’ and maids’ clothing, and household linens like curtains and bedding.”

“…!”

“When I take over the de Mare household’s affairs, I plan to reduce the number of servants. That means I will need an external supplier to handle all the clothing and linens used in the de Mare household.”

Once the power struggle within the family began in earnest, she would need to weed out some of Lucrezia’s people. Instead of hiring new staff to fill those positions, she intended to outsource the work to the Ragione Tailor Shop—or rather, Ragione Linens.

“The profit margin per item will be lower, but this is a completely new market. Secure the de Mare family as a regular client and try to break into other noble households. I can even make a few introductions. I think this line of work would be a better fit for the Marini family than a tailor shop.”

She rose from her seat in the Ragione Tailor Shop’s shabby VIP room and put on her coat.

“Contact me when you’ve made up your mind.”

A positive reply from Mrs. Marini arrived the very next evening.

***

These days, Isabella would wake up late, grumble her way to the girls’ drawing room, and settle in to read ‘The Book of the City of Ladies.’ It was a collection of biographies of great women from history, an 800-page tome detailing their noble deeds, their benevolence, the marks they left on history, how one should live, and whether the virtues of a woman were the same as or different from those a man should uphold. Isabella had tried to wheedle her way out of it with Cardinal de Mare, but his threat of making her transcribe the entire book if she didn’t want to write a report quieted her down. She now read with a string of curses on her lips. Ever since being shocked by Ariadne’s scolding, Isabella had been diligently practicing her swearing. What she was learning from the act of cursing with her mouth while reading a book on cultivating proper virtues with her eyes was questionable, but at the very least, the book report had the effect of keeping her confined to the drawing room for half the day.

It was Arabella who was having the time of her life. While Isabella was buried in the drawing room on the second floor, Arabella, like a fish in water, rummaged through Isabella’s belongings. Isabella had so many fascinating things. Her vanity was especially noteworthy. It was filled not only with all sorts of cosmetics but also with bizarre tools. Today, what Arabella discovered was a partial wig.

“This is insane!”

To make her hair look fuller, Isabella would weave blonde human hair into sections about a finger’s width and attach them at the roots. Since Arabella’s hair was the exact same color as Isabella’s, the partial wig made for her sister fit Arabella as if it were custom-made for her. The base of the hairpiece had a metal clasp that, despite its rigid appearance, bent and straightened easily.

“Hmm, this is interesting.”

After bending and straightening the silver metal clasp a couple of times to get the hang of it, Arabella attached all of Isabella’s hairpieces to her head. She admired her reflection in the mirror, her hair now puffed up like a mop, and hummed a cheerful tune. It was a curious object—it looked solid, but was actually very pliable to the touch.

While Isabella suffered under the weight of biographies, Arabella played to her heart’s content. She then carefully detached Isabella’s hairpieces, put them back exactly where she found them, and, having committed the perfect crime, sauntered out of Isabella’s room.

***

In the past few days, an enormous number of letters had arrived at the de Mare estate. The majority were pleading letters sent to Lucrezia from various members of the de Rossi family.

The first to arrive was a letter of protest from Zanobi’s father, Stefano, regarding his son’s punishment. Having been whipped forty times and his tendons severed, Zanobi was in no state to travel. Yet he had been sent to the southernmost region on a single pony. It was a miracle he had even made it back alive. The infection, primarily in his buttocks from sitting on the horse after being whipped, had been severe, preventing even wounds that should have healed from doing so. It seemed he had truly become a disabled cripple.

A letter came from Lucrezia’s eldest sister, demanding to know why her living expenses had not arrived. After that, a pleading letter arrived from Lucrezia’s elderly mother. At first, she asked if Lucrezia felt no pity for Zanobi and demanded she buy him a village so he could support himself. Soon, however, the content shifted to her begging for her own living expenses, claiming they didn’t have a single potato to eat.

About three weeks later, a curse-filled letter finally came from Lucrezia’s old father. He called her an ungrateful wretch for abandoning her family and damned her to burn in the ninth and deepest circle of hell, the circle of traitors, telling her to enjoy her life of gluttony alone.

Judging by the frequency of the letters, the de Rossi family had no savings whatsoever. It remained to be seen how long Lucrezia could hold out.

The letters Ariadne received were of a more cheerful nature.

Count Cesare sent his customary red roses, along with a silver-decorated letter asking if everything had been resolved, and a finely crafted deer leather saddle. A note was attached: ‘Since someone broke my arm, I won’t be able to rescue you for two months. In the meantime, use a good saddle so your foot doesn’t get caught in the stirrup.’

`…And if my face is scarred, you'll have to take responsibility for me. - Count Cesare de Como.`

Ariadne gave a wry smile and instructed a servant to accept the saddle. The servant’s eyes widened at her initial acceptance. It was proper etiquette to send a gift in return for one received. Ariadne had Sancha find an ointment said to be a miracle cure for scars and sent it by messenger.

`To Count de Como, This is a highly effective scar treatment. I wish you a speedy recovery. Please find a nice lady with that pretty face of yours and build a happy family. - Sincerely, Ariadne de Mare.`

It was the first reply Ariadne had sent to Cesare in this life.

The letter Ariadne had been anxiously awaiting finally arrived the day after the hunting competition. It was from Prince Alfonso, who couldn’t stop himself from writing after hearing about the accident.

`My dearest Ariadne, I am very sorry to hear about the incident at the hunting competition. You aren't hurt, are you? I was greatly disappointed that my father applied the charge of property damage instead of attempted murder, resulting in a mere whipping. I believe Etruscan should have shown its strength, even with the Gallico delegation watching. And I cannot deny that my own personal feelings are involved in my dissatisfaction with the lenient punishment for the criminal. Once again, you aren't hurt, are you?`

King Leo III, in seeking a clever move that would allow him to maintain his merciful reputation and avoid conflict with Cardinal de Mare while simultaneously neutralizing Zanobi, had instead made a poor one. In San Carlo, public opinion was divided between criticism that Leo III had been too lenient with Zanobi de Rossi and that he had been too harsh in blocking a knighthood over shooting at a mere girl. His ambiguous stance, favoring no one, was the cause. When a ruler fails to be decisive when necessary, all sorts of opinions boil over, and people freely express them according to the mood.

Even his own son was displeased with his father’s handling of the matter. For a crown prince to comment on his father’s statecraft was a very delicate affair. Politically, it was either a bold gambit or a terrible mistake. Had Queen Marguerite seen it, she would have torn the letter to shreds and thrown it in the fireplace. But Alfonso had already crossed a line just by writing the letter. Having done it once, there was no reason he couldn’t do it twice. Before Ariadne, his guard was always down.

The prince’s letter continued. His handwriting was uninhibited.

`There will be a masquerade ball at the palace at the end of October. I was so disappointed we couldn't meet separately at the hunting competition. I hope that once you've recovered from the shock, you will come to the ball. Let's catch up on everything then. I miss you. It has been too long.`

His mother had told him to refrain from meeting her in public. A masquerade ball was the perfect opportunity to meet without being noticed. He had forgotten his mother’s admonition not to write at all. He believed he was the only one with feelings for Ariadne. That bold and resolute girl would never even imagine such a thing. She had to be that way.

`In mid-November, it seems the entire court will be leaving for the southern winter palace. All the court nobles will go, but I asked around and was told the Cardinal’s family has never joined before due to diocesan duties. It would be wonderful if you could come. The palace in Taranto is lush with green even in winter, and the sun is warm. The slightly dry air, tinged with the scent of the sea, is very different from San Carlo. It is a small but beautiful palace. I truly want to show it to you. Please take care of yourself. Your health is the most important thing. - With concern, Alfonso.`

Compared to the short notes they had exchanged so far, this was a very long letter. The firmly pressed script and the ink blots between the lines suggested he had written it with great deliberation. After the phrases ‘I miss you. It has been too long,’ and ‘I truly want to show it to you,’ written with a thick nib in a slightly messy hand, there was a smudge of blue ink, as if he had started to write something else and then stopped. It was the complete opposite of Count Cesare’s letter, which was written in an effortlessly elegant, almost machine-printed script.

Ariadne stared at Alfonso’s letter with a fluttering heart.

‘What is this, really.’

What was this single piece of paper that she had waited for with such a bated breath?