Chapter 72

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Isabella's Karma
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“Where is that wretched girl, Isabella!”

The furious Cardinal de Mare began searching for Isabella the moment he entered the ground-floor hall. When the butler, Niccolo, scurried upstairs to fetch Lady Isabella, Cardinal de Mare, finding even this display frustrating, roared and stopped him.

“Enough! I’ll go myself!”

Startled by the rare commotion, the family followed the enraged patriarch with wide, rabbit-like eyes. Lucrezia, fidgeting nervously without a clue as to what was happening, and Ariadne, who followed her father wondering what this unexpected drama was all about, were both part of the procession. He stomped his way over and flung open his eldest daughter's door without knocking. Isabella, of all times, was in the middle of changing her clothes.

“Oh, my!”

Clad only in her petticoat, Isabella shrieked and crossed her arms to cover her torso. Cardinal de Mare, ever the fine clergyman despite her being his own daughter, flinched and took a step back. But something was strange. If she was only in her petticoat, her upper body should have been bare. Yet his daughter was clearly wearing something of a deep pink hue on her torso. It was neither indoor wear nor a nightgown, nor was it the undergarments one wore for warmth. In fact, it wasn’t nearly cold enough for such things. He squinted, unsure, and glared at the deep pink object until he suddenly realized its purpose. His jaw dropped.

“What were you thinking, what were you… That… that…! You shameless…!”

Cardinal de Mare was on the verge of collapsing from high blood pressure. To think that his precious, fairy-like eldest daughter, whom he had raised with such care, had been parading all over San Carlo with a lewd item on her chest—an item that no one but a courtesan, no, a bottom-of-the-barrel street courtesan, would ever wear!

“What in the world are you trying to do!”

He irritably gestured with his eyes to the maidservant attending nearby. Maletta, catching his meaning, rushed over with a robe for Isabella to cover herself with.

“Are you a courtesan? Or some infidel from the Moorish Empire! Can the rumors circulating in society truly be real?”

Isabella, struck by this bolt from the blue, looked around and protested to her father.

“Father, why did you barge in without a word! Rumors? What rumors?”

Just then, the Cardinal’s eyes fell upon a tiara decorated with pink sapphires resting on Isabella’s vanity. It looked terribly expensive, but he had never bought his daughter such a thing.

“…And what is that.”

Cardinal de Mare picked up the pink sapphire tiara and turned it over. An inscription was engraved on the inside. 「From O. Contarini, to dear I. Mare.」

“What in the world is this?”

Whether due to his aging eyes or a simple unwillingness to read it, the letters were difficult to make out. Arabella, standing behind him, quickly took the tiara and, with her youthful, bright eyes, read it aloud, delivering the final blow.

“O. Contarini? As in Ottavio de Contarini?”

Arabella’s question and Cardinal de Mare’s cry came out at the same time.

“What’s his name doing here?”

“Why is a tiara from that scoundrel in your room!”

* * *

Besides relaying the rumors about Marquis Campa, the Marquis Valdesar had also tipped him off about a few other aspects of Isabella’s reputation in society.

“Your Excellency. Though he may not be a man worth your concern, Baron Castiglione is holding a grudge against your eldest daughter.”

“What? Why would that man have a problem with my daughter?”

Baron Castiglione was an up-and-coming entrepreneur who ran a large sericulture business in the capital and the north-central region. A middle-aged man who focused on wholesale, he seemed to have no conceivable connection to Isabella.

“Baron Castiglione’s eldest daughter is quite the beauty, is she not.”

“She is. So I’ve heard.”

Camelia, was it? He had heard the Baron had a pretty daughter, though not quite on Isabella’s level.

“The Baron’s dream was to form a marital alliance with an old noble family that possessed a fief. As it happens, the eldest son of the Contarini house is famous for only caring about a woman’s looks. So, Baron Castiglione spent a great deal of money and promised a hefty dowry to secure an engagement with the eldest son of the Contarini family.”

“And…?”

Cardinal de Mare grew increasingly anxious. *No, it can’t be. It has nothing to do with my daughter.*

“But then… your daughter…”

After hearing the rest of the story, a long sigh escaped Cardinal de Mare’s lips.

“…Dear God.”

* * *

Cardinal de Mare, who knew full well that society gossip could create smoke where there was no fire and who still had a sliver of faith left in his own daughter’s virtue, felt his reason snap upon witnessing the physical evidence before his very eyes.

“…Oh, my head.”

Even seeing the Cardinal clutch the back of his neck, Isabella, far from showing any remorse, simply stared at her father with wide, round eyes.

“What is it, Father?”

At this, Cardinal de Mare could no longer contain himself and raised his voice.

“Just what has become of your conduct! Do you even think before you act? Why on earth would you accept such an expensive gift from a man you are not related to!”

“I didn’t ask for it! Signor Ottavio gave it to me as a birthday gift between friends. Why does that reflect on my conduct?”

“Friends do not give each other such gifts!”

As if his daughter’s lack of sense was about to split his head open, another object caught Cardinal de Mare’s eye.

“And what is this.”

It was a diamond ring that looked to be at least three carats. As her father stared at the ring on the vanity shelf, little Arabella scampered over, picked it up, and placed it in his hand. With its classic design, precious materials, and exquisite craftsmanship, it could have passed for a wedding ring.

“Ah. That was a gift from Sir Iacopo, a new acquaintance, to thank me for showing him the way…”

“Where on earth would you have occasion to give directions to a man you are not related to!”

Cardinal de Mare was truly shocked. He had never, ever let his cherished eldest daughter wander about freely.

“At the San Ercole Grand Cathedral. He said he was lost, so I showed him the way.”

Cardinal de Mare let out a sigh of disbelief.

“What kind of person in San Carlo gets lost inside the San Ercole Grand Cathedral, of all places!”

The San Ercole Grand Cathedral had a very simple structure, with a long, straight nave and bays attached to either side. It was a place every resident of San Carlo had frequented weekly since they were infants. Iacopo Attendolo was the son of the Attendolo family, natives of San Carlo for five generations. He had likely been baptized there as an infant and had spent the last twenty-odd years crawling, walking, and running through the San Ercole Grand Cathedral every Sunday.

“And who on earth gives someone a diamond ring just for giving them directions!”

Isabella seemed completely oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

“Because I was exceptionally kind and helpful with my directions.”

Cardinal de Mare truly felt like dissecting his own daughter’s head to see what was inside.

“Do you have any intention of marrying Iacopo Attendolo?”

Iacopo was a mediocre knight from a decent family, but he was the second son, unable to inherit the family title. He was nowhere near meeting Isabella’s sky-high standards. And just as expected, Isabella recoiled.

“Father, how can you say something so dreadful? Ab-so-lute-ly not!”

“Because of your foolish behavior, Iacopo Attendolo might just be the best match you can get right now!”

“What? What did you say?”

Isabella de Mare had been aiming for Prince Alfonso at best, and Count Cesare at worst. Iacopo Attendolo? What kind of horrid joke was this?

“A rumor is circulating in society that you are Marquis Campa’s mistress.”

“Whaaaat?”

Isabella dropped the perfume bottle she was holding. The thick Porto glass rolled across the floor with a dull thud.

“Please. Don’t tell me that was also a gift from another man. And shouldn’t you be grateful for someone like Iacopo Attendolo? If the rumor about you being Marquis Campa’s mistress becomes accepted as fact, do you think even he would be a possibility?”

Cardinal de Mare was a peculiar man. Even in this situation, he did not ask his daughter, ‘Are you truly Marquis Campa’s mistress?’ It was a starkly pragmatic attitude, utterly unbecoming of a clergyman, revealing a man interested not in the immoral act itself, but only in the unfortunate consequences it brought. However, covering up a real transgression and clearing one's name from a false accusation required entirely different approaches. So, Ariadne decided to point that out, for good measure. It was certainly not to expose her sister’s shame.

“So, was it really you in the garden with Marquis Campa, Isabella?”

She decided to add a bit of dramatic flair. Ariadne bit her lip, her voice trembling slightly.

“…Don’t tell me you were the one involved with the Marquis, and yet you kept your mouth shut and didn’t say a single word to help when I was being accused of being his mistress?”

A look of shock crossed Cardinal de Mare’s face. He was the kind of leader who most detested infighting within his own team. It was something he, as a father, had always stressed. *Get along with each other. Please.*

“Absolutely not!”

Isabella denied it vehemently, but Ariadne had heard things from her new friends in society.

“You were at the scene of Marquis Campa’s tryst from the very beginning. Even Baron and Baroness Dapiani said you were already there when they arrived.”

Baron and Baroness Dapiani were the couple known to have first discovered Marquis Campa.

“If you weren’t the one meeting him, then why on earth didn’t you scream?”

Isabella was speechless. For a moment, she considered confessing what had actually happened. The truth was this: while Isabella was hiding in the bushes, Baron and Baroness Dapiani had arrived and discovered Marquis Campa. The Baroness had screamed first upon seeing him, and Isabella had remained quiet until she was pushed aside by the fleeing woman. But to tell this version of the truth, she would have to admit that she ‘was hiding in the bushes, quietly enjoying the show, until the Baron and Baroness arrived.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say that, even if her mouth were torn open.

“Th-that is…”

Isabella’s eyes darted about nervously for a moment. But she quickly settled on a line of defense. When at a loss for words, playing the victim was always the best strategy.

“I was so shocked, so utterly shocked, that’s why.”

Isabella decided to appeal not to Ariadne, on whom it would have no effect, but to her father, who might be swayed by emotion.

“I had never in my life imagined seeing a man and woman in such a state, so I just froze!”

Unfortunately, the pink breast covering peeking out from her robe undermined the credibility of her statement. But Isabella brazenly pushed forward with her story.

“Is it my fault I couldn’t do anything? I was just a passerby. Was I supposed to do something?”

But Cardinal de Mare pointed out something Isabella had completely overlooked.

“If you were there and saw what was happening, you should have helped your younger sister when she was in trouble!”

Isabella bit her lip. But she had a way out of this, too.

“I’m sorry, Ariadne!”

With her enchanting features, as if crafted by a snow fairy’s magic, she put on a pitiful expression and apologized in a voice as sweet as a nightingale’s.

“I was so scared, I couldn’t muster the courage. I sincerely apologize, alright?”

There was a drama to Isabella’s features. Her furrowed brow conveyed anguish, and her trembling lips, sorrow. She turned to Cardinal de Mare with a look of sincere repentance.

“I’m sorry, Father. I acted in a way most unbecoming of an older sister. I truly repent. I will spend my life making it up to her!”

Bowing her head, Isabella rode the wave of the mood and passionately asserted her innocence.

“But I swear to God, I am not Marquis Campa’s mistress!”

The atmosphere was beginning to shift. Lucrezia was ready to believe her, and even Cardinal de Mare’s expression was softening. Just as Isabella was about to deliver the final blow with, ‘I don’t care what others think, but you have to believe me, Father,’ a loud ‘clang’ echoed through the room. The entire family turned to the source of the sound. There stood Arabella, doing what she did best, as always: rummaging through Isabella’s belongings. She had been rustling around the vanity ever since handing her father the diamond ring. In Arabella’s hand was Isabella’s handbag, and the ‘clang’ had been the sound of a crimson, marquise-cut ruby tumbling out of it and landing on a silver tray on the vanity. The large red ruby shone bewitchingly.