Chapter 87

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: A Match Made in Heaven
-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Your Eminence! Master Ippolito has returned!”

At the news of his eldest son’s return, Cardinal de Mare, who had already retired for the night, shot up in bed. He had gone to bed early to preserve his strength, as he was to preside over the New Year’s Mass for the entire kingdom the next morning. But his eldest son had returned! Still in his nightclothes, he descended to the first floor to greet him.

“Ippolito!”

“Father!”

Ippolito embraced Cardinal de Mare with theatrical fervor, nearly crushing him. Ippolito, who stood nearly six feet tall, easily swept the diminutive Cardinal de Mare into his arms. The Cardinal, barely five feet seven, flailed his arms as his nose was pressed into his son's chest, cutting off his breath. When Ippolito belatedly realized his father was suffocating and released his hold, Cardinal de Mare cleared his throat, trying to regain his solemnity.

“Well, Ippolito. Welcome back. Did you finish your studies in Padua?”

A flicker of dismay crossed Ippolito’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Of course, Father. When it comes to studying, am I not your son? All my friends in town were constantly trailing me, begging to see my assignments.”

It was true that his friends had trailed him, though it was to pester him for free tobacco. *Still, I’m not lying,* Ippolito thought. The commotion Ippolito was making on the first floor woke the rest of the household. One by one, family members began to come downstairs. Arabella, in her nightgown and clutching a large teddy bear, stood at the top of the central staircase to greet her eldest brother. There was a notable age gap between Ippolito and Arabella, and their relationship was distant. He gave her a cursory nod before his eyes moved to the next person.

A girl with hair as black as ebony, dressed in a voluminous nightgown and wearing the golden signet of the lady of the house on her index finger, was looking down at him from the top of the stairs.

*So this is the bastard girl from Mother's letters.*

Ippolito’s brow furrowed upon spotting Ariadne. He did not greet her.

“Father! It was a long journey, and I’m tired.”

He might have been expected to say something about Lucrezia and Isabella not being there to greet him, but Ippolito made no mention of it, moving on to another topic.

“We should all be getting to bed. Is my room in order?”

Cardinal de Mare cleared his throat.

“About that…”

“Your room is in the west wing, next to the one Mother originally used,” Ariadne answered in his stead, her voice calm. It was a low, subdued tone, perhaps because of the late hour. She continued with a faint smile.

“Since Mother's room is vacant, it requires no one's attention. We've prepared the room next to hers so that you might look in on it from time to time.”

It was a transparent excuse. Ippolito was no maid; it was preposterous to think he would personally tend to Lucrezia’s room. But it was an attack that killed two birds with one stone.

“A space falls into ruin if no one tends to it, does it not?”

Ariadne now occupied Ippolito’s former room. She had preemptively blocked any complaints he might have made about giving it up or his disappointment in their father. Moreover, the forced mention of Lucrezia’s name instantly cast an awkward air between Cardinal de Mare and Ippolito, shattering the peace Ippolito had painstakingly tried to create by not even asking after his mother. Ariadne had no intention of letting the eldest son grow particularly close to Cardinal de Mare.

“Maletta.”

Just then, Maletta, the maid newly assigned to Ippolito, came running down the stairs. She had rushed down from the maids’ quarters on the third floor. Hearing that the young master had arrived, she had hastily primped and was thus a little later than the others.

“Greet the young master.”

Maletta tugged down the already low-cut bodice of her maid's uniform, adjusting the fabric to better display her cleavage as she stepped forward. With painstaking effort to appear alluring, she knelt on one knee and bowed her head to Ippolito.

“Master Ippolito. I am Maletta, newly assigned to attend you.”

Ariadne introduced Maletta with a smile.

“She was formerly Lady Isabella’s personal maid, so she is well-versed in etiquette and quick with her work. I chose her to be your personal maid for her cleverness. Should you find Maletta's service unsatisfactory in any way, please do not hesitate to let me know.”

Maletta quickly chimed in.

“I will serve you with all my heart to ensure you have no cause for complaint.”

Ippolito was less interested in Maletta’s cleverness or quickness than in other things. Her head covering was pushed back immodestly, and a few strands of her fiery red hair had escaped, trailing down her neck. Following the line of her hair, his gaze fell upon her ample cleavage. Ippolito licked his lips at the sight of Maletta’s pale skin. All thoughts of bringing up Lucrezia and Isabella vanished from his mind.

*I’ll take care of urgent matters first, get the lay of the land, and then talk to Father.*

“Fine, fine. I understand.”

As if he couldn’t be bothered, Ippolito beckoned Maletta closer with a flick of his fingers.

“You, take my bags up and unpack them in my room. Father, I’ll head up first, then.”

“Very well.”

“Sleep well.”

Flashing a good-natured grin, Ippolito followed closely behind Maletta as she struggled up to the second floor with his heavy luggage. The maid, as if she understood the young master's intentions, swayed her ample backside from side to side in an exaggerated fashion. It was good to be back at San Carlo.

***

Ippolito and Maletta hit it off in the blink of an eye. The two were rarely seen out of his room, and even when they were fulfilling their duties as master and servant, they would steal moments to flirt, hidden from view. They would exchange sly smiles while their fingers played, or secretly trace each other’s legs with their feet. Though they tried to be discreet, everyone in the household—no, not just the people, but the very furniture—knew of their affair. If you were to ask the dining table in Cardinal de Mare's residence or the horses that pulled his carriage about Ippolito and Maletta, they would tell you they knew all about it. The two were attached at the hip, as if one would die without the other. However, it seemed they had different ideas about the nature of their ‘relationship.’

“My looord.”

Ippolito responded cheerfully to Maletta’s whiny, nasal tone.

“Yes, yes, my pretty one.”

“Buy Maletta a ring.”

“Hm? What kind of ring?”

“A sparkly, biiig one. I’d like it to have a clear jewel, if possible.”

She was asking for a diamond ring. Ippolito widened his narrow, slanted eyes as much as possible, feigning an innocent expression as he looked at Maletta. He was pretending not to understand. Eventually, worn down by her incessant pleading, he bought her not a diamond ring, which would have implied a promise of marriage, but a simple decorative South Sea pearl necklace. Nevertheless, Maletta remained convinced that she would become the next lady of the house. This belief stemmed from the fact that Ippolito showered her with gold coins without a second thought.

Maletta grew bolder. Strictly speaking, Ippolito was also an illegitimate child; no matter how high his father's station, he could not inherit it. In the end, he was no different from a commoner. If he wasn’t a nobleman anyway, what was to stop him from marrying her, a commoner herself? With this logic, Maletta set her sights on the position by Ippolito’s side. As soon as she gained the young master’s favor, she became insufferably arrogant, strutting about and causing trouble with everyone in the household. The one who suffered most was Sancha.

“Why do *I* have to do this?”

Maletta jutted out her full chest and crossed her arms, looking Sancha up and down. Sancha, the acting head maid, took a deep breath at Maletta's insubordination. Steeling herself, Sancha reprimanded her.

“Maletta. What is with your tone?”

“What, does that little ‘acting head maid’ title make you think you're my superior?”

Maletta glared at Sancha. Since her promotion, Sancha had shed the gray-brown uniform worn by all the maids of the de Mare estate and now wore the black velvet vest and red outer coat reserved for the head maid and those in special positions.

“You're still just a maid. How long are you going to live like that?”

Maletta was still in the gray-brown uniform, but she had altered it to her liking. It was now made with silk, giving it a lustrous sheen.

“It's true that I'm a maid, but you are still a maid too, Maletta.”

Sancha bit her lip, glaring at Maletta in her getup that was questionably a maid’s uniform.

“And your duty as a maid is to see to Master Ippolito’s meals and clean his room. That includes taking the leftover dishes to the scullery. Why are you making the other girls do your work?”

Maletta smiled slyly, twirling a strand of her red hair that peeked out from under her carelessly worn head covering.

“If one person is busy, anyone can help out. Why are you being so rigid?”

Lately, Maletta had been acting less like a maid and more like a mistress, forgoing her head covering and letting her hair show.

“The girls who do the dishes can go and fetch them, too. I have a much more important job: attending to the young master.”

Maletta shook her chest as if to show it off.

“What can I do if the young master won't let me go?”

Even Sancha, who knew little of the affairs between men and women, understood the disgusting insinuation and her face contorted in a proper grimace. Maletta didn’t stop there, even attempting to lecture Sancha.

“Sancha, you need to think straight. Do you think Lady Ariadne's power will last forever? This house will belong to Master Ippolito in the end.”

Unable to contain her anger at Maletta’s smugness, Sancha slammed the bundle of keys she was holding onto the table.

“You! Shut that impudent mouth! I'll tell the young lady and have you thrown out for neglecting your duties!”

“Go on and try.”

Maletta flashed her usual greasy smile, then turned and walked away, swaying her hips, leaving Sancha behind. Sancha trembled with rage, but there was nothing she could do except complain to her lady. But Lady Ariadne only soothed Sancha, telling her that “now is not the time” and asking her to endure it a little longer.

“Ugh, I'm so angry!”

Indeed, with Ippolito doting on Maletta, it seemed difficult for Ariadne to dismiss her just yet. But whether Ippolito agreed with Maletta’s plans for the future was uncertain. He gifted her lavish silks, furs to ward off the cold, and even a pearl necklace completely unbefitting a maid’s station, but he never whispered of a future together. He simply showered her with gifts whenever she whined. And the money for those gifts came from his father’s purse—a purse Ariadne now controlled.

“Aria, why on earth did you only send 15 ducats this month?”

Ippolito barged into Ariadne’s study without preamble. He stood towering before her desk, looking down at his half-sister. His use of her name was brazenly familiar.

“Brother.”

Ariadne snapped the ledger she was reviewing shut and met his gaze. The late afternoon sun filled the study with a yellowish glow. The golden signet of the lady of the house on her right index finger caught the light, glinting in Ippolito’s eyes. He found the object intensely irritating. The backlighting made it difficult for him to see Ariadne’s expression.

“How much more did you think you were owed?” a cool voice asked, echoing calmly through the study.