Chapter 91

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: A Partial Victory
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“What… is this?”

Though he already knew, Cardinal de Mare had to ask. Ariadne answered in a clear voice.

“It's a ledger. A double-ledger, to be precise.”

She opened the first ledger to the relevant page. It was the household account book she had taken over from Lucrezia.

“Father, this is the ledger Mother kept. Here is the transaction record for September of 1122. It's the statement of accounts with Ragione Tailors.”

This was from just before Lucrezia lost some of her authority over the ledgers due to the incident with her nephew, Zanobi, at the hunting competition. That was the last time Lucrezia could wield the family's finances as she pleased. The amount paid to Ragione Tailors for Lucrezia's own clothes and those of her two daughters was recorded in the ledger as seventy gold ducats.

“Mother and my sister Isabella do not wear clothes from Ragione Tailors.”

They don't carry a single garment that costs more than ten ducats. Far too inexpensive for them to wear, Ariadne added.

“But now, let's look at the statement from Ragione Tailors.”

The thin second book Ariadne handed him was the statement prepared by Ragione Tailors themselves. According to their records, Ragione Tailors did indeed receive seventy ducats from Lucrezia. But after deducting the cost of fabric, labor, and workshop rent, and after taking their 15% profit, a peculiar entry was attached to the remaining sum. 「Rebate: 48 ducats. To Lady Lucrezia de Rossi.」

“Where could all that money have gone?”

Cardinal de Mare's hands trembled as he held the ledgers. He didn't need to ask to know the answer. His precious forty-eight gold ducats would have been squandered on luxuries for the foolish, indolent scum of his wife's family, the Rossi family of Taranto, whom Cardinal de Mare despised so terribly.

“Lu-cre-zia!!!!”

Glaring at Lucrezia, who trembled with her head buried between her shoulders like an ostrich, Cardinal de Mare slammed the ledger shut with a *thump!* Ariadne delivered the final blow.

“Father, I am someone who understands that with authority comes responsibility. You must be aware that since I took over the household accounts, our average monthly expenditure has decreased by over thirty percent. And this is despite winter being a season when expenses for firewood and provisions are higher than usual. It seems Mother does not understand that authority and responsibility go hand in hand, nor whose family it is that she is supposed to be protecting.”

She glanced at Lucrezia and added.

“Please do not think me unfilial. When my brother Ippolito insisted that Mother be brought back from the Bergamo farm, I was the first to raise my hands in welcome. I know better than anyone how difficult and cold life on the Bergamo farm is in winter. It is my hope to attend to Mother with the utmost sincerity. But the ledgers are another matter.”

Ariadne's gaze, as she looked down at Lucrezia, was as deep and still as a lake. She turned her eyes to Cardinal de Mare.

“The decision of who to entrust the ledgers to is yours, Father. This family's money was earned through your blood and sweat…”

Ariadne didn't believe a single word of it, but she added the necessary phrases to persuade her father. Her low voice carried a strange persuasive power, convincing not only her listeners but sometimes even herself.

“…It is the family's fortune, which must be passed down to my brother, Ippolito, whole and intact. Should it not be handed over in good condition?”

The final words struck a chord with Cardinal de Mare. Yes, the de Mare family. He had worked himself to the bone for the past twenty-five years to establish the de Mare family. His wish was for ‘de Mare’ to become a distinguished noble family in San Carlo, one that could present its name with pride anywhere. Lucrezia, it seemed, lacked the judgment to be its rightful mistress. He addressed his heir in a measured tone.

“Ippolito, we will forget this talk of returning the mistress's seal to your mother. In consideration of her being your, Isabella's, and Arabella's mother, I will permit her return to San Carlo.”

Ariadne clicked her tongue inwardly. She had hoped to banish Lucrezia to the Bergamo farm for good. It seemed one or two attacks were not enough to overcome a history of twenty-two—no, twenty-three—years of living together. But time, in the end, would be on her side. It always had been.

“Live as quietly as a mouse, Lucrezia.”

He glared at the mother of his children with blazing eyes. Lucrezia, dressed in shabby clothes, could only bow her head. She was getting off easy. One must not defy the Cardinal. Lucrezia knew this from long experience.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

Cardinal de Mare had once thought his love had faded. He used to feel a pang in his heart whenever he saw Lucrezia in a worn-out dress. As the head of the family, it was shameful for his wife and children, who trusted him, to be poorly dressed and fed. But now, he was overcome with irritation, thinking of how much that wench must have funneled to her family to be left with nothing but such rags for herself. He wasn't one to meddle in trivial women's affairs like who used which room, but he couldn't help but instruct Ariadne.

“Give Lucrezia the guest room on the first floor, not the master bedroom in the east wing on the second floor that she used to occupy.”

At the Cardinal's words, Lucrezia looked at him with an expression of utter devastation. But the Cardinal turned his head, avoiding her gaze. Instead, Isabella took the despairing Lucrezia's hand. She whispered quietly in her mother's ear.

- “Mother, it's alright. The important thing is that you're back.”

With a desolate heart, Lucrezia could only nod at her eldest daughter's comfort.

“Ariadne. Continue your hard work with the ledgers. And respect your mother.”

Those words offered Lucrezia a sliver of comfort. Ariadne reverted to the role of the compliant second daughter and bowed her head.

“I will take special care.”

Finally, Cardinal de Mare looked at Ippolito.

“Ippolito de Mare.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You need to learn restraint and patience!”

Ippolito clenched his teeth as he bowed his head. *Damn that bastard sister. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be getting scolded.*

“While you're in San Carlo, keep a proper eye on your mother! I will be watching you closely!”

“As you wish, Father.”

Ippolito's reply, at least, was crisp. Isabella and Arabella received no particular attention. Isabella seemed relieved to have escaped the Cardinal's notice, as she would have heard nothing but lectures and reproaches, but Arabella looked anxious, having been unable to even make eye contact with her mother. Cardinal de Mare put down his knife without finishing even half of the main course, roasted pheasant.

“Some birthday feast this is, tch!”

He looked deeply displeased. So much so that it seemed he might just banish Lucrezia back to the Bergamo farm. Isabella, reading her father's mood, gestured to her brother with her eyes.

“What?”

But Ippolito was hopelessly dense. Isabella had to spell it out for him.

- “Take Father up to his drawing room and have a drink with him! He looks upset!”

Ippolito bristled.

‘My younger sister, ordering me around like this!’

Besides, he had just been scolded by the Cardinal and was reluctant to bring up the topic of his graduation certificate again. He was not keen on drinking alone with his father. But after his sister, his mother also gave him a pointed look.

- “The eldest son should be taking care of these things! Hurry and escort him upstairs, Ippolito!”

A wave of irritation washed over Ippolito.

‘Son, son! The things I have to do just because I'm a man. This is disgusting!’

Under the pressure from his mother and sister, he had no choice but to play the part of the dutiful eldest son and soothe his father's temper.

“Father, it seems you've lost your appetite. Shall we go upstairs for a glass of grappa? I brought a fine bottle with me from Padua.”

Cardinal de Mare was eager to leave the table, so when his son offered a way to placate him, he decided to go along. Besides, it was a night that called for a drink.

“Very well. Let's go up.”

Ippolito issued an order to Ariadne as if she were a servant.

“You, send up a cheese plate and some green olives. Pitted.”

His tone was that of someone taking revenge for failing to reclaim authority over the household. *Well, I won, so I can indulge his little tantrum.* Ariadne simply offered an elegant nod.

“Sancha. You heard the Young Master. Tell the chef to prepare it and send it up immediately.”

“Yes, my lady!”

Outwardly, she showed no reaction, but inwardly she felt a bitter sting. Ippolito, simply by virtue of being the eldest son, could obtain a private audience with Cardinal de Mare as easily as breathing—an opportunity Ariadne could only secure when she had specific business. *Should I take up drinking spirits as a hobby?* Ariadne thought with a faint smile. The sight of the Cardinal and his daughter sitting opposite each other, dead drunk, would certainly be amusing. *Then again, what in this household isn't absurd?* Cardinal de Mare and Ippolito went up together to the Cardinal's drawing room on the second floor. As soon as the person she needed to impress was gone, Lucrezia, feeling awkward sitting face to face with Ariadne, rose from her seat.

“Mother, I shall show you to your room.”

Lucrezia shot Ariadne a glare and flicked her sleeve.

“I don't need you. I know the layout of this damn house better than anyone.”

Ariadne didn't insist, maintaining a gentle expression as she informed her softly.

“Then I'll remind you that your new room is the one by the entrance on the first floor, not the one you used to occupy.”

Lucrezia's face flushed red and pale. Ariadne chose a servant to escort Lucrezia to her room. Though there were several menservants and maids, Ariadne deliberately singled one out.

“Maletta.”

Maletta, who never dreamed she would be called, answered with a start.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Escort Mother to the room by the entrance on the first floor.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Maletta approached Lucrezia to guide her. But Lucrezia's expression was ominous. With a demonic look, she brought her face close to Maletta's and hissed in her ear. To Maletta, her voice sounded like thunder.

“You, what did you do to my son? You'd better prepare yourself. I'll be watching you with both eyes wide open.”

Unable to contain her fury, Lucrezia reached out and pinched Maletta's ear.

“And what are all these trinkets you're wearing, for a mere maid? Take them off at once and change into clothes befitting your station!”

It seemed she had decided to vent her anger towards Ariadne on Maletta.

‘That's our Lucrezia, alright.’

Ariadne clicked her tongue inwardly, watching as Lucrezia behaved exactly as she had predicted. In contrast, a stunned Sancha barely managed to suppress a smile by biting her lip. When her lady had offered Maletta the position of Young Master Ippolito's personal attendant, she had wondered if her mistress had achieved nirvana after being called a saint so often, but Lady Ariadne was always two or three steps ahead.

‘So reliable. That's my lady, alright.’

After Lucrezia and Maletta left, Isabella and Arabella remained. Lucrezia had shown little interest in Arabella until the very end. Arabella had to watch her mother, whom she had just seen for the first time in nearly a hundred days, leave the dining hall without having exchanged a single word. Ariadne came up from behind and hugged Arabella, who was staring at Lucrezia's retreating back with a solemn expression. Arabella wiggled her small hand up and intertwined her fingers with Ariadne's. Isabella noticed this and sneered at Arabella.

“You really switched sides while Mother was exiled and I was locked up, didn't you?”

“What…?”

“You little traitor. You couldn't even wait.”

Unable to watch any longer, Ariadne intervened.

“Sister, stop picking on a child and go upstairs.”

Isabella raked Ariadne up and down with eyes full of burning hatred.

“You've gotten awfully arrogant, haven't you, playing around with the prince? But wake up. Do you really think a royal of San Carlo would ever belong to a bastard like you?”

She was seething with venom. The downcast eyes she had when she first entered the dining hall must have been a mask she wore for fear of running into their father.

‘That's our Isabella, alright.’

Ariadne firmly announced that the party was over.

“Isabella de Mare, whether I see the prince or not doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be tormenting Arabella. If you don't want to go husband-hunting next season in last year's dress because you can't afford a new one, you'd best shut your mouth.”

“Are you threatening me? See, your true colors are showing…!”

“If you want to marry a decent man with that reputation of yours, you should worry about your own nature first. If you can't fix it, you're headed for a convent.”

To the trembling Isabella, Ariadne commanded with a jerk of her chin.

“Go on up.”

“You!”

At that moment, Sancha and the other head maids stepped forward.

“Lady Isabella. You must go upstairs.”

Isabella lashed out at the maids. Her first target was Sancha.

“You, Ariadne's personal maid, strutting around in clothes like that! Have you no sense of your place?”

But the other head maids supported Sancha.

“Lady Isabella, please go upstairs.”

“You shouldn't be doing this here.”

“Teresa, Luigina…! You too!”

Teresa and Luigina were the head of the cleaning maids and the head of the scullery maids, respectively. They were competing for the position of head maid and needed a good evaluation from Sancha. As the maids prepared to drag her away, Isabella, not wanting to cause a scene on her first day back, had no choice but to go upstairs.

“Just you wait…!”

It had been an eventful day. Ariadne let out a deep sigh.