To the Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Garden of Snow Deer

It takes about a week on average by carriage from Swinton to Rochefolley. The farther north they traveled, the more often snow or ice on the roads, or the slush formed by melting under the sunlight, became a hindrance, so Deirdre’s journey took a day longer than usual.

To alleviate the tedium of the carriage ride, she brought a book recommended by her friends. The ladies of Swinton enjoyed dramatic and erotic romance novels. Among those, The Countess’s Second Broken Engagement, the latest work by the sensational “Madam P,” was the one she had brought along.

However, before she could even open the book, she unexpectedly gained a companion. That companion was none other than the heroine of that engagement, Lady Rosina Campbell.

Not long after leaving Swinton, a carriage bearing the Campbell family crest caught up beside the Fairchild carriage. When Deirdre caught a glimpse of Rosina’s golden hair through the frost-covered window, she was startled.

“Lady Rochefolley! If you don’t mind, may I accompany you? I’m headed to Randike.”

Rosina was accompanied by her chaperone aunt, a maid, guards, and, of course, her coachman.

The marquis’s daughter, who should have been trailing behind her mother, receiving congratulations for her engagement to Lord Jonas Cotnam, was suddenly headed to her hometown instead. Upon closer inspection, Rosina’s eyes were red and swollen, her tears not yet subsided. Something had clearly gone wrong with the engagement.

What a lovestruck girl urgently needed wasn’t anything but someone to whom she could pour out her troubles, so Deirdre figured that Rosina would soon open up without any prompting.

She gladly invited the marquis’s daughter and her chaperone into the carriage.

Rosina’s aunt had a knitting project on her lap. When Deirdre gave a discreet signal to the back, the perceptive maid quickly understood her mistress’s intention and adjusted the flame of the indoor lamp at the right moment.

The carriage interior visibly darkened.

“Oh my, I must be getting old. Why is my eyesight getting so poor?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Madam. It’s a new carriage, but the lights keep acting up.”

At Deirdre’s apology, the old lady looked around the interior as if searching for more faults.

The Fairchild family changed carriages once a year, upgrading the interior decor and amenities each time. This carriage was decorated with green velvet and mahogany, with double-layered walls to keep the warm air heated by the brazier from escaping. There was even a small sink connected to a water tank, allowing them to wash up inside.

Despite all this, the basic feature of lighting seemed to have a problem. Deirdre could see that the old lady was eager to criticize her carriage.

“Bright lighting is essential for a long carriage journey. Lady Rochefolley, you’re so young that you probably don’t understand the importance of proper lighting. Our carriage may not have running water, but the lighting is bright, I assure you. A faucet in a carriage, goodness…”

In fact, that faucet had been installed because the meticulous Earl of Fairchild insisted on shaving, even in the carriage.

Rosina quickly intervened. “Auntie, perhaps you should move to our carriage. You could share your thoughts on household management with Butler Kingsley. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Charles Kingsley, the Fairchild family’s experienced butler who had once served as the head of the Antwerp Butlers Association, was the epitome of a perfect butler, highly sought after by the elderly ladies.

Even Deirdre was always amazed by Kingsley’s ability to serve boiling tea without spilling a single drop through a running carriage window.

The moment the old lady moved to the Campbell family carriage, Rosina grasped Deirdre’s hand with her cold fingers.

“Oh, it’s awful… Lady Rochefolley.”

Deirdre silently dabbed at the marquis’s daughter’s eyes with her handkerchief. Just as she expected, without any prompting, a flood of stories spilled from Rosina’s lips.

As Deirdre listened, she could hardly contain her surprise. That quiet Rosina had a boyfriend even before her debut in society! And he had been arrested as a political prisoner, only to be recently freed by the “White Rose Brigade,” and he was none other than the eldest son of Viscount Denel.

“How did you meet Viscount Denel…?”

“When he came to Randike before…”

The story that Rosina went on to tell also had connections to Fairchild. Viscount Denel was an old classmate of Frederick’s from the Royal Academy, and using that as an excuse, he had come to ask if his old friend could provide timber from Rochefolley Forest at a cheaper price. That was when he stopped by Randike. The young viscount fell for the beautiful young lady of that house right away.

“So, Lady Rosina, what do you want to do?”

“I want to meet him. No, he’s coming to meet me. I’m sure of it.”

Oh dear.

Deirdre suppressed a sigh.

If Viscount Denel truly cared for his beloved’s happiness, he should either cross the northern border into Ruska or board a ship across the ocean and leave the kingdom for good.

Though Deirdre didn’t know much about Rosina’s fiancé, Jonas Cotnam, she knew well about his brother, Lysander Cotnam. He was a handsome, capable, and ambitious soldier.

Captain Cotnam had once thrown himself before a wolf attack during a hunt to save Christian’s life. That incident led Christian to take a particular interest in him. If anyone other than Lysander had let Viscount Denel slip away this time, they wouldn’t have gotten off with mere probation.

In truth, Deirdre did not have a favorable impression of Lysander Cotnam.

‘Even so… Rosina’s engagement shouldn’t be broken because of Viscount Denel.’

As if reading her thoughts, the marquis’s daughter looked even gloomier, her green eyes clouded.

“Ah, so you also think I should marry Lord Jonas Cotnam, Lady Rochefolley? Even though his brother imprisoned Viscount Denel?”

“If you truly don’t want to marry him, you can break the engagement. It’s still early enough that it’s acceptable for a lady to change her mind. But even if you do, you still can’t marry Viscount Denel. Lord Randike will just find another suitor for you.”

“Even if I love him and he loves me…?”

Tears welled up in Rosina’s eyes again.

Oh dear.

Deirdre wasn’t heartless enough to bring up cold reality before someone who was crying like that. But in her mind, she was already answering, ‘Yes, even then.’

Rosina had no idea just how dreadful it would be to become a criminal’s family.

Deirdre still remembered vividly what had happened five years ago.

The sound of military boots from the gendarmerie.

The aspen and beech forest of Aspen, silently burning in the dark.

The Haversham estate, reduced to ashes, half burned away…

Unlike Dorian, who was in the capital at that time, Deirdre had witnessed everything—her childhood home and the forest where she had played since she was a child being reduced to rubble by the gendarmerie’s assault.

And she had watched her father—who had always called her “Dear” and doted on her—collapse before the gendarmes, struck by shock.

Had someone not stopped her carriage on the way back home and pulled her out that day, Deirdre would have also been caught in the turmoil and either injured or worse. She had been seventeen, returning from an autumn festival in a neighboring village. The one who saved her was also wearing a masquerade mask.

“Do not go to the marquis’s manor now.”

“But my father is home. I have to save him…!”

All she could discern of her rescuer was his tall stature, his strength—which held her tight despite her struggles—golden hair that shone red in the firelight, and dark eyes whose color she couldn’t identify. He prevented her from rushing out of their hiding spot.

When she saw Lysander Cotnam’s reddish-golden hair and black eyes later, Deirdre naturally recalled that day. Although Lysander Cotnam wasn’t necessarily a man of such noble character.

“Lady Deirdre, the Haversham family is not as prestigious as before, so stop playing hard to get. If that pretty head of yours isn’t just for decoration, you should know you ought to bow before me and beg for a proposal.”

The charge against Marquis Haversham had been treason. Fortunately, His Majesty soon realized his “mistake” and cleared their name. Since the accusation had been deliberate, Haversham’s honor had never truly been tainted, but the dead could not be revived, nor could the burned estate be restored.

If Christian hadn’t declared Haversham’s innocence, Deirdre wouldn’t have become Countess Fairchild. Instead, she would have been stripped naked and hung in the square or fallen to the status of a commoner. She couldn’t help but shiver at the fate that might await Rosina.

‘Please, let Viscount Denel be a wise man…’

If he were wise, he wouldn’t have run an anti-government newspaper in the first place. She sighed.

A gloved hand tapped the window of the carriage. It was Kingsley.

“Lady Rochefolley. Lady Rosina. Hot chocolate is ready.”

***

As soon as Deirdre arrived at the Rochefolley estate, she was greeted by a herd of snow deer that seemed to have grown in number. Although the animals were rare across the kingdom and even designated as a protected species, Rochefolley was an exception.

She brushed aside the swarming deer and walked toward the annex. Behind her, Kingsley, flustered, called out to her.

“Lady Rochefolley, where are you going? You should head inside and warm up.”

Deirdre, stumbling through the snow that reached her ankles, gave up walking and called for her attendant.

“Rex, carry me. And Bertha, you go ahead with Kingsley.”

“Madam, the annex is still under construction—”

Kingsley tried to speak again, but Deirdre, now on Rex’s back, lightly tapped his broad shoulders.

“Take me to the annex.”

Rex and Bertha had served her since her time with the Haversham family, so they did whatever she commanded. The sturdy attendant carried the countess on his back, striding forward, while the elderly Kingsley struggled to keep up.

The annex was about a ten-minute walk through a small garden grove.

Rex set her down at the annex entrance.

Apparently, the mention of ongoing construction wasn’t a lie—all the furniture in the annex had been removed, and pipes and tiles were piled up in one corner of the empty hall.

Deirdre surveyed the surroundings with a sharp gaze.

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she started by peering into the fireplace. It, too, was spotless, without a speck of ash. The pale light of the winter afternoon shone through the glass windows, casting a weak glow on the floor.

“Madam, you’ll catch a cold like this.”

The butler appeared at the doorway, panting. His voice echoed through the hall.

Deirdre ran her fingers over the wall lamps, the wooden floor, and the picture frames. Finding nothing of interest, she moved to the small chambers.

The two small chambers were used as resting spaces during banquets. They had not been touched during the construction, so they showed little sign of alteration. Still, she meticulously checked for any changes since before she left. The couch, console, display cabinet—everything was in its place, spotless.

It was only when she approached the small sink with a lion-head faucet that she found what she was looking for.

Something glinted in the drain below.

Deirdre quickly pulled it out.

It was a necklace with a slender chain attached to a heavy pendant.

She put it in her pocket, rubbing her wet hands on her skirt, and went to the bathroom. The bathroom, with all the tiles torn up, was covered in dust and stone debris.

She looked back at the butler who had followed her.

“…Sorry. They said it was under construction, so I was curious about the progress.”

“It seems the cold snap has delayed the work. I will make sure it is completed quickly.”

Once again, she climbed onto Rex’s back and moved to the main building.

After receiving a grand welcome from the servants and listening to lengthy reports from the assistant butler and the head maid, she was finally alone. As soon as she entered her room, she took out the necklace.

The pendant, which she had thought was merely decorative, was actually a delicate locket with hinges and a ruby ornament on the cover. It wasn’t something one could buy in a shop. One side of the chain was broken, hinting at how its owner had lost it.

When she opened the lid, there was a girl’s portrait on one side and a lock of golden hair, presumably belonging to the girl, on the other.

Deirdre knew the girl in the portrait.

The name slipped from her lips.

“…Rosina.”