Clifton was not a sentimental man, certainly not one to pay heed to sleep-talking.
But her voice was so pitiful, and her eyelids fluttered as if caught in a nightmare, and for some reason, he found himself watching her.
‘It’s understandable she’d have nightmares.’ An early return from a trip she had pinned her hopes on, now seeking refuge in a place like this—it was the rebellion of a lost adolescent.
He didn’t need the details to imagine what had transpired in Belloc.
“This place, too… I hate it… and you… I hate you…”
As her muddled words got clearer, a smirk touched Clifton’s lips.
Though her eyes were closed, her muttering grew clearer, more direct, as if some part of her was consciously trying to voice the thoughts locked inside her heart.
Before long, tears welled beneath her thick lashes.
Watching them gather, Clifton spoke, his voice subdued.
“Wake up, Merdi.”
His voice wasn’t loud, yet her eyelids lifted at once.
It was a peculiar reaction, considering she hadn’t stirred at all for the panicked cries of the sheep.
As she heavily raised her damp lashes, her green eyes, clouded with moisture, struggled to focus.
The moment they did, she shot up as if she had seen a ghost.
“…Your Grace?”
“I’m relieved to see you’re not hallucinating.”
“Pardon…?”
“I was concerned the shock of learning the truth in Belloc might have driven you mad,” Clifton remarked with cool sarcasm.
A flush crept up Merdi’s face as she brushed the stray pieces of hay from her clothes.
Her eyes, still wet with tears, hardened with defiance.
“Vincent, you traitor…” she muttered.
So, the stableman’s name was Vincent.
A sneer formed on Clifton’s lips as he heard the name fall so easily from hers.
“How much longer must I remain in this unpleasant place because of you?” His voice was a low command, and the sneer vanished, replaced by a mask of cold indifference.
At his question, Merdi had no choice but to scramble down from the haystack and follow him out of the hut, leaving the startled sheep behind.
The wind that brushed against her hot cheeks felt chilling.
“If you found entering this place so unpleasant, you should have sent a servant,” she retorted.
“I should have,” he agreed, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Had someone happened to see the stableman escorting you from this hut at such a late hour, I would have been treated to a very interesting story tomorrow morning.”
The barb hit its mark.
Merdi’s glare sharpened, fierce and defiant.
Just as he said, if Vincent the stableman had come for her and been seen, she would have been plagued by scandalous rumors.
But that wasn’t what Merdi meant.
“I was talking about Emma.”
“Huh…”
“Emma would have helped me discreetly.”
‘Of course, a man like him would never know that,’ Merdi thought, a feeble jab at his ignorance.
Still, she lowered her gaze, her lips parting after a long hesitation to release a small voice.
“…Still, I apologize.
I should have reported my return to Greenfield.”
Clifton stared at her, silent.
The defiance that had flared just moments before—her challenge about why he hadn’t sent someone else if this place was so unpleasant—vanished in an instant.
As expected, her visit to Belloc had broken her spirit.
It was inevitable.
She must now understand that the sum on the promissory note bearing her brother’s name was an amount she could never repay, no matter what she did.
And yet, contrary to his expectations, seeing her so dejected brought him no satisfaction.
Was it her eyes, clouded with a despondency that seemed to run too deep?
“Let’s go back to the Annex.
If you just get the hay out of your hair, everyone will assume you simply returned late.”
Startled, Merdi’s hands flew to her hair.
But picking the stray pieces of hay from her long, wavy hair was a clumsy affair.
When she fumbled with the simple task for too long, Clifton finally reached for her.
There wasn’t much hay to begin with.
But the moment his fingertips neared the crown of her head, Merdi flinched and took a sharp step back.
He knew exactly what that evasion meant and withdrew his hand without protest.
He had ordered her to find a solution, but clearly, she had made no progress.
He had no desire to hear her retch in the middle of the night, so he didn’t force the issue with the woman who seemed incapable of improving anything.
“Be in my office tomorrow evening at eight.”
Clifton said dismissively, turning on his heel.
He had no reason to endure this irritating emotion any longer, either.
That night, Merdi slipped back into her bedroom in the Annex, unseen by anyone, and fell into an exhausted sleep.
“Lady Merdi!
You’ve returned!”
The next morning, however, she was jolted awake by Emma’s boisterous greeting.
Though the journey hadn’t been long, the stress had been immense.
She longed to recover from her travel fatigue but quickly abandoned the hope.
‘I have to pay my respects to the Grand Dame as well…’
It was her longest trip since arriving in the Elsmere Empire for her Bridal Lessons.
After such a lengthy absence, proper etiquette dictated that she pay her respects to the matriarch.
But Merdi knew the “greeting” would inevitably devolve into a scolding.
Clifton may have granted her permission to visit her hometown, but she was the one who had eagerly seized the opportunity.
The Grand Dame would undoubtedly corner her, questioning the propriety of a bride traveling so far just before her wedding.
Steeling herself, Merdi was about to swing her legs out of bed when the sound of maids sobbing drifted in from the hallway.
Merdi turned her head toward the sound.
“Emma… Did something happen while I was away?”
“You wouldn’t believe it.
Yesterday, the Grand Duke himself visited the Annex and ordered all the maids dismissed.”
‘The Grand Duke visited the Annex…?’
Merdi frowned, recalling how Clifton had come to the hut to retrieve her.
She’d been too distraught to notice at the time, but in retrospect, it was peculiar that he had come all that way to fetch her himself.
Could it be connected to this?
“Yes, I heard he came while all the maids were out picking strawberries.”
“Why?”
“Who can say?
On top of that, it seems the Grand Dame and the Grand Duke had a bit of an argument last night, but none of us know what it was about.”
‘An argument with the Grand Dame?’
In her five years here, she’d never witnessed such a thing.
But her concern wasn’t for their argument; it was for Emma.
“Are you alright, Emma?”
Emma pressed a hand to her forehead as if reliving the close call.
“Well… I was on the list to be dismissed, but he reversed the decision this morning.”
Merdi didn’t know the reason for his change of heart, but she was genuinely relieved.
“Thank goodness…!”
If Emma were to leave, Greenfield would truly become a living hell.
Her steps much lighter, Merdi sat at her vanity and began to brush her hair.
Seeing this, Emma took the brush from her and began to comb her hair for her.
Merdi blinked, looking up at her maid.
“Emma?”
“I will take care of you, My Lady, until the maids are rehired.”
“No, you have plenty of other things to do, Emma.”
As Merdi waved a hand in refusal, Emma lowered her head and spoke softly.
“Actually… I don’t know if the Grand Dame was struck by lightning or what, but she told me to take special care of you from now on.”
“…The Grand Dame did?”
The order was so unbelievable that Merdi gasped, as if hearing some bizarre rumor.
“I suppose since the wedding is soon, you’ll be part of the family, so she wants to pay more attention to you now—that must be it, right?”
Pleased by Margaret’s apparent change of heart, Emma hummed as she carefully brushed Merdi’s hair.
Merdi, however, didn’t believe a word of it.
She knew all too well what kind of person Margaret truly was.
“Also, the Grand Dame ordered that no visitors be received at Greenfield for the time being.
She said she won’t see anyone until the weekend, so we aren’t even to inform her if guests arrive.”
“Did something bad happen to her…?”
Emma tilted her head.
“I don’t know about ‘bad,’ but she looked pale, quite ill.
Still, she said not to call a doctor, so I imagine it’s just mild fatigue from the changing seasons.”
‘Perhaps,’ Merdi mused.
Having spent more time with Margaret than anyone over the past five years, she knew that when the Grand Dame locked her door, it was usually a sign of a foul mood, not a frail body.
Once again, her thoughts began to race, connecting the dots.
‘Could all of this possibly be related to him?’
And then, she allowed herself to imagine it.
She imagined Clifton stopping by the Annex by chance, discovering the negligent servants, and dismissing them all overnight.
She imagined him arguing with the Grand Dame over it, and even coming to the hut to retrieve her out of concern for his poorly treated fiancée.
It was an absurd fantasy, she knew, but the timing was so perfect that the suspicion lingered.
His words from the previous night cut through her fantasy, sharp and cruel: “I was concerned the shock of learning the truth in Belloc might have driven you mad.”
In the mirror, the corners of Merdi’s eyes drooped.
She instantly felt foolish.