“Mariya, are you trying to blackmail me?”

I said it at full volume, and Mariya’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my, miss, whatever do you mean? When did I ever?”

I smiled, watching Olga’s ears perk up.

Katerina’s home life had never been described in the novel. But from living it firsthand, Katerina’s position in this household was worse than that of a maid.

She had lost her mother and shut herself in her room, and not a single person had thought to check on her. Meanwhile the man who called himself her father was dragging his mistress into the house first thing in the morning.

The real Katerina might have been thoroughly beaten down by all of it. But I had no intention of quarreling or playing power games with any of them.

It was only one year, after all. In a year’s time I would either have broken free of this wretched loop or be back to yesterday morning.

“Either way, there’s no need to whisper. It was simply the baroness’s nephew escorting me home. More importantly, tell me more about that ball.”

Samsonov might know why Ivan had jumped into the river. Prying the details out of Ivan directly would be tricky, so the plan was to meet this merchant and feel him out if possible.

Sure enough, Mariya’s eyes lit up.

“You mean the ball at Samsonov’s estate? I’ve heard about it from the maids next door. Apparently the master there is so generous that he even gives the servants fine sweets and plenty of drink. And from what I hear……”

Mariya paused and gave another little cough.

“Young Master Dmitri is apparently a regular there.”

Ah, so that was the real point.

It was Olga who let out a scornful laugh.

“Where does this impertinent girl get off saying ‘Young Master Dmitri’ this and ‘Young Master Dmitri’ that? This is what happens when servants aren’t kept in line. This is precisely why a household needs a mistress!”

Mariya, of course, was not the least bit cowed.

“Quite right. If you want to go around putting on airs, you’d need to secure a proper position as mistress of some household. But I have a weak stomach, so I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to cater to old men.”

And Mariya stuck out her tongue with an expression of pure disgust. Olga’s face flushed crimson with outrage.

The old man Mariya was referring to was the master of this house, so I ought to have been offended too, but……

‘Well, he’s not really my father.’

Meanwhile Olga, unable to contain her fury, was shrieking at the other maids to bring a switch.

“What’s all this commotion first thing in the morning.”

Right on cue, master Shatov walked into the dining room.

I had been calling him an old man for convenience, but calling him that was a bit of a stretch. He was forty-five or thereabouts, and Shatov, Katerina’s father, was actually a fairly well-looking man with a full head of hair and not an ounce of a belly. Not that that made him anything other than a middle-aged man.

“Master!”

Olga cooed and rushed over to take his arm.

“You’re up early today. I do hope this Olga hasn’t disturbed your morning sleep?”

Shatov detached himself from Olga, sat down, and immediately began eating. Olga looked briefly put out, but soon returned to her seat as if nothing had happened.

For a while, the only sound in the dining room was the clinking of cutlery.

“What exactly have you been getting up to.”

It was Shatov who broke the silence.

“Are you speaking to me, Father?”

Shatov clicked his tongue instead of answering.

“That vulgar merchant was asking after you.”

“……A merchant? Don’t tell me, Samsonov?”

Could there really have been something between him and Katerina? Some kind of love that crossed social boundaries?

Either way, the best course was probably to ignore it. I had no time to deal with every stray person who came along.

It was then that a servant entered carrying a letter.

“……What’s this?”

It was an invitation.

“It’s an invitation from Samsonov’s estate, miss!”

Mariya cried out with wide eyes. Shatov’s face twisted. And no wonder, since the invitation was addressed not to him, the master of the house, but to me.

“What on earth have you been doing to make someone like that take my family name so freely in his mouth.”

The old man’s manner of speaking hadn’t changed one bit. It would certainly be easier to just humor him. But this was already the twelfth time I had to sit through this.

“Why are you asking me?”

“……What?”

“If you were curious about how someone like that dares to ask after me, you could ask him directly. Why come to me and make a scene?”

Shatov simply stared at me blankly. So did Olga. So did Mariya.

But I was already deep in thought.

‘This won’t do.’

Sending an invitation this openly meant I probably needed to attend this Russian Gatsby’s party after all. I had to find out what had happened between Samsonov and Katerina before I could either silence him or put a jealousy scheme into motion.

But how? Attending a ball even once cost hundreds of rubles, by all accounts……

‘Ah.’

I looked at Shatov, still standing there in a daze. Since things had already come to this, I might as well push a little further.

“Father, if you have the energy to pick a fight with me first thing in the morning, you might as well give me an allowance.”

I held out my hand, and Shatov’s napkin dropped.

“You……”

“You said you don’t want people talking about me, didn’t you? An unmarried woman of age moping around the house is exactly why all sorts of people come asking after me. So give me money. Money!”

Olga was the first to recover.

“Good heavens, master! Are you going to let the young miss behave this outrageously?”

I let out an exaggerated sigh to match.

“Think about it, Olga. If you want to secure your position as mistress of this house, you ought to be thinking about getting me married off as quickly as possible.”

“What on earth are you talking about, with your fiancé not sending a single word……”

“If I just sit around waiting for a fiancé who hasn’t even sent a greeting in years, I’ll end up growing old and dying in this house right alongside you! I need to put on a new dress and show my face around town if I want any decent marriage prospects to come my way!”

“Hey, you can’t seriously be saying……”

“Why not? When you think about it, can an engagement that only the family knows about even be called a real engagement? Think it through. The older I get, the larger the dowry that’ll need to be paid to a prospective husband, and whose pocket do you think that comes out of?”

Even I had to admit it was flawless logic. Olga had nothing left to say.

“So, Father?”

“……”

I held out my hand to Shatov and smiled brightly.

“Give me money.”

* * *

“To think our miss would say something so common. Madam would have been absolutely horrified.”

On the way back to my room, Mariya trotted after me, giggling.

“My mother said something to me right before she died. She said when you’re unsure whether to do something or not, it’s better to do it and regret it than to not do it and regret it.”

“……Madam said that?”

Strictly speaking, it was my mother who had said it, not Katerina’s.

“Anyway, now that you have the money, you’ll be going to have a dress made, won’t you?”

“What for? I’ll just wear something I already have.”

“What?! No! This is Samsonov’s ball! Every young lady in town will be there, dressed in their absolute finest! If you show up in last year’s outing clothes, everyone will laugh at you!”

“Let them laugh.”

I had told Shatov I was looking for a new match, but all I really needed to do was meet Samsonov and find out what had happened between him and Katerina. It wasn’t as though I had anyone in particular to impress……

[Even so. It was the right thing to do.]

Why was Rodion’s voice coming to mind all of a sudden? I stopped in my tracks and Mariya walked straight into my back.

“Ow! What is it, miss!”

‘The right thing to do.’

That was not a very Russian attitude. Or at least, not the kind of attitude one would expect from the protagonist of a nineteenth-century Russian novel.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to have a dress made.”

Mariya jumped up and clapped her hands.

“Wise decision! You’ll ask Young Master Dmitri to send a carriage, won’t you?”

“No, calling on him again so soon will only cause trouble.”

Dmitri was still useful for too many other things. If I used him up on a dress errand, he wouldn’t be available when I truly needed him.