The topic shifted to Maude because a major accident had occurred during the play Derek had taken them to, where an actor died after being stabbed with a sword during his performance. This had turned the Whittingham art world upside down, and “The End of Innocence” was eventually banned from performance.

Prince Reginald’s visit to the theater that day was likely to determine if the play’s content was truly targeting the Lester royal family.

⌜I think he…… was murdered during the performance.⌟

How had Bronwynner recognized that the actor had died?

Since the actress who had been on stage with the victim had called out his real name, the audience might have noticed something was wrong. However, not everyone who gets stabbed dies.

⌜I experienced…… something frightening before.⌟

Her voice trembled finely when she said those words.

Had she witnessed someone dying before her eyes? The same was true for Maude. Because of this, young Maude had suffered from aphasia for a while, and after recovering from it, she had completely lost her memory of that time.

Just as Maude was fine now, he had to assume Bronwynner would be all right too.

“Maude is fine.”

Jeremy answered.

Of course, Maude was deeply distressed by the fact that she had to be separated from Bronwynner for the time being.

“What about Miss Pemberton?”

“I sent her to Whittingham.”

“What? When?”

Derek asked in surprise. Jeremy couldn’t understand why Derek cared about her.

“She should be on the train by now.”

“As her so-called guardian, you didn’t even see her off?”

“Miss Pemberton can surely board a train by herself.”

In fact, Bronwynner wasn’t alone but was with her chaperone Lady Windell and Seth. Jeremy hadn’t gone with them because he didn’t want to follow them to Whittingham and encounter Devon.

“She seemed like a nice young lady, why don’t you treat her more kindly?”

Derek was the only person besides Jeremy and Bronwynner herself who knew that ‘Miss Pemberton’ was a false identity.

Isn’t he treating her well enough already? Jeremy retorted.

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you be nice to her yourself?”

* * *

The only ‘school’-like institution Bronwynner had experienced was Perth Orphanage. So she couldn’t even imagine what the Whitman Bride Training School would be like.

Her previous visit for the interview was somewhat helpful. Because she had been there once before, the space itself was familiar.

At the front gate, Lady Windell embraced her tightly.

“See you on the weekend, Miss Pemberton. Don’t forget to write to Maude.”

Despite promising to visit Crimsworth every weekend, Maude had earnestly requested that she write letters.

⌜If you write a letter on Monday and send it, I can receive it by Wednesday or Thursday. You must tell me everything about school life without leaving anything out.⌟

Saying this, Maude had loaded her with a set of pretty stationery. After the incident at the theater, Maude had come to regard Bronwynner even more intimately. Because her employer had instructed her not to act like the girl’s governess, Bronwynner couldn’t show too much happiness about this.

At the entrance, Marchioness Francine Whitman was waiting for the new student.

The old lady smiled stiffly.

“Welcome, Miss Pemberton.”

“I hope you’ve been well, Marchioness.”

Bronwynner greeted her politely.

After that, everything was a blur. Someone who seemed to be a servant came and took her luggage from Seth, carrying it somewhere. Bronwynner was introduced in turn to the head of instruction and the dormitory supervisor, and one of them showed her the daily schedule and dormitory.

“Two people share one room. Do you have sisters, Miss Pemberton?”

The dormitory supervisor asked. She nodded.

“Yes, I have six older sisters.”

“That should be fine then.”

Most noble young ladies grow up moving between nurseries and study rooms during childhood. They usually get their own room around the time their first menstruation begins. However, in homes with many siblings, it wasn’t uncommon for two to share a large room.

It wouldn’t be strange if some of the ladies here, coming from well-known families in the kingdom, disliked sharing a room with others.

“Who will I be sharing a room with……?”

“Ah.”

The dormitory supervisor smiled peculiarly from behind her glasses. “Lady Devon Whitman.”

Of all people……

Bronwynner modestly lowered her eyes. It would have been much easier if it were Celestine.

Though she wasn’t in a position to choose, Bronwynner felt uncomfortable with Lady Devon after the interview incident where she had asked about Bronwynner’s strengths but then tested her on the opposite for the exam.

‘Moreover, Lady Devon is Lord Crimsworth’s……’

She quickly dismissed the thought. Even if Devon were the future Lady Crimsworth, what of it? Unless something unexpected happened, those two wouldn’t be getting married within three months. And even if they did marry, what would it matter?

It was none of her business.

However, while it might not matter to Bronwynner, it certainly mattered to Lady Devon. Perhaps Devon herself wasn’t clearly aware of it, but that’s how it turned out.

After a light lunch, a tour of the school, tea time, and meetings with teachers, Bronwynner received instructions that “formal meetings with peers would begin tomorrow” and was lying exhausted when it happened.

Someone knocked lightly on the door.

With feelings half nervous and half excited, she answered, “Yes, come in,” but instead of Devon, a tall young lady with light wheat-colored hair appeared beyond the door.

Bronwynner awkwardly rose from the bed.

“Hello, excuse me, but……?”

“Annie Moonstone of the Moonstone baronial family.”

The woman who briefly introduced herself pointed at Devon’s empty bed.

“I’ve decided to sleep in this room instead of her today.”

‘Instead……?’

Bronwynner couldn’t gauge whether Annie spoke informally because she was a baron’s daughter or if peers normally spoke casually to each other.

She smiled brightly.

“Yes, nice to meet you.”

Annie didn’t specifically tell her to speak informally.

“Would you brew some tea for me?”

Again, Bronwynner couldn’t tell if this was a roommate’s duty or a maid’s job. Perhaps it was school tradition for juniors to run small errands for seniors. In any case, the room was equipped with tea implements and a small stove.

While she brewed tea, Annie made no attempt to hide her curiosity as she thoroughly examined Bronwynner’s unpacked belongings. Without asking permission, she opened the wardrobe and inspected it, then said,

“You have too many clothes, Pemberton. There won’t be room for Lady Devon’s clothes.”

Three-quarters of the wardrobe was already filled with Devon’s clothes, and Bronwynner had only hung some of her clothes in the remaining space.

“But there’s space—”

Annie pointed to the floor. “Don’t leave your shoes out here either.”

There were at least fifty boxes of Devon’s shoes stacked on the wardrobe floor, so she had no choice but to put her shoes there.

This kind of criticism continued throughout the time Annie drank the tea Bronwynner served. None of it was written in the living guidelines the dormitory supervisor had explained.

But Bronwynner didn’t argue with Annie’s words.

She didn’t want to cause trouble, and compared to Perth Orphanage, this place was heaven, so this level of interference didn’t bother her. Also, having worked for two years at the hard labor of caring for two children all day while catering to the picky Baroness Bingham’s moods, nodding absently to Annie Moonstone’s words was nothing. No matter how much Annie tried to assert her dominance, it couldn’t compare to the duke of Crimsworth’s caustic remarks.

However, Bronwynner didn’t yet know.

How vicious the students at Whitman School—where they taught how to find wealthier and higher-status husbands and how to become superior ladies for that purpose—could be toward their potential rivals.

How sharp the thorns of Lady Devon, the rose of Whitman who reigned in this small kingdom, could be.

* * *

Bronwynner considered herself physically weak, but that wasn’t entirely true. Until now, she had been given work too heavy for her age and build, which had exhausted her but also built her endurance.

She realized this fact on her first day of formal classes at Whitman School. By afternoon tea time, she was mentally exhausted, but physically fine. When the etiquette teacher announced dismissal after tea time, she was even surprised, thinking, ‘Already?’

“What should I do with the remaining time……?”

The etiquette teacher looked perplexed at her question.

“That’s for you to decide for yourself, Miss Pemberton.”

Though it bore the name ‘school,’ this place was closer to a social gathering with small group lessons. That was the impression of the first day of class.

The curriculum was similar to what Bronwynner had briefly learned at Crimsworth. In the morning, they studied knowledge like literature, history, art theory, and current affairs, and in the afternoon, they had practical classes such as music, dance, and etiquette. Even then, everything ended at three o’clock tea time.

Not all subjects were mandatory, so the number of students gathered for classes was less than twenty. There weren’t even set terms, so students entered with Marchioness Francine Whitman’s approval and stayed until they made their social debut or became engaged.

“After making a social debut, isn’t there nothing left to learn at school?”

When Bronwynner asked this, Annie Moonstone smiled, raising one corner of her mouth.

“How many people do you think actually came here to learn something?”

Then what did they come for?

Fortunately, the first day of classes passed without incident.

Bronwynner received a formal welcome from her peers in the morning, but that was the end of it. At tea time, the etiquette teacher seated her at her table and asked only a few formal questions. She sensed her peers perking up their ears whenever she answered, but no one actively approached this seventh daughter of a viscount family from Goldenborough.

Yet no one was rude to her either, which seemed to be because she was the Duke of Crimsworth’s ward and wore a dress made directly by Madame Floss.

‘You need to act like a fool, Bronwynner.’

Or perhaps it was because she had been constantly giving herself this suggestion, as the duke had instructed.

That night, a different young lady shared Bronwynner’s room instead of Annie Moonstone. By then, Bronwynner could guess that Lady Devon had arranged for her peers to take turns sharing a room with her.