Seated on the cold floor, Charlotte watched the boy reading a manuscript on the ground. The boy—Eric—turned the pages one by one with indifferent eyes.

“Ngh…”

Ferris, who had written the manuscript, fidgeted, tapping his feet restlessly. Eric shot him the occasional glare, as if to say he was being a nuisance, but Charlotte understood his nerves well enough. This was already the third one.

“Well?”

When Eric finished reading the last page and lifted his head, Ferris asked anxiously. Eric first handed the manuscript back to Ferris, then wrote his thoughts in the notebook lying on the floor.

The dialogue’s still contrived, but it’s definitely improved compared to before.

“So out of ten, how many points?”

Brow furrowing as if to ask why he’d even bother asking such a thing, Eric held up seven fingers.

“Seven?!”

Eric folded one finger down.

“Six?”

Eric raised the finger back up.

“So seven after all?”

When Ferris spoke, scratching his head, Eric, with an exasperated look, repeatedly folded and unfolded a single finger. Then Charlotte said carefully,

“I think he means six and a half points?”

Eric nodded vigorously, his face brightening.

“Six and a half, huh…”

At the ambiguous score, Ferris stroked his chin with a glum expression.

“Eric has high standards, you know. And you’ve grown a great deal compared to before.”

“That’s right. My piece just before this got a four!”

Ferris shrugged and grinned heartily.

“At any rate, thank you both, every time. There’s no one back at my house who’ll read my practice writing.”

“You needn’t thank me. You’ve no idea how much fun I’m having thanks to this.”

“Oh, Charlotte…”

Ferris flushed, his eyes sparkling. It was just as Eric, displeased with Ferris, was glaring at him with all his might—that a maid came looking for Charlotte.

“My lady. Madam is asking for you.”

“Ah. Then give me just a moment…”

Charlotte excused herself to Ferris and Eric and rose from her seat. She was a little worried about Eric’s continued glaring at Ferris, but in any case Ferris was a good sort, more than able to take Eric’s bit of petulance in good humor.

I’m glad I came here.

Charlotte recalled the time she’d been dragged off by Elena and forced into the carriage.

[Why is your face so gloomy? Marge, was it? That maid seemed dependable. I’m sure she’ll manage the manor properly.]

[That’s not the reason. I just don’t want to go outside…]

[Hmm. I see. You’re not in the mood to travel, I suppose.]

Elena said, the tips of her eyebrows drooping as if in regret.

Charlotte wanted to explain. That it wasn’t just travel—that stepping outside at all was hard for her. That even now, it felt as though someone beyond the window were eyeing her sidelong, and it stifled her. And yet even getting those words out was a struggle for Charlotte. Had she possessed the strength to explain in the first place, she’d never have been dragged all the way to the carriage.

[I’m sorry for bringing you along by force. But my mother insisted I absolutely had to.]

[…Why would Madam Spencer want me…]

[Oh—I suppose I never told you this part.]

Clapping her hands together in a fluster, she swallowed and said,

[Before your mother passed away, she apparently did something to help House Spencer once. It would have been back when you were still in the womb. And before I myself was married.]

At the time, Viscountess Prairie had said to her much-older cousin—who vowed she would repay the kindness without fail—these words, so the story goes:

[In my place—if ever the child in my womb should come to need help, reach out your hand to them, whenever that may be.]

Viscountess Prairie, frail in body, knew all too well that she had not so very much time left to protect her child. That was why she had made such a request.

[…I had no idea anything like that had happened.]

Her chapped lips moved feebly.

[…But how did Madam Spencer come to know of my situation?]

[Ah, that’s… because I was there at the time.]

Elena hesitated several times before speaking in a careful tone. Charlotte’s eyes went wide.

[You were at the… wedding?]

[Yes. After I arrived, I paid my respects to Viscount Roman. And when I said I’d like to greet you, he told me to greet you later. So I never got the chance.]

Charlotte’s face twisted. Elena was a relative of Charlotte’s. If they could bring Derik Shelbourne into the waiting room to be introduced, then of course they could have done the same for Elena. And yet Viscount Roman had shut Elena out. Why? Because Derik was a noble who served the Earlister ducal house, and House Spencer was a house without a title.

The thin hands resting on Charlotte’s knees trembled. She was angry, and she was also sorry toward Elena.

[I’m sorry. You came all that way, and not only were you never properly received, you had to witness such an ugly scene…]

Then Elena clasped Charlotte’s hand tightly.

[My lady. I don’t know how this will sound, but I truly think it’s a blessing your marriage fell through. It’s that the gods were watching over you.]

There was no hesitation in Elena’s voice. Her eyes, too, shone clear as the sun risen on a fair-weather day. Charlotte wished she could think as Elena did. That it had turned out well. That she’d done very well indeed. But life kept stifling her so.

Tears welled up with a rush in Charlotte’s blue eyes. Startled, Elena stammered an “Oh, um,” then changed the subject.

[You don’t know much about my mother, do you, my lady?]

When Charlotte, discreetly wiping her tears with her hand, nodded, Elena held out a handkerchief and said,

[She’s the most frightening person I know. Honestly, if it weren’t for my mother’s orders, I’d never have hauled you off—oh, not “hauled,” um—brought you along this… forcibly. I have such a soft heart, you know.]

Charlotte let out a small laugh at the thought that hauling someone off and bringing them along forcibly seemed about the same thing.

[Is that so?]

[Yes. It’s the truth. So, my lady—if you don’t want to break down sobbing when you meet my mother, you’ll need to steel yourself from now on.]

At the time, Charlotte assumed Elena was joking to lift her spirits. But this was a mistaken assumption.

Come to think of it, who would tell a joke about their mother-in-law being frightening…

A gaunt frame, a sharp gaze. Madam Spencer, whose every inch radiated a prickly temperament, took one look at Charlotte and, in place of a greeting, said this:

[You’re a sorry sight. It’s plain as day how you’ve been getting on.]

Madam Spencer heaved a heavy sigh and went on.

[I may have invited you, but don’t imagine I intend to simply feed you and put you up for nothing.]

To start, she assigned Charlotte the task of sorting through receipts.

[You’ll want to keep your wits sharp about it. If you’re curious how I’ll react, feel free to make a mistake.]

Tense as a drawn string at the sharp warning, Charlotte checked the receipts meticulously. But as she worked, a thought also came to her.

What am I even doing, coming all the way here? It’s not as if I came of my own wish. Could it be that my mother’s request was just a pretext, and she summoned me to put me to work? Ah, never mind. For now, let’s just work. I haven’t the wits to spare for figures, either.

Having watched Charlotte work for a month without a single mistake, Madam Spencer next entrusted her with sorting the ledgers. Good heavens. The workload was on an entirely different level from sorting receipts. It swallowed five hours a day easily, and toward the end of the month there were stretches of several days spent up all night.

It was truly grueling. And yet, living harried and run off her feet by the work like that, she found herself sleeping again, and eating again, too. Charlotte came to understand with her own body, quite naturally, why Madam Spencer was working her so hard.

Cold as her manner and expression may be, deep down she’s a truly kind person.

A faint smile on her lips, Charlotte entered the woman’s study.

“You called for me?”

Madam Spencer, who had been wrestling with an expense statement, took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was already a gaunt, sharp-featured old woman, and worn out on top of it, she looked all the more prickly.

“Sorry to call you in when you’re busy.”

“Not at all. I was idling about.”

“Looking after a child is labor.”

“Eric’s so grown-up that there are even times I feel like the one being looked after.”

Madam Spencer let out a small laugh. Eric was a difficult, prickly child. Seeing him open his heart this much, Charlotte surely took right after her mother.

“I called you in for nothing more than this—I wondered if you knew where Elena had gone. Has she gone trotting off to a Bayen family function again, by any chance?”

Madam Spencer’s face, perfectly fine until a moment ago, crumpled in an instant into irritation and displeasure. Charlotte shook her head and said,

“No. She went to buy a book for Eric to read.”

“Then why is she taking so long to come back?”

Tch. Madam Spencer clicked her tongue.

“In any case, I’m relieved she didn’t go calling at the Bayen manor. I truly cannot stand that man.”

Charlotte understood Madam Spencer’s feelings well enough. And no wonder—House Spencer ran a modest hotel of about three stories.