3. A Full-Blown Performance

After her discharge from the hospital, Margie returned not to the Flynn estate but to Cottage Garden in the Graham duchy. It was a temporary residence with clean air and fresh water where she would stay until she recovered her health, or more precisely, her lost memories, and it was her husband Frederic who had suggested it first.

Ian Flynn couldn’t hide his displeasure at the thought of being separated from his daughter, but a single word of advice from a close aide was enough to make him accept his son-in-law’s proposal without hesitation.

‘If you want to hear news of a grandchild as soon as possible, Sir Flynn, perhaps give the young couple some time to enjoy their honeymoon alone.’

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“We’ve arrived. Your Grace, Your Grace the Duchess.”

The Flynn family’s driver brought the motor car to a stop in front of a modest villa.

“Oh, um…… it’s very…… quaint. Rather like……”

A scale less than a quarter of the main estate, sparse furnishings, the unmistakable signs of a long-absent owner’s hand. Because of all that, Margie privately thought the place looked less like a house and more like a stable.

“……A fairy cottage from a storybook.”

Out of consideration for Duke Graham’s dignity, though, she kept that honest opinion firmly to herself.

“Um. I’d like to get some fresh air.”

The moment those insincere words about fairies and storybooks left her mouth, a headache came rolling in. Which was reason enough to want a look at the town before going inside the stable, no, the house. She had been cooped up in a hospital room for days and was itching to move.

“Later. Rest comes first.”

Frederic, concerned for his wife’s health, refused without a second thought.

“I’ve been in a cramped hospital room for so long. I just want to walk a little.”

Margie had no intention of backing down either. There was nothing wrong with her, and the thought of being shut inside the stable, no, the small house, pressed down on her chest like a weight.

“No.”

“The doctor said so himself, didn’t he? That the most important thing for recovery is emotional stimulation. What I need right now isn’t physical rest, it’s shopping……, I mean, a walk.”

“……I’ll assign a manservant who knows the roads well.”

Frederic relented, granting her leave to go out.

Margie managed to secure a brief window of freedom. Only for as long as Frederic was away on business, but still.

“Look at me, going through withdrawal after just a few days without shopping.”

Having finally sent Frederic on his way, Margie let out a long sigh and gave a little shudder.

“Time to revitalize the duchy’s market economy. Heheh.”

She rolled up both sleeves with purpose and threw open the door of a jewelry shop with gusto. She was absolutely prepared to buy everything in sight.

“Surely not. This can’t be…… the best they have?”

But of course, a small town like this was never going to have accessories capable of satisfying her highly refined taste. The shop next door, the one across from that, the jeweler further down the street, all of them turned up equally empty.

“If there’s no jewelry, then clothes……”

Her target shifted from jewelry to dresses.

“Oh dear. This design had a brief flash of popularity in the capital about ten years ago before disappearing almost immediately. Anyone seen wearing this dress would be suspected of being a time traveler from the past……”

She searched every dressmaker with fabric displayed in the window, and the situation there was no different.

“W, well. Maybe the shoe and hat and bag shops will be different? They might not follow trends, but there could be a hidden master with extraordinary skill lurking somewhere?”

Even with that optimism, the shoes and hats and bags were in worse shape than everything else.

The Graham duchy was one of Oslande’s old towns, and the local tax revenue it generated was on the lower end. Unlike other cities where industry had flourished, a large portion of the population here still worked in primary industries. Perhaps because of that, most residents lived modestly and held fairly conservative views about conspicuous consumption. In plain terms, it was a town with no flair, where almost no one had any interest in luxuries beyond necessities.

“Margie Flynn, of all people, coming away empty-handed. This is…… this is a punishment! I’ve been a tastemaker for the Empire’s fashion scene, and now this humiliation……!”

Margie had failed to sign a single blank cheque with the Flynn family name, something she was rather proud of doing, and after two hours she gave up on shopping altogether. There were simply no more shops left to visit in the entire estate town.

“For something that calls itself a duchy, I never imagined it would be this deep in the countryside without even a proper department store……”

I have the money, so why can’t I spend it! This is absurd!

Eyes brimming with tears, Margie returned to the stable, no, the house.

“Why did Frederic bring me somewhere like this! Stupid Frederic! Idiot!”

She flung herself onto the bed in the stable, no, the manor, while the master was out, thrashed around in frustration for a moment, and promptly fell fast asleep.

She opened her eyes again in the early evening, the sun already sinking low. A blaze of red-gold light filled her vision.

“The walk must have worn you out. Napping this late into the day. Just like……”

What roused her senses was Frederic’s gentle voice from the head of the bed where he sat.

“Just like a precious little baby.”

He slowly stroked Margie’s hair as she lay curled in sleep.

“Wh, when did you get back?”

Margie startled upright.

She could barely believe it. Her husband, calling her a baby and smiling with soft eyes, was too beautiful to take in all at once.

And……

“Next time I’ll take you to the neighboring town. It’ll be far more convenient for shopping.”

The maid who had accompanied her had clearly reported every detail of her young mistress’s extravagance back to the master of the house.

“Fr, Frederic. That is, well……”

Well acquainted with her husband’s views on spending, Margie opened her mouth in a hurry.

Right after the wedding, Frederic had made no effort to hide his displeasure at his wife’s expenditures.

‘Why did you buy so many scarves you won’t even use right away. This isn’t even the season for them. And these four are all the exact same shape…… What do you mean? Scarves aren’t for warmth, they’re accessories? They look the same but the colors are different so they’re all different items? If you buy all of them at once, other women won’t be able to copy your look? Ha! What remarkable foresight, Miss Flynn……!’

Duke Graham of Graham, a high nobleman who considered frugality a virtue, could not begin to understand the uninhibited spending of Margie Flynn, who had grown up in wealth. The sight of servants carrying armloads of shopping bags sent his eyes rolling back, and he would invariably exit the scene with a look of contempt, wearing an expression of someone about to be suffocated under the weight of her meaningless acquisitions.

Even that welcome interference had vanished entirely about a week into the marriage. From then on, whether she came home carrying an entire boutique on her back, he simply watched from across the river without a word. His eyes were as blank as someone who had never heard the line from 〈The Grand Ducal Household’s Lewd Wedding Night〉, that the opposite of love is not hatred but indifference.

Frederic, who had been so cold and made her feel so wretched……

“My wife couldn’t find a single thing she liked and came home empty-handed. What a shame. That makes me sad for you too.”

Not only did he not scold her for her aimless spending, he asked first about how she was feeling, coming home with nothing!

“This town is quite far from the capital, so trends arrive slowly and people here resist change.”

“Aah, I see. Conservative……”

Margie echoed his words and gave a vague nod of agreement. She was so caught up in his warmth that she barely knew what she was saying.

“Most people who grew up here are like that. Rigid in their choices, cautious, excessively stability-minded, which makes them seem inflexible to outsiders……”

Probably the way you see me, Margie, Frederic added silently, dropping his head with a quiet, soundless laugh. A self-deprecating smile, empty of any pleasure or joy.

“So once they’ve committed to a belief, it never changes. You were born in a lively, fast-moving city and have always lived surrounded by that kind of culture, so the stubbornness of this place might strike you as hopelessly old-fashioned at times.”

The smile faded. Frederic’s eyes fixed on Margie with an unwavering gaze.

“But that can’t be helped. When the people here decide to love something…… they love it until their very last breath. Myself included.”

A flame leapt suddenly through his dry eyes.

Startled, Margie looked away. It felt like catching a glimpse of something she had no right to see, the hidden vulnerability of Frederic Graham beneath armor that should have been impenetrable, or a depth of feeling she couldn’t begin to measure.