WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Malfoid

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◈ Fragments of Thorns and a Cradle ◈

Chapter 31

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Content Warning: child abuse; domestic abuse; sexual coercion or assault.

Marie was extraordinarily beautiful. As always, she was more elegant and pure than any lily blooming in San Arzok.

The dress, its puffed sleeves full below the shoulders, made her seem more noble and modest than her birth. It was not merely because the dress was unimaginably expensive.

Marie had always been a woman whose small, fragile figure possessed innate nobility. If she had been born the daughter of a noble family, she surely could have lived a life suited to that bearing.

'Then again, Marie has spent her life receiving education and cultivation unsuited to her status.'

It was no wonder Henrietta had gone mad with envy. Lianna stood beside Sylvia and glanced at Henrietta. Unlike Marie, Henrietta stood fanning herself while keeping her birth-family sisters and the wives of knight-attendants around her like maids.

Marie walked down the corridor alone and took a place in the corner of the banquet hall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Before long, Marquess Gwendel and his mother Lucrezia stood upon the platform. As Lucrezia was the guest of honor, the marquess stood one step behind her.

Ordinarily, Henrietta should have stood beside him. But the marquess did not summon her. Separated from his wife as though he had no wife at all, he searched for Marie with his eyes. Lianna watched Marie, beautiful like a blue flower blooming against a wall.

A family as rich and powerful as House Gwendel could have been the rulers of western society. In fact, when the previous marquess was alive, Lucrezia had enjoyed social life, holding balls and annual events.

But after Agnes, the previous marquess's concubine, fled San Arzok, not even a small laugh was heard inside the castle. The sociable couple began reducing banquets and gatherings then.

Lianna shook her head, remembering Marie's mother, whom she had seen a few times as a child.

Guests from House Durak, Lucrezia's birth family, had come today. Lianna turned her eyes through the hall, wondering whether the girl Marie was friendly with might be among them. A woman as beautiful as clear crystal carved into shape.

"Ella, was it?"

Lianna softly said the Duke of Durak's concubine's name as she looked around the wide ballroom. A handsome man as tall as the marquess, with a similarly striking face, entered with a small woman on his arm. The elegant woman, as delicate as she was beautiful, was embraced by the duke.

Strangely, Lianna felt a sense of deprivation and glanced toward Marie. Although Marie met the duke's concubine's gaze, her expression remained clear. Neither acknowledged the other, and they did not look at each other long.

They differed from noblewomen in many ways. Perhaps they exchanged greetings when alone, but given the occasion, they avoided conspicuous behavior. Every step Marie took looked as careful as walking over thin ice, making Lianna worry again.

Perhaps she should have brought Célisse after all. Célisse and Lianna were more than distant acquaintances. When they were together, they exchanged greetings and looked after each other's health.

That was possible because Lianna had a lover. She had no reason to guard against Célisse, making pity possible. But Marie and Henrietta...

'From her temperament, even if Henrietta found a lover, she would not leave Marie alone.'

What an unfortunate fate. Following her mother, Marie would have to live a dishonored life. What sin had mother and daughter committed that they had to become this household's refuse together?

"...In commemoration of my mother's noble birthday, and on her behalf, I offer thanks once more to all honored guests who have come to grace this gathering, for her devoted and loving service to this family. Please enjoy this modest banquet, and may you return home safely."

The marquess finished his short speech on behalf of Lucrezia. Henrietta had somehow taken her place beside him. Yet he did not elevate or praise her even slightly.

Normally, a husband would briefly mention his wife's efforts so her contribution could be recognized. But the marquess did not give Henrietta a single glance.

Henrietta, who had stared only at the marquess's handsome face since the speech began, hardened and cast a sharp glance in Marie's direction. It was so obvious that Lianna's heart tightened.

Meanwhile, Marie stood in the corner, blinking. As Henrietta fixed her eyes on Marie, her sisters from Nestro also glanced at Marie while fluttering their fans.

After finishing his speech and descending the stairs, the marquess called Madame Flandme and had her bring his young sons. Marie's gaze, which had wandered anxiously through the air, naturally went to the children in his arms.

The marquess held his eldest son, about five, and his younger son, barely three, one in each arm and kissed them. Marie only looked at them, her hands clasped neatly. Henrietta approached his side.

"Oh, our darling son. You are wearing such pretty new clothes. Who tied this for you?"

Henrietta tenderly stroked the child's hair, speaking as though he were her own son. The eldest son, touched by her hand, looked faintly frightened and turned his head toward his birth mother.

His face became stiff in a way that did not suit a child. It was too sensitive a response, as though something had happened between them.

"Waaah!"

As Henrietta turned toward Marie after touching the older boy, she stroked the younger child's head. The smaller boy burst into tears in the marquess's arms. His crying reached the high ceiling and spread through the hall. Only then did Marie begin shifting her feet anxiously.

Concern appeared on the pale face of a woman from whom no feeling had been drawn. The marquess did not soothe the child. Instead, he watched Marie with quiet eyes, as though waiting to see what she would do.

As Henrietta fumbled in surprise, the child cried more loudly. He wriggled faintly, seeming uncomfortable in his father's arms. The marquess did not soothe him at all, only watched his female slave. The crying child began to whimper for his mother.

Marie, flustered, slowly moved toward the child. Only then did the marquess begin soothing the fussing child little by little, a broad smile spreading across his face. Marie standing beside him looked exactly like his wife.

Before going onto the platform, Endymion had looked for Marie. But only Henrietta and Owen had entered his sight.

Owen had entered the banquet hall with his father, then gone out to the balcony to smoke. Endymion watched him to see whether he would approach Marie, biting his dry lip. He already knew Owen openly pursued Marie. His hidden eyes throughout San Arzok watched Marie every hour.

'Sir Owen is only Sir Owen.'

Whenever Endymion watched Marie like a man mad with suspicion, she always said that. Unable to interrogate a pregnant woman further, Endymion swallowed his anxiety and jealousy. It was not because he trusted Marie. But he could not press her further.

He thought back on the last banquet they had held. He did not need to think. Even at the small ball held that winter to pray for his victory, Marie had stayed close at his side, adjusting his cravat.

There had not been the slightest hesitation in her hand as she touched him. She had not been ashamed to kiss him where everyone looked. Endymion habitually held Marie by the waist. Except when men gathered to smoke, he always walked holding Marie and teasing her.

He had always enjoyed the banquets Marie prepared, praised her taste, and elevated her before others by saying that teaching her had been worthwhile. My woman. My wife, whom I raised and taught, possesses such wonderful qualities. Displaying her proudly before others was one of the things he did best.

But today Marie had not come to him.

Whenever there was a banquet, they dressed and checked each other's appearance before entering together. Unless it was a dangerous posting, Marie followed him on long journeys and through wars, sharing his hardships. He had always brought her along to the family's few annual events.

Yet Marie had not sought him today. After waiting without her coming, Endymion had sent word through his mother's maid that they would now enter the banquet hall. And he felt an inexplicable displeasure and betrayal.

'Let me see how far you take this.'

He allowed Henrietta to draw everyone's attention by pretending to be the mother of his children. He did not soothe the child even when he cried.

The child in his arms meant nothing to him. Whenever Marie acted distant this way, the children became nothing to him. No matter how they cried or sought their mother, they did not stir him.

Only Marie mattered. Marie's anxious face. Her alert gaze toward their two young sons.

Endymion handed the crying child to the woman trying to take him from his arms, then kissed her. Marie stepped back in surprise. Endymion put his boiling anger aside and kissed her again.

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