WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Malfoid

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◈ Fragments of Thorns and a Cradle ◈

Volume 2, Part 1

Chapter 35

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Content Warning: domestic abuse; physical violence.

Marie stood with her hands neatly folded, like a blue flower blooming against a wall. Quietly, she swallowed every vulgar, frivolous thing she heard.

"I should at least say something."

Ella was about to step forward when Marie caught her white hand and shook her head. There was nothing to gain from provoking the noblewomen here, no matter how dearly Duke Durak, her master, cherished her.

Female slaves were hateful creatures by their very existence, beings undeserving of sympathy. In that respect, Ella was fortunate. Her circumstances differed from Marie's in many ways. To Ella, her child and her love mattered more than the family of the master she belonged to. But Marie was different. The family and the marquess's honor came first.

"Go tell them this dress was made first. I can tell them. I don't know what happened, but this dress was already here three years ago..."

"Ella."

"If the marquess finds out you went through this..."

"If the marchioness is humiliated, what will happen to the ball? Especially when the person humiliating her is a lowly female slave."

"But."

"It is different when a female slave is humiliated and when the mistress of a household is humiliated. Their stations differ, so the honor damaged differs too."

Ella's face froze with shock. Marie swallowed the heat rising inside her and rubbed her friend's hand. Ella sometimes seemed to forget that she herself was a servant. Marie did not want to speak of rank to a friend like that.

But this time, she felt she had to point it out.

"If I am embarrassed here, the marquess's house will not suffer at all. They will only think that ignorant, lowborn women have caused the sort of trouble they always do."

In fact, the mistresses would usually receive sympathy afterward. For that reason, noblewomen sometimes hoped female slaves would openly cause trouble and get under everyone's skin.

That was why Marie understood what Henrietta had done. The dresses were a shame to lose, but they had never felt like clothes Marie had any right to wear. That made them easier to let go.

"If the marquess finds out..."

"Then we must make sure he does not."

Marie whispered without energy. Ella stared into Marie's empty green eyes, then nodded.

Marie had a face like a young girl who had not yet lost all her baby fat. She was harmless and fragile as a child. Because tears often gathered in her eyes, people tended to think of her as a little girl. Yet at times she smiled with such boundless gentleness that no one could guess how deep she truly was.

What kind of girl is Marie?

Ella had known Marie for a long time and had been proud to think she knew her well.

But she did not.

After a while, the noblewomen began to move to the salon one by one. Just as the men gathered to pass the time smoking rolled cigarettes, the ladies spent time in the salon before the ball began in earnest.

Marie had planned to walk in the garden. She did not especially enjoy walking at night, but there was nothing for her and Ella to do alone. A walk seemed the best way to ask after each other.

Just as they were about to leave, Henrietta's maid approached Marie and told her to come to the salon.

The maid spoke as if Marie were a servant. Ella immediately looked displeased, but Marie remained calm. Saying they could walk later, she went to the salon where Henrietta waited. Ella followed because she did not want to be left alone.

As they entered, all eyes turned toward them. Ella looked down with distaste at the women clustered together. Every one of them seemed absurd and pathetic.

Without the slightest fear, Ella returned each woman's sharp glare in turn.

Marie stood beside her with her hands folded, offered a greeting, then moved to the wall. Ella did not greet them.

"And who are you, not to greet us?"

"My apologies. I forgot."

One of the noblewomen snapped at her. Ella then greeted them with the face of someone who had just remembered what she had forgotten. She smiled and bowed properly, but the noblewoman only glared as if she remained dissatisfied.

Ella lifted her chin and went to stand beside Marie.

About five minutes later, Henrietta opened her lips.

"A pipe."

"Yes."

The woman gave the order to Marie as naturally as if she were used to doing so. Marie had been waiting quietly behind her like a real maid and now moved at once.

Ella watched Marie from the corner of the salon, her face twisting.

Although she was pregnant, Marie still had a narrow waist. Ella thought she had heard that Marie was past the first stage of pregnancy, yet she remained as slender as a girl. It was hard to believe, especially since this was not her first child.

With skin so white and clear it hurt the eyes, peach-colored cheeks, and a beauty as pure as a painting, Marie was so overwhelmingly beautiful that no further description was needed to show she outshone every woman in the salon.

And Henrietta, wearing a crude dress that clearly imitated Marie's in childish fashion, was using her like a maid.

According to Marie, that too would be natural. A knight's concubine was a personal servant who had to be more devoted to his wife than anyone else. Naturally, she should attend to her mistress.

It was true. At another time, Marie could have done Henrietta a small favor. But Marie was pregnant and had only just passed the danger of miscarriage.

"Here it is, my lady."

"This is not it."

Henrietta looked up at her with eyes so hard that it was embarrassing. Marie had brought what was available in the salon and blinked.

Henrietta moved her lips elegantly.

"Bring it again."

"Is there something else you are looking for? In the salon..."

A salon was a place where noblewomen held small gatherings. Since every noble castle naturally had one, the management of its contents belonged to the lady of the house.

Ella openly glared at the woman tormenting Marie.

How Marie endured such disgusting behavior was beyond her. Ella was in the same situation, but she could not live thinking as Marie did. She did not believe she should naturally endure such contempt and scorn.

She had become a concubine because she had no other choice. Did she also have to endure the mistress's hatred? If Henrietta disliked Marie that much, she should tell her husband plainly, free Marie, and throw her out of the castle.

But Henrietta did not have the courage for that. Instead, she vented her anger over meaningless things on an easy target. Worse, she was using an obvious scheme to harass a pregnant woman.

It was too ugly to watch.

But this was Marie's home. It was what Marie wanted. Ella had no place to interfere.

"Can you not simply do as you are told without making me speak at length?"

"..."

"Must I repeat every little errand until my mouth hurts? The pipe is in my bedroom."

"I am sorry, my lady."

"Well, what can one expect of a stupid child like you? Your mother was a worthless woman too. All you know how to do is spread your legs beneath other people's husbands and bear children. I suppose I should understand."

"..."

"Come to think of it, I heard even your maternal grandmother was a female slave. Selling your bodies for generations. How ridiculous."

"Please stop, Marchioness. Female slaves do have certain duties..."

"Oh my. Countess Tvels, you were the one who brought it up first."

At Henrietta's words, Countess Tvels's expression hardened. Even if Marie was a household slave, it was not proper to make her stand before them and insult her. Whether it could be done or not was beside the point. A noblewoman should have some dignity.

It was less about the feelings of a mere household slave than about a noblewoman's reputation and appearance. No matter how irritating the other person was, such open cruelty was vulgar. And Henrietta had dragged her into it.

Of course, Countess Tvels had said those things. But she had said them privately. She had never asked Henrietta to repeat them in Marie's face.

Countess Tvels gave Henrietta a sidelong look with a stiff expression, then looked away. Someone cleared their throat to caution Henrietta, but Henrietta had been too deeply wounded in her pride by Marie to stop now.

"You, trying to stand equal to me and stealing my husband..."

Henrietta spat out each humiliation she had felt as if grinding it between her teeth. Marie stood still and felt the woman's rage.

Sadly, Marie could not ease it. She wanted, somehow, to rescue Henrietta from that terrible emotion. But there was nothing she could do.

"I am sorry, my lady."

"Do you know what is even more hateful? Asking for my forgiveness when you are not truly sorry at all."

"Marchioness, please stop. It is a happy day. You can discipline her another day."

Lady Blovens tried to restrain her. Henrietta drove at Marie as if she could hear nothing else.

Marie tried not to let her eyes fill. But the more she blinked, the sharper the bridge of her nose stung and the hotter her eyelids became.

"Look at you, crying again. What did I do? What did I do to you that you are pretending to be fragile? You are laughing at me inside. You think I am ridiculous inside."

"No, my lady."

"If only you would be cruel and..."

Amelia abruptly rose and seized Henrietta's arm. Henrietta turned toward her sister, a bad feeling overtaking her.

Marie quickly wiped away her tears and composed her face. She could not let today become like last time.

"You are stupid, and you are vile too."

The voice was low and cold. It was the voice one might use for a half-wit picked up by chance, not for one's wife. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, Marie could not find even the smallest trace of affection in it. The voice was smooth, level, and utterly flat.

Marie stared at Henrietta, frozen in place, and repeatedly wiped her wet cheeks.

Then Endymion roughly turned her around.

His hand seized her chin hard enough to hurt. Eyes sharp as blades stripped her apart, slowly and thoroughly.

Marie trembled even more than Henrietta. Her thoughts held only one thing: she had to calm him somehow. And Endymion could not fail to know that.

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