To The Traitor in My Bed - Chapter 16
“You just want to see who comes to claim it, don’t you? Well, if that’s the case, you can come and watch over it yourself. I don’t meet anyone when I’m working. Parker handles everything when that happens.”
<My Aunt… is writing her autobiography>
This was all Frederick had said about his aunt’s ‘work.’
He seemed not to want to talk further, so Deirdre didn’t press him for more details. Perpetua didn’t need to work for a living, so it was probably something like publishing an autobiography or letters anonymously, as some noblewomen did.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I don’t meet anyone when I’m working.”
Perpetua replied gruffly.
Still, Deirdre wasn’t particularly bothered. In fact, she quite liked this eccentric lady, and Perpetua knew it.
She smiled warmly.
“Thank you so much, Lady Perpetua Fairchild.”
* * *
And so, Deirdre started visiting Edelweiss Heights regularly.
On the first day the announcement was made, she brought a large supply of pies and cakes from the Count’s residence. Perpetua spent about an hour talking with her before heading upstairs to work. Deirdre spent the next hour petting the cat in front of the fireplace, then read a book she had brought from Swinton while sipping tea. Eventually, she fell asleep in the hall.
At six o’clock, Rex woke her up.
“It’s time to return to the Count’s residence, Madam.”
“Did anyone come by?”
Rex shook his head.
Deirdre had wanted to say goodbye to Perpetua, but the butler—particularly young and handsome, his name was Parker—came over and said, “the Mistress is taking a nap.” So, she left with the butler and the head maid’s greetings.
Between Perpetua’s house and the Count’s residence was a small river, a tributary of the Merilbon River. Since it was frozen, Deirdre had skated here. Rex knelt to tighten her skate laces.
This scene was clearly visible from the third-floor window of the three-story house on the hill.
With her eyes slightly squinted, Perpetua watched Deirdre energetically glide across the ice. The blue ribbon on her hat and her chestnut hair fluttered in the wind. Perpetua continued watching until Deirdre disappeared from sight, then turned and walked down the northern corridor.
With each step, the firm sound of a cane echoed.
When she reached a closed door, Perpetua struck it with the end of her cane.
Without waiting for a response, she swung the door open.
Standing tall with her hands gripping the cane, she shouted:
“Now what will you do, Darnell? Because of your mistake, I’m having to lie too. What does poor Deirdre have to do with this?”
Inside the room was a blazing fireplace, thick rugs, some slightly worn but still impressive high-end furniture, and two men with gloomy expressions.
One of the men was sitting on the bed, while the large man, whose size was at least twice that of the homeowner, was perched in an armchair. The man, called Darnell, who had silver hair, hunched his shoulders.
“…If the owner of the necklace doesn’t show up, won’t the Countess give up soon enough?”
The young man in a muslin shirt was Ian Darnell, a member of the ‘White Rose Brigade,’ and a recent escapee who had been helped by his comrades. With striking sapphire-colored eyes and silver hair, he looked pale and frail, still recovering from his injuries.
In contrast, his companion sitting across from him, Roger Blanc, had a darker complexion and a larger build.
Blanc chastised his companion.
“Do you think the Countess will just give up when something like this shows up at the Count’s residence? If the Count hears about it, we’ll…”
His words were laced with a unique accent that mixed Froiden and other regional dialects. Blanc seemed about to say more, but he hesitated and fell silent at a glance from Darnell.
Perpetua nodded gravely.
“That Froiden-speaking man is right.”
“I’m from Ratnum, near Luska.”
Blanc protested.
“Anyone who speaks Froiden is a Froiden, no matter where they’re from.”
“I speak Antwerpian, Madam.”
“I am not ‘Madam,’ I am Lady Perpetua Fairchild. And as you said, someone dropped a suspicious item in my house’s sewer. Do you think any lady of the house would easily dismiss such a thing? It’s an important item, so why wasn’t it properly guarded from the start?”
“That’s… because of the medication…”
Viscount Darnell mumbled weakly.
Having been injured during his escape, he was transported by horse and carriage to this far-off place, Rochepolie. His destination was the Count’s residence’s annex that had been provided by Count Fairchild. The doctor who cared for him prescribed strong painkillers and sleeping pills, which left Darnell in a dazed state. He hadn’t realized he had dropped the cherished necklace into the washbasin. He had even bribed the guards to keep it with him in prison.
When news reached him that the Countess was coming, he and Blanc hurriedly moved. It was only then that Darnell realized he had left the locket at the Count’s residence, and he instructed Blanc to retrieve it. Unfortunately, Blanc was caught by the Countess herself.
“Didn’t Lady Rochepolie say she wouldn’t report it to the military police?”
Blanc asked, and Perpetua scoffed.
“Froiden, haven’t you heard what happened at the Havisham? Even if a murder occurred at the Count’s residence, she would never call the military police herself. Consider yourself fortunate, Ian Darnell.”
Darnell hunched his shoulders again.