TMRDWMP CH 15
- Jun 18
- 6 min read
Chapter 15
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Saturday's Arrangement
“My wardrobe?”
Riella’s face still hazy with sleep. Mrs Oran offered a bright smile.
“The Mistress instructed me to help Miss Monica choose one of the dresses you sorted out last year.”
Mrs Oran, perfectly dressed, stood in stark contrast to Riella, who sat in her nightclothes, clearly just risen from bed. Riella looked between Mrs Oran and Monica as explained how Lady Mollet had finally given in to Martinel's persistence.
“No.”
“Pardon?”
Mrs Oran looked bewildered. Riella frowned and pondered.
“I haven't decided what to wear to the banquet tomorrow.”
“Weren't you going to wear the green dress you had fitted recently?”
“I've changed my mind. Come back later once I've decided.”
“But surely, fashions change so quickly that last year's gowns...”
“Mrs Oran.”
Riella cut her off, annoyed. Mrs Oran fell silent.
“Come back later.”
She scanned Monica from head to toe. She was clearly confused, but Monica caught a faint trace of irritation and spite in her eyes. Strangely, Monica found that rather welcome.
“I apologise for the intrusion, Miss. We’ll come back this afternoon.”
“…I’ll be busy this afternoon. Mrs Oran, I’ll be going into town briefly, so just… choose something with Miss Monica.”
Monica bowed. Once they left the room, Mrs Oran whispered sheepishly.
“The Young Lady isn't usually so difficult. The banquet is important to her, so she’s clearly on edge.”
“It’s alright. I’m sorry you have to go through the trouble because of me.”
“This isn't your fault, Miss Offen. It's because of young master!”
Mrs Oran shrugged, and Monica smiled vaguely. After seeing Mrs Oran off, who hurried away to prepare for the banquet, Monica quickened her steps and left the mansion herself. Needless to say, she was heading to her Saturday lunch arrangement. She would normally be focused on getting compensation for her sixty shillings ribbon, buther mind was occupied by something else.
“Come back later”
Mrs Oran said Riella was unusually fussy today. Normally, she was gentle and an easy-going person, even to the maids. She was generous enough to hand out handkerchiefs she had used only once.
“I’m not asking her to give me a dress, but rather asking her to lend it to me, I didn’t think it would be that much of a bother to her.”
Monica bit her lip. In fact, she was relieved Riella had been irritable. If Riella had readily opened her wardrobe, as Mrs Oran suggested she might, Monica might have left on the spot. When Monica first arrived at the mansion and saw Riella, she had measured her own place by Riella’s clothes and gloves. Monica had only four outfits, one now torn, while Riella had an entire room just for dresses.
But the difference itself wasn’t that much overwhelming. Rather…
Compared to Riella’s attitude…
Monica ate breakfast with the maids huddling together and accompanied Martinel on his walk. After that, Lady Mollet instructed her to visit Riella together with Mrs Oran. Riella had been asleep the whole time.
It was obvious by the way she woke up dishevelled, in contrast to Mrs Oran who’s perfectly dressed.
Even if she hadn’t been sleeping, Riella would likely be trimming roses in the garden or toying her meal in her room.
Monica knew from the maids that Riella had been starving herself since yesterday just to fit into her green banquet gown. That’s why, if Riella opened her wardrobe with an easy smile, Monica would have been upset.
From the moment she entered Riella’s room, Monica had been watching her closely. It was gratifying to know that she bothered Riella. She hated the idea of Riella being so happy and secure that she wouldn't even notice her. Yet, the hardest part to bear was the fact that she was constantly comparing herself to Riella.
Arriving at Argent Square, Monica wiped her face. The sun turned her dry, sticky skin red.
Honestly… how petty.
Monica patted her cheeks and shook her head lightly.
Still, it was my choice.
No one forced her when she was twelve years old. Even if Lizzie had begged, Monica chose that pink brooch. If she did not think that way, how else could she endure? It was pointless to spend her time here drowning in inferiority until Riella left the mansion.
“You’re… surprisingly cheerful.”
A man resembling Garcia had once told her that during her nursing days. He hadn't meant it as a compliment, but it had comforted her then, just as it did now.
“It's fine.”
She muttered, cupping her cheeks.
“I'll get through this.”
She had eaten well this morning. Compared to Riella starving just because of a banquet, her life wasn't so bad, right?
Monica hurried toward the fountain. Argent Square was crowded during lunch time. Monica immediately spotted the person she has to meet. After all, the man was a strikingly handsome.
“Monica!”
Monica fixed her twisted lips, about to make to make a sarcastic remark, and smiled awkwardly. It was the person she had arranged to meet, but it wasn’t him.
“Louis?”
Blonde hair that waves beautifully in the wind, and blue eyes. She could tell at a glance. The man smiling warmly before her had exactly the same face as Garcia, yet he was someone else entirely. Louis, the kind man she had met when she first arrived in this city.
“It's been a while. What a delight to see you again. How have you been?”
He greeted her in the elaborate southern fashion. His right arm swept a grand arc from above before circling behind his back. The display drew eyes from across the square. Louis ignored the attention, took Monica's hand, and kissed the back of it. She tried to pull away, but his smile deepened as he held her grip.
“Where is Garcia?”
She instinctively knew he wouldn't be coming today. He claimed not to know Louis, yet he clearly did.
“What if I don’t show up?”
“Garcia? Do you mean you had an arrangement with Garcia today at Argent?”
“I did. I didn't expect you to come instead.”
Surprised, Louis immediately softened his brows and pretended to be sad.
“Does that mean you're disappointed to see me?”
“Of course not, Louis.”
Monica squirmed, trying to free her hand from Louis’ grasp. He noticed the sweat on her palm, smiled, and let go. She rubbed her hand on her waist.
“So the two of you do know each other.”
“That’s right, we're inseparable.”
“...Garcia didn't say that.”
Louis's smile deepened.
“What did he say?”
That you're an unpleasant bastard.
But she couldn't say it aloud, and instead laughed awkwardly. Louis seemed to read her mind.
“It’s alright. Garcia couldn’t make it today, so he sent me instead.”
“Instead?”
“Yes.”
Monica held out her right palm. Louis stared at it for a moment.
“Oh.”
He took her hand, and kissed the centre of her palm.
“Eek!”
The sudden warmth of his breath against her skin made her let out a small shriek. Louis blinked.
“It wasn’t this?”
“…You said Garcia sent you. Didn’t you know why we were meeting?”
“Of course I do.”
Louis’ blue eyes sparkled mischievously.
“He said you hurt your palm because of him. Wasn't I supposed to blow on it to make it better?”
“No!”
“I’m sorry. I actually do know.”
Monica's eyes narrowed.
Right, I forgot this man’s a flirt.
He shared Garcia's face but radiated a completely different, sunnier charm.
“I saw it. Sixty shillings for a ribbon, a torn dress, and a scraped knee.”
“You saw it?”
“I apologise, I meant I heard about it. But a gentleman can't simply hand a lady some cash. My pride wouldn't allow it.”
He was smoothing things over far too skilfully. But before Monica could protest, he was already leading her away.
“I had no idea the lady Garcia troubled was you. Based on his description, I expected...”
“Expected what?”
“...To be a very beautiful lady! And my guess was right!”
Monica caught that small pause. He tried to gloss over it with a cheerful laugh, but eventually admitted that Garcia's instructions were to meet a ‘mad horse-tail girl’.
Monica made a silent vow. If she ever met Garcia again, she would grab him by the collar.
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