Gentle Madness

The Countess Lambroise, when asked again, did not look the least bit surprised. It was hardly unusual for noblewomen of this era to marry at such a young age. To be sure, with women's education expanding, delayed marriages had become commonplace — but girls of the provincial nobility mostly wed early. The capital was comparatively slower about it. Kasika was a daughter of the capital, and yet she was marrying young. As Kasika nodded, the Countess tilted her head and said, "I see," with a look of genuine regret.

"Once you're married, I suppose you can't come as a governess anymore."

"No. The distance alone would make it impossible, quite apart from everything else."

"And which family is it?"

"The House of Marquis Lamplis."

"...The marcher lordship near the border. Lamplis, you say."

Madame Lambroise's eyes narrowed slightly. Evidently she had heard the rumors.

"That is not a good match."

Of course it wasn't. Kasika had never once harbored the expectation that her marriage would be a good one. She had certainly considered the possibility of being sold off to some other family — but even so, she had never imagined that Count Elpertz would settle on Lamplis.

Madame Lambroise asked, "How old are you this year?"

"Nineteen. I turn twenty next week."

"......."

Even to the Countess, it seemed, the arrangement looked wrong. An unidentifiable pity was readable in her eyes. But Kasika did not care. Rather than stay on with the Elpertz household like this, watching the family collapse while she tutored for her keep, going to Lamplis was not such a bad option. However long the old Marquis clung to life, it would only be a few years anyway.

"If you wished it, I could look into a suitable position for you on our side. With the Elpertz name behind you, doors would open."

"No, thank you. I'm quite content."

"They say the Marquis of Lamplis is past seventy now."

"Yes, I'm aware."

Once the Marquis died, Kasika's goal was to squander his estate in solitude and die alone of old age. At the quiet firmness of her answer, the Countess laughed in a way that suggested she did not quite know what to do with her.

"Noah is going to be terribly heartbroken."

"He'll be off to the Academy soon. He'll have no trouble making new friends."

"...Yes. Of course he will."

The Countess seemed to have something more she wished to say, but she left it unsaid. Kasika noticed, and did not ask. They had never been an especially close household to begin with. If anything, it had been strange that they had given her the governess position at all. But back then, Kasika had been in no position to refuse. Money, for a person trying to live, mattered a great deal.

"When do you leave?" the Countess asked.

"This weekend," Kasika answered.

"I can stay through Friday. I'm sorry to give you such late notice, but I only learned of it myself yesterday."

"...There's nothing to be done, I suppose."

And then, with a faintly troubled look, Madame Lambroise murmured softly, "What am I to do about Noah." Said just loudly enough to be heard. And what exactly am I supposed to do with that? Kasika thought. Noah Lambroise was going to the Academy, and that was that.

Madame Lambroise studied Kasika's expressionless face and ventured, "Miss Elpertz, if there is anything I could do to help—" but Kasika cut her off decisively.

"You're very kind, Countess, but there's no need. You've helped me a great deal all this time. I'm always grateful."

"...Yes. I see."

Her face remained unconvinced.

Was she worried that Noah Lambroise might fail to adjust at the Academy? But Kasika had taught him well enough that he would not be floundering for years even after enrolling. Etiquette above all.

The House of Elpertz was an old family, and if they knew nothing else, their etiquette had been maintained for centuries. Stuffy, but elegant and classical. Noah Lambroise had been a diligent student with genuinely good habits of study, and even his manner of speaking had shed its boyishness and taken on a certain polish.

"Have you told Noah yet?"

"No."

There hadn't been time. When Kasika turned to the Countess and said, "Please convey the news to him yourself," the lady's face went blank with discomposure. Perhaps it was trouble, or perhaps the face of someone who found herself suddenly inconvenienced. It was no concern of Kasika's. She looked down quietly at the teacup set before her.

An expensive teacup. A lavish mansion. A world that had nothing to do with her.

If I had been born in a place like this, my life would have been different too. It was a speculation about something that could never be.

It was the last lesson.

The last visit to the Lambroise townhouse in the capital as well.

Kasika looked over the assignment Noah had prepared. It was not bad.

At this level he'd rank among the genuine prodigies even at the Academy. Sharp mind to boot. Insufferable, as expected.

"Teacher."

Noah called to her, but Kasika did not answer. He called again — Teacher — toward her bowed head as she read through his work. Only then did she lift her gaze.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?"

Kasika's eyes moved from the assignment to Noah.

"You did very well. Clever as ever."

"That's not what I mean."

Noah shut his mouth, then opened it again.

"You're getting married."

"Yes. This weekend. Today is my last lesson."

"...You said you would stay with me."

"I never said any such thing," Kasika replied.

Noah Lambroise looked at her with a wounded face. Somewhere, apparently, there was an error in the record. And the error was not on Kasika's side — it was Noah who carried it.

"Noah told me he wished I would stay with him. He never once asked me to stay, and I never once agreed."

Noah bit his lip. Tears welled in his eyes.

Why on earth is he crying?

Kasika regarded him with a look of pure incomprehension. Ah. Is this what Madame Lambroise was fretting about two days ago? Perhaps the boy really did have a problem with attachment.

Come to think of it, the Lambroises — busy chasing money in a most unaristocratic fashion — might well have neglected the raising of their children. So that was why they had hired a noblewoman's daughter as a governess. That was a bit much, honestly. For what they were paying, they could have fetched a decent professor from anywhere.

Admittedly, it was thanks to the Lambroises and their heedless spending that the House of Elpertz could eat at all — but one could not deny how unlike nobility they were.

Well, he'll be different once he's among his peers, surely.

He was a Lambroise, after all. Send him where the children gathered, and his social sense would develop on its own.

"Three years is a long time to spend together — I understand you'll miss me. But friends can be made at any time, young Lord Lambroise."

"Noah."

"Yes. Noah."

At her words, Noah exhaled as though a hand around his throat had loosened. Kasika turned the page. The essay's substance was good, and the hand itself was fine as well. Strict professors graded penmanship too. This would pass without issue.

"Where are you going?"

"You, my lord, are going to the Royal Academy."

"Not me. You."

"If you're asking about me — I'm going to the House of Marquis Lamplis."

"The Marquis of Lamplis is seventy-two!"

"He is."

Kasika answered and lifted her head. At her face — which plainly asked whether that was supposed to be a problem — the tears spilled down Noah's cheeks in earnest.

"You're... you're only nineteen, Teacher."

"Yes. Twenty next week."

Twenty, nineteen — to a seventy-two-year-old man, both were immeasurably distant. It would not have been strange if the Marquis had a granddaughter older than she was. Noah hung his head, as though he were the young bride being sold off, and wept.

"Why — why that family, of all families?"

"Who can say."

"At least — at least with someone you love—"

At that, Kasika let out a small laugh.

At least marry someone you love — what? Is that what he means to say?

"I hope such a chance finds you someday, Noah."

"...Teacher."

"Even as a second son, it won't be easy for you. You're a count's child. Still, who knows — perhaps you'll meet someone you love in a household suitable for marriage. And if not that, you can always keep someone you love as a mistress."

"I... I don't want anything like that," Noah said.

Whether you want it or not, the world does as it does, Kasika thought.

"I don't want to keep a mistress, or anything of the sort."

At the sight of the weeping boy, Kasika offered a comfort that was not quite a comfort.

"You're only young, that's all. One marries not the person one loves but the person whose interests align with one's own — and the person you love is kept on the side. That's simply how it's done."

Whether that would console him, she could not say. Noah wept like a man wounded to the quick.

"Don't go."

She was the one being sold off — so why was this boy crying so wretchedly?

"Stay in the capital, Teacher."

"I've already said that I'm going. Now then — may we continue the lesson?"

"This is not about the lesson!"

"Then what is it about?"

"......."

Noah could not answer. He opened and closed his mouth several times as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came.

"It's our last lesson. Focus."

"Don't go, Teacher."

Kasika clicked her tongue. It was going to be the same words in a circle, over and over. It was the last day anyway — perhaps she should simply write the day off? That might be the kinder course; the lesson would get nowhere like this. Kasika spoke.