The Husband-Snatcher's Song

I had already settled on a title.

It sounded as if my feelings had gone into it. They had not.

I lifted a finger and turned the page. In a tidy hand, the letter was busy worrying over me.

Romeo—my classmate from the Academy, my dearest friend, and the man who would one day be this country's empress.

At this point in my life I was a puppet of the ducal house, a hatchling duchess whom even the maids looked down on, and I did not have a single coin of budget I could spend as I pleased. A scandal would drop the standing of House Parnel straight through the floor, and if anyone traced where the money had gone and my name surfaced, I would be in trouble. So I had chosen to ask Romeo. The third son of a wealthy count's house, he was deeply versed in the arts—versed enough that the family kept minstrels of its own under patronage.

To the worried Romeo, I wrote back as follows.

Once the envelope was sealed tight, I let out a sigh. My heart pounded like a child who had just done something wicked. It was not an unpleasant pounding. I smiled, taking my time.

"Good. If a song like that is making the rounds and he still doesn't come looking for me, then he isn't right in the head."

So thinking, I waited for the song to spread far and wide, and for Ian to find me quickly.

Three days passed that way.

I had just begun to think it was about time he came, when the person who arrived was entirely the wrong one.

"You damned little wretch!!"

I had been curled under the blankets, unable to bear the cold, and I peered through narrowed eyes at the vigorous middle-aged woman bursting through the door. James's birth mother. The Unlettered Shrew.

Face flushed a furious red, she strode over, snatched the blanket from my hands with a flick, and shouted.

"What kind of conduct is this, that a song that shameless is going around the marketplace?!"

"Mother."

I was freezing to death, and she had taken the blanket too. Wasn't this a bit much? Or else issue me the same thick velvet gown you're wearing.

Anger surged, but I swallowed it. The day I would leave this miserable house was not far off. There was no need to sour these nuisances and make my treatment any worse. I blinked my long lashes with an innocent look and asked.

"I don't even know which song you mean. You know I never take a single step outside my room."

"Th-then...!"

The Unlettered Shrew was struck speechless. There was not a speck of falsehood in what I had said. Mindful of the song, I truly had not set one foot outside my room. I had even stopped the occasional stealthy trip to the kitchen to steal food. Finding nothing to throw back at me, she hesitated, then finally shrieked.

"How can smoke rise from a chimney where there's no fire?!"

"Oh my. I had no idea you were a devotee of proverbs so lacking in refinement."

She knew a proverb like that? That surprises me more.

Astonished that the Unlettered Shrew knew more than I had credited, I soothed her anger in a gentle voice. I wanted a better sense of what was happening outside, and more information with it.

"I don't understand why you're so angry, but please calm yourself."

"Calm? Do I look like I can be calm! Filth has been splashed across my precious son's name!"

I wanted to ask what that had to do with me, and swallowed that too. I was learning for the first time how wide my patience ran. Keep pressing it down like this and I would tamp myself into a rice cake. I crushed the urge to throw her out at once and burrow back under the blanket, and asked in a coaxing tone.

"Whatever is the matter, then?"

"At the tea party your eldest sister-in-law attended today, every one of the ladies was talking! They say you and Grand Duke Tyrone are carrying on!"

"Grand Duke Tyrone?"

I covered my mouth with my palm, the better to look shocked, and hid the laugh that tried to escape.

Eldest sister-in-law. A tea party. The Elegant Shrew would be furious as well. She was a woman convinced she was the most elegant, most magnificent creature in the world. In this household she was the only one who went out into society—cunning as a fox, and with a tongue just as flexible, so that she held a passable place there. And then, on one of her rare outings, suppose every voice in the room was buzzing about nothing but the daughter-in-law's faithlessness? That heaven-high pride of hers would have come crashing down. I wish I could have seen that twisted face.

It would have kept me amused for a week. A pity. Thinking so, I lowered my eyes. Inside I was ready to leap for joy, but with my gaze cast down so mournfully, I must have looked like the most pitiful woman in the world.

"Goodness. You mean a rumor like that is going around? It would be awkward for me, of course—but His Grace the Grand Duke of Tyrone must be in quite a difficult position as well."

The words turned the Unlettered Shrew's stomach properly. She started hopping again and screamed.

"Difficult can freeze and die! What am I supposed to do about my son, with his name in every ignoramus's mouth?! He's fighting hard on the battlefield, and instead of support he gets some bizarre disgrace stuck to him!"

What was she even saying? Apologize to those ignoramuses this instant. I have never in my life met anyone more ignorant than Third Mother.

If something displeased her, she thought nothing of seizing her daughter-in-law by the hair, whether the servants were watching or not. Flinging everything on the table and raising hell was hardly a once-or-twice affair. Whatever you imagined, the physical rampage this fine lady committed went beyond it. I wanted to scratch at her lightly and get a rise, but I might catch a blow for nothing, so I had to endure. Thinking so, I offered her a soft smile.

As it happened, I had just begun to grow anxious, because there had still been no word at all from Ian.

"Strange, that such a rumor should spread when I've been shut in this room. I suppose I ought to see the man."

And so I sent Grand Duke Ian Tyrone a letter, asking to see him.

He was absolutely not the sort of man to grant a demand like that. The song must have nettled him considerably, though, for the reply came quickly.

Aramir was the most famous tea salon in the capital, a place that kept both an open hall and private rooms. He'll have reserved the open hall. I could feel the intention in it: my entrance and our conversation alike would be on display before everyone, so that no one could nurse a baseless suspicion. A good choice.

The other party was, after all, the National Impotent. I could sense his confidence that a single remark—that it hadn't stood for him this time, either—would be enough to smooth the whole affair away. Even so, the situation was not disadvantageous only to me.

A line from the latest of Romeo's letters. What he meant was, Your little farce is getting this big. What do you intend to do? For me, it was not a bad state of affairs.

The Emperor has surely called his cousin in and asked at least once. Is the rumor true? You said you don't rise for any woman—do you rise for the Duchess of Parnel? If Ian said he meant to marry, the Emperor would support him with everything he had.

The Emperor was the person most devastated by the fact that his one and only cousin was impotent. Even twenty years later, whenever he was bored, he would lament, "I do wish my cousin would marry before I die."

So everything now depends on me.

The wind had changed. All that remained was for Ian to say, with his own mouth, that he wanted to marry. I have to persuade him. No matter what.

I gathered my slipping silver hair into a neat half-up and took the finest dress from the wardrobe. The earrings and the necklace were all so paltry that I boldly chose to wear nothing at all. In the mirror, a woman of twenty—no wrinkles, no white hairs—looked straight ahead, crimson eyes shining with nerve.

"......Good."

What could possibly be harder than living those twenty years of hell all over again? To avoid that, there was nothing I couldn't do. I nodded once and stepped out of the room.

"That's the seal of House Parnel."

"Then that woman is..."

When I stepped down from the Parnel carriage at Aramir, I felt gazes stab into my face. I lifted my chin with composure. Ignoring the stinging looks was not difficult in the least. How many years have I spent out in the world?

High society was a place where every sort of rumor made the rounds. Even I had suffered terribly, back when I drove the Elegant Shrew out, because of the rumors she spread. What was it—an insolent creature who knew neither up nor down, an unfilial wretch? Those rumors had made life very hard and very painful then, but once they passed, they were nothing. If anything, they helped the composure I wore now. So there's nothing in a life that ought to be thrown away.

Entertaining a thought rather like an old woman's, I went into Aramir.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. Under Grand Duke Ian Tyrone."

"Ah, about that..."

As I had expected, the table he had reserved was in the open hall. The manager looked somewhat awkward at my words. Only after I swept the hall with my eyes did I understand why. He isn't here yet.

Grand Duke Tyrone, who by rights ought to have arrived ahead of a lady and been waiting, was nowhere to be seen. A contest of nerves? Making a lady wait was a considerable discourtesy, and in a situation like today's especially, the sight of me sitting alone while I waited for him could become delightful prey for the public. They'll all have a grand time tearing in, chewing, tasting, and savoring.

If the others saw me seated by myself, rumors would fly that I was burning with impatience, or pining away out of admiration for Grand Duke Tyrone. A man with his long experience of society could not fail to know that. But if this was an attempt to crush my spirit, he had misjudged his opponent by a very wide margin.

"So, what is the tea course?"

"Pardon?"

The manager looked startled. Made to look a fool, I was apparently expected to storm out of my seat—not to order tea. A tea course, no less, in which one drank several kinds. To the man staring at me with his mouth open, I spoke each word with crisp precision.

"If you make me repeat myself, I suspect I shall be gravely disappointed in this establishment. I asked what the tea course is."

Only then did he come to his senses and assume the solemn expression proper to the manager of a famous tea salon.

"Ah—our tea master has prepared a course of six carefully chosen teas. The varieties are listed in this booklet."

"Lovely."

I took the small booklet he offered and stepped boldly into the shop. I wanted tea anyway.

In my previous life, drinking tea had been my hobby. But I had become a neglected hatchling of a duchess all over again, and so I could not drink it. Fine tea leaves were expensive, and in the present House of Parnel the Elegant Shrew had them all to herself. I'll drink my fill while I have the chance.