Without even waiting for a response, Byletta pushed her husband back toward the carriage.
Upon her return to the manor house, Byletta exhaled deeply.
Every day was a hectic mess, a far cry from peace and tranquility, and all she wanted to do was scream that none of it was her job. She had not married the lord of these lands, but his son—at least on paper. Speaking of which, while she was happy that the actual lord had begun to gather documents and consider countermeasures, she still didn’t quite understand what on earth his son was doing here. Why had he decided to accompany them on this journey? Byletta couldn’t be sure and was thus still uncertain of his intentions.
Since Arnald had been following her and the count around as they completed their inspections, they’d been spending quite a lot of time together. Sometimes he impressed Byletta with his ability to consider various subjects from a military perspective, but his penchant for making a nuisance of himself by teasing her made her angry.
His presence alone was a problem. She couldn’t ignore him. It wasn’t as if they exchanged that many words or were joined at the hip day and night, but she found herself captured whenever her husband appeared and began talking. His calm tone was dignified and pleasant to listen to, so whenever his words graced her ear, she always ended up listening. And given almost all of what he said was designed to infuriate her, he’d left a lasting impression.
Whenever Byletta was alone in her room, unwanted thoughts always seemed to make their way into her head. Since she had a bit of time before dinner, she decided to put on a gown and go for a stroll in the garden instead. Usually, her stay at the Swangan estate only lasted for two to three days before she returned to the capital, so this was the first time she’d gotten the chance to properly explore the manor house.
Within the courtyard, away from the geometrically shaped lawns, was a small flower bed. As Byletta gazed at it, Bardu and the gardener approached.
“Lady Conia planted these flowers herself and took tender care of them right until the day she became sick. The species planted here now are the same as those she planted back then.”
“Indeed they are. That woman certainly knew her plants.”
Byletta was impressed by all the different kinds of flowers. They were small, well suited to the climate of the Swangan estate, and apparently bloomed throughout the changing of the seasons.
“You can just tell, can’t you, my lady?” Bardu asked. “How caring she was and how deep her love for the natural world ran.”
The gardener wrinkled his brow and nodded while the steward stared at the flower bed with a fond look on his face.
“It was unusual for the time, but she and the count married for love. They were a very happy family.”
“Really?”
I never would have guessed, Byletta mused, thinking of Count Swangan as she knew him now.
The gardener let out a merry laugh at Byletta’s surprise. “The younger servants always react that way, too. I suppose if you didn’t know him before, you wouldn’t be able to imagine it, either. The young lord is the spitting image of Lady Conia. Now that he’s grown, I can’t tell you how happy it makes us to see him. But it must be difficult for his father. He probably reminds the count of Her Ladyship.”
That the servants still called Arnald’s mother “Her Ladyship” was notable. It looked like they didn’t acknowledge Milena’s mother, who spent all her time back at the capital, as the current countess. It wasn’t really an issue since she didn’t come and visit the country estate, but the realization still made Byletta uncomfortable.
“Arnald stayed here when he was little, didn’t he?”
“That’s right. He was brought up in the manor from the day he was born, though he never returned here after he left to go to school in the capital. Actually, after Her Ladyship collapsed, he took over tending this flower bed. He often brought the flowers to his mother’s bedside.”
“He was a kind boy who loved his mother. It beggared belief when he became a soldier…,” the gardener said with a quivering voice, casting his eyes downward.
Byletta only knew her husband as a military man, so she found it unsurprising when others described him as cold or unfeeling. Even the way he’d abandoned her for eight years, only to pop back up with a strange wager and force her to consummate their marriage, felt like actions rooted in the rationalism of a soldier.
But to the servants who’d known him before, it seemed he was still the sweet young boy who’d taken care of his ailing mother. There was no way they could imagine that child going to war.
“People used to call him the Angel of Swangan Manor.”
“Ack…!”
Byletta choked, even though she wasn’t drinking anything.
A-an angel?
But Byletta did understand where the moniker could have come from. It wasn’t such an outrageous nickname for a beautiful little boy who brought flowers to his mother’s sickbed. Even now, if all you knew of him was his face, you might think him an angelic creature.
Byletta struggled not to laugh at the thought. The gardener and Bardu were being serious.
She decided to change the subject instead.
“B-by the way, about that letter I received a short while ago…”
Bardu sometimes sent reports on the estate to Byletta instead of the count. The reason for doing so was simple: Likely, if he did send a written petition to Count Swangan, it would simply go unread. As such, the steward and Byletta had essentially become pen pals. If there was something that she could help with, she typically did. But given that it was the count’s job to care for the estate and not hers, she tried to get involved as little as possible.
The letter that had arrived before the tax inspector’s visit had inquired about the possibility of purchasing sandbags to use in case the river overflowed. The request had made clear that even though there had been little rainfall and thus barely any flooding that year, it would be preferable if they took this opportunity to shore up the estate’s sandbag supplies while they could.