Chương 68: Chapter 69: “Pawlite Society (1)”

The carriage rolled at an even pace through the late afternoon. Celestia sat with one hand resting on her lap, the other using her fan to hold the edge of the curtain back a finger's width. The light outside fell long across the streets and pulled the shadow of the carriage out behind them on the cobblestones. The commercial district was getting farther behind at a steady pace, and soon, everything around started to change.

The road, which had been the standard quality of paving stone elsewhere in Summit, became smooth. The wheels of the carriage stopped catching on small pebbles, and the rocking that had been a constant companion to the ride had remarkably steadied. The scent within the air had also changed, it was the smell of cut grass and the faint perfume of flowering hedges. They were now in the Noble District. Walls began to appear along the sides of the road.

Behind them sat villas with broad courtyards, fountains visible through the iron gates, gardens trimmed into the shapes their owners had decided upon. Each estate occupied a section of land that, in the commercial side of the city, would have housed perhaps more than a few dozen families in close quarters. Celestia let the curtain fall.

'Such a waste of land.' She closed her eyes and rested her head briefly against the back of the seat. Across from her, Paimon was sitting upright, hands folded primly in her lap. She had been quiet for the entire ride, clearly fulfilling her role as Celestia's soon-to-be personal maid now. The carriage continued for another ten minutes. Then the wheels slowed, the driver called out to the gate, and a pair of household guards opened the iron gates without delay.

The carriage rolled through, up a curving drive lined with trimmed trees, and stopped at the front of a mansion. Paimon was the first one to step down from the carriage. She turned, and offered her hand to Celestia. Celestia took it, gathered the skirt of her dress with her free hand, and stepped down. The dress was a deep wine-dark color, cut in the style appropriate for an afternoon visit at a noble estate.

A short veil of matching fabric was pinned to the side of her hair, falling forward to cover the upper half of her face. The household staff was already lined up along the front steps. A butler bowed at the front of the line. Behind him stood a pair of footmen and a row of maids.

"Lady Reingarde. Welcome to the Hill estate." A maid stepped forward from the line, bowed, and gestured toward a path that led around the side of the manor.

"If it pleases Lady Reingarde, the tea is being held in the garden. Please allow me to guide you." Celestia inclined her head a fraction to agree, and the maid turned and began walking. She followed the maid along the gravel path. This whole affair was a tremendous waste of an afternoon. There were several contracts on her desk that needed her signature before tomorrow morning.

The mining preparation on Floor 11 had reached the point where the slaves she had sent up could now begin actual extraction within the week, which meant another batch of correspondence to handle. But this was how nobles worked. A favor had been promised. Beatrice's letter, sent some days earlier, had been worded with care; it did not state outright that today's tea party was the venue for collecting her side of their arrangement, but the implication was there.

And the letter had also made clear that several other guests would be present. Which meant that Beatrice wanted to be seen having good relations with her. That was the actual price of the day. Whatever Beatrice planned to formally ask for was secondary. What Beatrice was buying with her invitation was the social capital of having Celestia von Reingarde appear at her tea party. Celestia did not begrudge her this. After a light investigation, she knew the basics of Beatrice's circumstances.

If today's tea party was a step in rebuilding her standing, then so be it. The path curved around a hedge, and the garden appeared. A wide stretch of trimmed grass surrounded a centerpiece of stone fountains and flowerbeds, with smaller paths branching off toward arbors and shaded benches. At the far end, beneath the shade of an enormous parasol set over a long table, several women were gathered. The sound of their conversation reached Celestia before they came fully into view.

There was laughter, and the clink of porcelain. A voice rose above the others to deliver some apparently amusing remark, and several polite laughs followed. Celestia knew most of them by name and family from the records she had skimmed during her early weeks at Summit. The daughter of a Margrave to the south. Two from the smaller royal houses west outside of the imperial border. A pair of countess heirs whose families ran heavy trade through the city. One she didn't really recognize, and the other one…

was a rather huge surprise. And at the head of the table sat Beatrice Hill. She was holding a teacup partway to her mouth, and was in the middle of saying something that had the others laughing. The maid escorting Celestia stepped ahead of her, approached Beatrice from her side, and bent to whisper a few words in her ear. Beatrice's hand stopped. The teacup went down to its saucer with a small click. She turned her head, and she saw Celestia. This novel is published on a different platform.

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"Ohohoho!" Beatrice was already standing up from her chair.

"Lady Reingarde! How wonderful that you've come!" The other six heads at the table turned at once. Celestia stepped from the path onto the grass and approached the table. She inclined her head, the veil shifting forward with the movement.

"Lady Hill. Thank you for the invitation. Your letter was a pleasant surprise, and the day suits the garden quite well." A short silence followed. Celestia understood why. She had received a great many invitations to tea since arriving in Summit. Letters had been arriving at the dormitory almost weekly, each one inviting her to the gathering of one noblewoman or another. Celestia had ignored every single one of them. Most of the women at this table had likely sent her one of those letters at some point.

Some of them might have sent more than one, but none of them had ever received the response they had hoped for.

"Please, Lady Reingarde. We've kept a seat for you." A maid appeared at Celestia's side and gestured toward the chair beside Beatrice. Celestia walked over, allowed the maid to pull the chair out, and seated herself. Paimon took up a position several paces back from Celestia's chair, her gaze forward. Around the table, each of the other women had her own attendant standing in similar positions; a mix of maids, a pair of personal guards in light armor, and one older gentleman in a butler's uniform.

A maid stepped forward and poured tea into the cup before Celestia. The cup was a fine pale porcelain with a thin gold rim and a small floral pattern around the saucer. Celestia's eyes were elsewhere. At the far end of the table, opposite to her, sat a young woman with blonde hair combed into soft waves, framing an innocent face. She was dressed in pale blue, and her teacup was held perfectly still in her hands. Celestia had not expected to see her here.

'... What is she doing in Summit? Or had she always been here?' The young woman's eyes met Celestia's across the table, and her smile widened as if to greet her. Beatrice did not seem to notice the exchange between them. She had picked up the thread of her earlier conversation, addressing it to another woman around the table.

"As I was saying, Lady Belle. The Whitemoore girl was seen at the autumn ball on the arm of the third son of House Vaughan."

"No!" Lady Belle's hand went to her mouth.

"Truly?"

"Truly. My cousin saw it with her own two eyes."

"But… but is she not betrothed to the Marquis of Renford's heir?"

"That is precisely the issue." Beatrice picked up her teacup.

"Her engagement was announced not three months ago. And there she was, seen sharing a dance with House Vaughan's third." A murmur went up from the table.

"Oh dear," said one of the countesses.

"Has the Marquis been informed?" asked another.

"The Marquis was at the ball as well." Several gasps followed.

"He saw?"

"And he said nothing about it?" The conversation continued in this topic. Theories were exchanged about whether the Whitemoore girl had been pressured by her family or had acted on her own. The fortunes of the two houses were weighed against each other. Speculation followed about what the Marquis would do, and how soon. Celestia listened, and found this conversation to be far beneath her. Her teacup stayed untouched, and her eyes had not left the young woman. The young woman had not stopped watching her either.

Beatrice tapped a fingernail against the edge of her saucer, and the conversation slowed.

"Now, then." Beatrice set her cup down.

"I should not keep our distinguished guest waiting any longer. There is a matter I should bring forward, while we are all gathered." The table quieted further. Beatrice turned her head toward Celestia.

"Lady Reingarde. I shall not waste your afternoon with empty pleasantries. I wish to formally announce, with your gracious witness, that I shall be extending my regards to His Imperial Highness, Prince Damon."

'Ah. The favor. A public announcement with me as her witness. Quite clever of her.' The annulment had been public for months, but the rest of the noble girls who wanted to pursue the Imperial Prince had stayed silent. Most of them likely assumed it to be a ploy, and none had wanted to be the first to test what Celestia would do.

'You truly want him?' If Beatrice wished to walk into that, then so be it.

"Lady Hill." Celestia's voice carried easily across the table.

"Your candor honors me, and your suit honors His Highness. You have my regards in this matter, and I wish you every success." A small ripple went through the table. Even the young woman who Celestia was keeping her eye on had widened her eyes.

"Is that so, Lady Reingarde?" Her voice was light.

"I confess I am rather astonished. I had been under the impression that you remained quite taken with my brother. You have certainly changed, have you not?" Celestia turned her head toward her.

"I have simply opened my eyes to other matters of importance in this world, Your Highness Maribelle."

"Oh?" Maribelle tilted her head.

"Then I take it you deem the Imperial Family to be of lesser importance now?"

"Dear me." Celestia opened her fan slowly.

"Your Highness must be mistaken to think I could ever speak ill of the Empire. I merely meant that your brother is the one I hold to be of lesser importance." Several teacups paused around the table. Maribelle's smile stayed in place.

"How curious. There are those who would say that to dismiss a future emperor is to dismiss the empire itself."

"Then those people would do well to remember that a future emperor is not yet an emperor. And that a young lady's seeming words are not one to be enforced." Maribelle laughed.

"What a poet's distinction. I do believe you would have made an interesting sister-in-law."

"Your Highness flatters me. I would have made a difficult one."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt." Maribelle picked up her teacup again and held it without drinking.

"And tell me, Lady Reingarde, since your eyes have so recently opened, what matter is it that has so completely distracted you from my brother? It must be quite remarkable indeed, to outweigh an imperial union." The other women at the table had gone very still.

"Oh, the usual things, Your Highness." Celestia gave a small, modest tilt of her head.

"Embroidery, music, the improving of one's character."

"How wonderful." Maribelle's smile sharpened.

"I must say, your character has improved quite remarkably."

"Your Highness is too kind. I shall endeavor to live up to the standard you set." Both women raised their teacups at the same moment. The other women at the table watched in silence.