~Chapter 62~
“Of course. In Bella’s world, any young lady from a house with equal rank is automatically beneath her.”
Viviana clenched her teeth.
She had sensed something strange about Bella for a while, but brushed it off as her own misunderstanding. After hearing Harriet’s explanation, she realized it wasn’t a misunderstanding—it had been her instincts warning her.
“Unbelievable.”
“Actually… there’s already a rumor going around,” Harriet continued.
“They say you’ve been jealous of Bella for years because of your crush on Adam Hoffner.”
“People really believe that nonsense? I mean—this sounds ridiculous even to say, but—I was part of Bella’s inner circle. Why would I be jealous?”
“Was what they said about me any more believable? And yet everyone believed it.”
Viviana was at a loss for words.
Thinking back, it was easy to believe that people would accept such gossip about her as true—just as she had done with Harriet. Now, she was paying the price for judging Harriet too quickly.
“So now I have to either bow down and apologize to Bella… or be cast out of society?”
For a young lady of marriageable age, being rejected by society was nearly the worst fate imaginable.
The isolation, the whispers—it would be suffocating.
Harriet understood that feeling all too well.
Harriet understood exactly how Viviana felt. She herself had been mocked, ignored, and used as a scapegoat by Bella. She didn’t even have the freedom to breathe.
So she knew what Viviana most needed to hear.
“If you’re okay with it, I’ll stand by your side. I hope you won’t humiliate yourself by apologizing to Bella.”
Viviana’s eyes flickered with a swirl of emotions—surprise, doubt, gratitude, hope, guilt, and relief.
Which of those feelings she chose to act on was entirely up to her.
And after a pause, she made her choice.
“Then… does this mean we’re friends now?”
Harriet smiled gently and held out her hand.
“Can I call you Viviana?”
Viviana looked down at the offered hand, then smiled and took it.
“…Of course, Harriet.”
And in that moment, surrounded by the scent of strawberries in Harriet’s room, an alliance was formed.
***
Autumn passed all too quickly.
As the last leaves fell, cold northern winds swept through the streets.
By December, Genoa was swept up in a festive atmosphere.
The final week of the year was the Holy Week, a time of celebration and joy—not just for nobles, but for all people across the empire.
“Did everything arrive for your Holy Week wardrobe?”
“Yes, great-aunt. Thanks to you, I’ll be able to wear something beautiful again this year. Thank you.”
“As I always say, this is just like dressing up a doll for me. You just need to keep looking pretty, and I’ll be satisfied.”
Harriet resisted the urge to mutter, ‘It would be nice if the doll were a little prettier, though.’
She knew she’d only get scolded for saying something “unnecessary.”
‘Great-aunt is truly a good person. Was it God’s grace that made me write to her first?’
Though she’d once seemed cold and sharp, Trisha had recently shown more warmth. They even shared jokes now and then.
Still, it worried Harriet that Trisha always had a blanket over her knees.
Harriet had found that same blanket under Trisha’s chair in the middle of summer, which meant she probably needed it all year-round.
‘I think she’s unwell, but she won’t say anything…’
Whenever Harriet asked, Trisha brushed it off:
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”—always turning the question back on her.
Even when she asked Roxsana or the butler, Andre, they would simply assure her everything was fine.
It felt rude to keep pressing someone who insisted they were okay.
But Harriet couldn’t help worrying.
After all, Trisha was the first real adult she’d been able to rely on since her parents died, and she wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.
“Harriet?”
“Yes?”
“What are you thinking about, not even hearing me call you?”
“D-Did you call me? I’m sorry!”
Trisha waved her hand lightly to stop Harriet from apologizing too much.
“I was just asking where you plan to visit during Holy Week.”
“Where will you be going, Great-Aunt?”
“Me? I always go to Saint Paolo’s Cathedral. But you don’t have to come with me. You should go wherever you wish.”
Harriet had already been thinking about that, now that Holy Week was approaching.
But if there was no need to accompany Trisha, her choice was clear.
“Then I think I’ll go to St. Clarissa Convent.”
“I thought so. Makes sense with your soap business and all.”
Harriet answered with only a smile.
Trisha gave a thoughtful “Hmm,” then looked more serious as she continued.
“It’s none of my business where you go. But for nobles, Holy Week is also an important time for socializing and building connections. That’s why the powerful families all go to the same big churches.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“If you’re giving up that kind of opportunity, then make sure you get something out of going to the convent. It doesn’t have to be something visible or profitable—but it shouldn’t be just emotional self-satisfaction either.”
“I understand.”
Harriet nodded with steady, determined eyes. She seemed sure of the path she’d chosen.
Trisha wondered if she’d been nagging too much—but in the end, she thought, maybe it was good for Harriet to have an old woman nearby to repeat the obvious once in a while.
***
As the end of the year approached, churches hoped to attract as many worshippers as possible during Holy Week.
For the powerful and wealthy, it was expected that the high priests themselves would reach out personally and encourage a visit—that was both courtesy and tradition.
After mass, as Benedict was leaving Arens Cathedral with some acquaintances, the high priest approached with a low bow.
“Heading home already, Lord Benedict?”
Everyone showered the priest with praise after the sermon, which the priest modestly waved off.
“It’s not my ability—it’s the strength of faith among our people. By the way, do you know yet where you’ll be spending Holy Week this year…?”
Though the question was veiled, it was clearly a request for commitment.
Still, no one found it awkward, since they were already planning to come to Arens.
Benedict was no exception.
“Of course I’ll be at Arens. You must be busy with preparations, with so many visitors expected.”
“It’s busy, yes, but a joy all the same. We’re always grateful to those who attend.”
“You’re so devoted, even with all the hard work. That’s why we all respect you so much.”
The priest smiled warmly at Benedict’s compliment, then subtly brought up what he truly wanted to ask.
“By the way, do you know which cathedral the Duke of Kailas usually attends? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard.”
Everyone’s gaze turned to Benedict.
He took a moment before answering, enjoying the attention.
“Ah, Cedric? I don’t think he’s settled on a particular place. But it’s not due to lack of faith—he’s just incredibly busy.”
“Of course, of course!”
The priest chuckled in agreement, then added with a hint of regret:
“Still, if someone like the duke were to visit our cathedral, it would surely inspire and bring good connections for the worshipers.”
“Indeed, it would.”
Benedict had noticed what the priest had been angling toward from the start—he was simply waiting for him to get desperate enough to say it out loud.
Sensing that, his acquaintances began chiming in:
“If the duke doesn’t have a regular place, Arens would be a great fit. Not quite as large as Elvinas or Saint Paolo, but far more focused on community-oriented. We’re not one of those outdated churches that just chant scriptures.”
“Exactly! And our worshippers collaborate on so many joint projects. We’re not stuck in the past—we’re building the empire’s future together.”
As they praised the cathedral, the high priest’s joy became increasingly obvious.
And once again, he turned expectantly to Benedict.
Finally, Benedict shrugged as if giving in.
“You’re right. A house like ours should have a designated place of worship. Until now, maybe he didn’t realize the importance—but it’s time that changed. I’ll speak to him.”
“You are truly wise and kind, Lord Benedict. The duke is lucky to have you—ha ha ha!”
They all exchanged pleasantries and went their separate ways in a friendly mood.
The next day, Benedict went straight to see Cedric. There wasn’t much time left before Holy Week, and he needed to persuade him quickly.
I am sure Cedric is going to the convent again 😏