Chapter 465 - Chaperoned
Evelyne maintained her polite smile as she stayed beside Lady Withersworth, exchanging greetings with old and new acquaintances alike.
It was similar to the kinds of interactions she had grown accustomed to, but also subtly different. In the past, older and more influential nobles had generally treated her with distant courtesy at best. In recent months, that had shifted somewhat, thanks in no small part to Scarlett’s actions and their barony’s rise in prominence. More people now seemed willing to take an interest in Evelyne, whether out of genuine respect or because they believed some opportunity might be found through her.
But with Lady Withersworth, many of the nobles they spoke with treated Evelyne less like some random girl or Scarlett’s younger sister and more like a promising young relative being ushered into their circles. Their smiles came more easily. Their questions were warmer. A few even made light jokes with her in a manner that would have seemed unthinkably familiar not that long ago.
Evelyne had seen Lady Withersworth handle herself at social gatherings before, of course. Still, it struck her now just how great the difference truly could be between a rising noble who commanded recognition through reputation, wealth, or achievement, and one who had spent decades cultivating personal ties with these people and their families.
She wasn’t sure which carried more weight in the empire’s current political climate, but in recent weeks especially, it had become clear how much one could accomplish when possessing both.
In just the past couple of days, Evelyne had watched Lady Withersworth persuade counts into offering support with no more than a few well-placed words and a familiar smile, securing agreements that might otherwise have required Evelyne days of negotiating concessions and exchanges.
It might almost have been amusing if she hadn’t been spending so much of her time trying to observe and learn from the woman’s every interaction that she barely had the attention left to appreciate it. She was deeply grateful that Lady Withersworth had offered her these opportunities, and during today’s proceedings in particular, she didn’t intend to waste them.
Even when it threatened to cause her a headache, she focused closely on how the woman interacted with those around her and how she pulled others into conversations that felt both natural and engaging.
They were in the middle of speaking with an older couple, a viscount and his wife, who had approached them near one of the garden’s fountains. The viscount was thanking Evelyne for the aid she and Scarlett had provided to settlements under his authority through their relief efforts, prompted by one of Lady Withersworth’s remarks.
It was one of many variations on the same sentiment Evelyne had already heard today.
She tried to always be polite in response, nodding and explaining that they didn’t expect anything in return. They were simply thankful that as many of the empire’s citizens as possible were safe.
Those were words she genuinely believed. They were also the sort of words one was supposed to say in circumstances like this, which made it important that she said them well.
But she didn’t know why, this time, her attention wandered before the viscount had finished speaking.
It settled on his moustache.
Evelyne had noticed it the moment the couple approached. It would have been difficult not to. The thing was thick and elaborately shaped, with two long ends curled upwards in such a precise manner that she could only imagine the amount of effort required to maintain it. It sat beneath his nose with an almost dignified severity, except that whenever he spoke, the curled ends trembled faintly with every other word.
It might have been one of the most bizarre moustaches she had ever seen.
The viscount’s words gradually faded into the background as Evelyne found herself wondering whether he shaped it himself each morning. Then she wondered how long it took.
The moustache went still.
Evelyne realised the viscount had stopped talking.
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. One of his brows had risen ever so slightly, while the viscountess beside him wore a small smile.
Heat rose to Evelyne’s face.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “My attention slipped for a moment. Would you mind repeating that last part?”
The viscount gave a small, good-natured huff before doing so, and Evelyne made a very deliberate effort to keep her eyes above his upper lip for the remainder of the conversation.
Thankfully, Lady Withersworth smoothly brought the exchange to an end soon after, offering the couple a few warm words before leading Evelyne away.
They moved towards a quieter terrace bordered by beds of pale flowers, where a serving table had been placed beneath the spreading shade of a small tree. Several glasses of wine and fruit water stood arranged beside plates of light pastries and sliced fruit.
Lady Withersworth stopped beside the table and set down her nearly empty glass. When she turned to Evelyne, her eyes were crinkled with gentle amusement.
“Are the introductions getting to you, dear?”
Evelyne shook her head lightly. “No, not at all. I’m simply not used to having someone guide me through these occasions.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you just now. I know the Viscountess Blackwood is an old friend of yours.”
Lady Withersworth hid a soft laugh behind one hand, then waved the matter aside.
“Oh, don’t apologise. Seymour has always had questionable judgement where that moustache of his is concerned. Erna has threatened to cut it off in his sleep more times than I can remember, though she has never quite had the heart to follow through.” Her smile widened slightly. “She is very understanding when others find it distracting.”
Evelyne let out a small, awkward chuckle. “Still, it was improper of me.”
“Certainly. But that is what I’m here for.” Lady Withersworth reached for a fresh glass from the table. “My own daughter is long past the age where she has any patience for me leading her around at events like these, so it is just as well that I get to indulge myself with you instead.”
Evelyne regarded her for a moment, a smile touching her own lips as she set her half-empty glass down on the table.
“Thank you.”
Having an older, more seasoned noblewoman guide her through an occasion like this was something Evelyne had never thought she would get to experience.
Even if her own mother had still been alive, she would barely have been welcome at gatherings such as this. Lady Withersworth was showing her a kindness that went beyond what was required of her, even with the ties that now existed between their houses. In the end, Scarlett was the one who truly had something to offer the Withersworths in exchange for their support. The most Evelyne could do was make the most of the chance she had been given, learn what she could, and hope that one day she would be able to return the favour in some form.
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Lady Withersworth’s eyes stayed on her as Evelyne let her gaze drift over the terraces of Rosalind’s Garden, watching the groups of nobles and officials moving between them. Everywhere she looked, people were talking, smiling, bowing, and laughing.
A slow breath escaped her before she could stop it.
“Are you tired?” Lady Withersworth asked.
Evelyne turned back to her.
“Tired? No. If you mean what happened earlier, I simply let my attention slip for a moment. I won’t let it happen again.”
“It’s okay to be tired, dear. It isn’t a sin.”
“The day has barely started. I promise you, I am alright.”
“It may be early, but you have been working constantly for days now, haven’t you?”
“I have been careful to get enough sleep.”
Unlike Scarlett, Evelyne actually paid attention to the needs of her own body without others having to remind her to eat or sleep.
Lady Withersworth sighed softly. “Dear, looking after yourself requires more than simply getting enough hours in bed. Compared to me, who has mostly spent the last few days visiting old friends here in Elystead, you have had far more on your shoulders. More than you should, if I’m being honest.” She gave Evelyne a pointed look. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how closely you’ve been watching every interaction we’ve had today. At this rate, you’re liable to wear yourself out before the ceremonies even begin.”
“I—I’m really not.”
“Yes, yes. I’m sure you can grit your teeth and push through the day if you need to. But you really should reconsider how readily you push yourself that far in the first place.” The older woman shook her head, an exasperated fondness entering her expression. “I say, is it something in your blood? You and that sister of yours really are alike.”
Evelyne blinked, her lips parting briefly before closing again.
Lady Withersworth smiled. She reached out and gently patted Evelyne’s cheek.
“You are cuter than she is, though. And much better at listening, I’ve noticed.”
Evelyne’s face warmed slightly. Before she could think of what to say in response, Lady Withersworth picked up a full glass from the table and turned away.
“Why don’t you take some time to rest? I will go and keep the wheels turning, so to speak, and perhaps find where that lump of a husband of mine is hiding.”
“I—” Evelyne started, but the woman raised a hand to stop her.
“No one will mind, dear. And I think we have laid more than enough groundwork for your sister’s purposes later today.”
Evelyne fell silent.
Lady Withersworth gave her one last smile before leaving her by the table.
Evelyne watched the woman cross one of the arched bridges leading to the neighbouring terraces, following her progress through the garden until she disappeared among a larger gathering of nobles.
For a while, she simply stood there.
An attendant carrying a tray of glasses eventually approached, and Evelyne offered him a small smile as he bowed. He gathered Lady Withersworth’s abandoned glass along with Evelyne’s own and replaced them with fresh ones before continuing on through the garden.
Evelyne stayed where she was for a little longer. A small group of young women near her own age wandered onto the terrace, speaking and laughing among themselves as they each carried drinks in hand. A few of them cast brief glances in Evelyne’s direction, not unfriendly, but clearly curious why she was standing there by herself.
Feeling unsure and somewhat embarrassed, Evelyne chose to leave.
She made her way along one of the quieter paths connecting the less crowded terraces, resisting the urge to return immediately to the nearest conversation. Lady Withersworth would probably notice if Evelyne ignored her advice within minutes of receiving it, and the thought of the older woman’s mildly disapproving gaze was unexpectedly effective at keeping her away.
Instead, she allowed herself to wander.
It took a little while before the awkwardness of having nowhere in particular to be started to fade. Gradually, she fell into a slow rhythm, passing between terraces and stopping on occasion to admire some arrangement of flowers or a sculpture set between the garden’s fountains.
Before she knew it, she had ended up on a broad terrace near the far wall of glass overlooking Rellaria Lake. The water stretched out beneath the bright sky, sunlight glinting across its surface while the distant shape of Beld Thylelion sat upon it like something from an old master’s painting.
Evelyne stood near the balustrade, simply looking out over the view as she listened to the gentle notes of a small ensemble performing on a higher terrace nearby.
Her thoughts eventually drifted to how things were going for Scarlett.
She had spotted her sister a few times while making the rounds with Lady Withersworth, but at some point, Scarlett had disappeared from view. That wasn’t necessarily strange. Rosalind’s Garden was enormous and held several tiers. Even with a decent number of the empire’s nobles not present, there were more people gathered here than Evelyne could keep track of.
Still, it worried her slightly.
When she had asked Scarlett about her plans for today, her sister had been more guarded than usual. Like she was planning something she already knew Evelyne wouldn’t appreciate.
With Scarlett, there could always be half a dozen reasons she chose not to share something. But Evelyne had learned to recognise some of the signs.
A surprising number of times, she had realised, Scarlett’s reluctance to tell her things seemed to come from a desire not to make Evelyne worry over matters she couldn’t do anything about.
She wasn’t entirely convinced Scarlett herself was aware of that.
Evelyne was still deciding how she felt about it.
Today, though, she had chosen not to press the issue. Scarlett was staking a great deal on the proceedings here in Elystead, and Evelyne knew better than to add to her burdens simply to satisfy her own unease.
She only wished she could be of more help than she was.
As she stood there, her gaze caught on a flash of crimson on one of the nearby terraces.
After a moment’s consideration, she turned from the lake and began heading in that direction. She crossed one of the bridges linking the terraces, passing a group of older nobles who greeted her with polite nods that she returned automatically, her attention fixed on the figure she had spotted.
Scarlett had positioned herself near the edge of the terrace, partially obscured from much of the garden by a tall flowering tree and a broad marble statue that almost looked like it had been carved to support the tree’s weight on its back. It wasn’t a hiding place by any means, but it kept her removed enough from the busier flow of people that Evelyne might easily have missed her had she not happened to look in that direction.
Scarlett wasn’t alone, however.
A young noblewoman stood with her, perhaps a few years older than Evelyne, dressed in an elegant cream-coloured gown. She was smiling as she spoke, but there was a stiffness to it that took a moment to recognise. The sort of smile people wore when a conversation had become less pleasant than they expected.
Scarlett, meanwhile, looked entirely at ease.
That alone caught Evelyne’s attention.
Her sister had, over the past year, grown both better and worse at dealing with people. One of the more noticeable changes to Evelyne—one she suspected many others failed to notice—was that Scarlett now often carried herself through social occasions with a certain distance, as if she were enduring each exchange more than taking part in it.
Here, though, her posture was relaxed. One hand held a half-full glass of wine at her side, while the other rested lightly against the balustrade. There was even a small smile on her face as she listened to the woman in front of her.
A perfectly…natural smile, for lack of a better word.
And for some reason, the sight of it made Evelyne slow her steps.
“I only meant that it is rather admirable,” the other noblewoman was saying as Evelyne drew closer, “how much attention you have managed to draw to your barony in such a short span of time. Though I suppose those of us without such dramatic circumstances must be content with quieter accomplishments.”
Scarlett’s smile didn’t change.
“Yes,” she said. “I imagine that must be difficult for you.”
The young woman’s smile tightened.
Evelyne stopped a short distance away.
There was nothing especially improper in Scarlett’s words. Nothing anyone could reasonably take offence at without first admitting the insult that had prompted them.
But Evelyne knew that tone.
It carried a subtle edge that was almost impossible to object to, even as it remained pleasant and entirely composed.
It was a tone she hadn’t heard from Scarlett in quite some time.
A faint prickle travelled down her arms.
Scarlett’s gaze shifted.
For the briefest instant, her eyes settled on Evelyne. Something hard to describe flickered across her expression. It was gone before Evelyne could make sense of it, leaving her wondering whether she had imagined it.
Scarlett turned back to the woman in front of her. “Perhaps we can continue this discussion at another time.”
The other noblewoman glanced towards Evelyne. Whatever she had been holding behind her smile faded beneath a mask of courtesy.
“Of course.”
She gave Scarlett a polite dip of her head, then passed Evelyne with a far shallower acknowledgement before moving towards the bridge leading to the next terrace.
Evelyne returned the gesture, watching her leave before turning back to Scarlett.
Her sister was still looking after the departing woman, but the smile had left her face. The look that remained was colder than Evelyne was used to seeing from her these days. Sharper, too. For a moment, Scarlett seemed less like someone quietly removed from the gathering and more like someone regarding it from above, measuring every person in it against some private standard and finding them wanting.
Then her gaze moved to Evelyne.
“What is it?”