Lady To Queen Chapter 82

Chapter 82 – Thank You For Asking

Meanwhile, Patrizia looked pleased to see Petronilla when the latter arrived at the Imperial Palace later in the day.

“Nilla, you're late?” Patrizia inquired.

However, even with her bright greetings, Petronilla's expression was grim. Patrizia offered a calming smile.

“Look at me.”

“I guess you've done something?”

 

“Rizi—Your Majesty the Empress.” Petronilla hesitated at first, but continued on with stronger determination. “We might be able to destroy her completely.”

“I see.” Patrizia smiled and nodded. “I don't know what you found…but I can give a guess.”

It was about the relationship between Duke Ephreney and Rosemond. But that was not all.

Petronilla continued with an awkward voice. “If we finish Rosemond, Duke Ephreney will be over too.”

Patrizia looked interested. “…Is it that bad?” Her tone then turned casual. “However, it doesn't matter. All I want is the downfall of Rosemond. If Duke Ephreney is destroyed in the process, that means he's also guilty.”

Patrizia gave a languid smile and continued in a low murmur. “I don't care even if our opponent is Duke Witherford instead of Duke Ephreney.”

“It's better to read it once rather than hear it a hundred times.” Petronilla sent out all the ladies-in-waiting in the room, then handed all the letters she had brought from January's room to Patrizia. January's jewelry box contained letters roughly written down by Rosemond.

Patrizia accepted the letters—seventeen of them in total—and began to study them. Her regal expression began to twist when she got to the fourth letter, and by the ninth, she had on a look of disbelief. When she finally read the last letter…

 

“Hah.”

She burst out laughing like a madman.

“Hahahaha.”

Amazement was mixed in her laughter, as if to say, 'I was tricked.'

A deep grief loomed in Duke Ephreney's family with the death of their successor. Because the Young Master Henry was warm and kind to all, everyone paid tribute to his death—except for one person.

“Ahahahaha.”

January stifled the sound in her room, but then burst into a peal of low laughter. Henry was dead! The only successor to the Duchess was dead! Although Henry usually treated January with the utmost courtesy, as a stepmother January was not sympathetic enough to mourn for his death.

She smiled merrily as she thought about the upcoming situation—her son would be the official successor to the Duke, Rosemond would be crowned queen, and Duchess Ephreney would be dragged down. January was forced to quiet her laughter because if it was revealed, she would be kicked out.

-Knock knock.

At the sound, January hastily rearranged her expression into an appropriately mournful one. Her behavior was quite despicable, and if someone had watched her play-acting from beginning to end they would tremble at her audacity. She used her saliva to make tear marks and rubbed her eyes until they were red, as if she had lost her own child. Only after this careful application did she open the door. It was the butler standing outside.

“Butler, what's going on?”

He handed her a letter without saying a word. It was from the Imperial Palace—to be exact, it was a letter from Rosemond.

“This is a letter from Marchioness Ethylaire, Madame,” the butler said.

“Oh my, from the Marchioness herself?”

She took the letter with a startled expression. She held the sorrow in her eyes as she closed the door, but as soon as it clicked shut and the butler was out of view, a smile broadened on her face, and she opened the letter with a hum. Rosemond, why did this woman send letters so often? January read the contents written in fancy handwriting, then laughed again as if nothing happened.

“After three days…” she muttered.

Soon after, she began writing her own reply. Rosemond's letter had said that in three days, the Empress will return to the Imperial Palace from the Marquis' house. Rosemond requested that January ended her steps forever.

“It seems that the Young Master Ephreney died after all,” Petronilla announced in a gloomy voice. Henry had still been young. It saddened her that he had gone to heaven at a young age.

“Oh no,” Patrizia said regretfully. Duchess Ephreney must be in very bad shape.  “Did the Duchess return to her country right away?”

“Together with her son's body. The funeral is going to take place in her home country.”

“Oh, dear.” She expressed her regret once again, then turned her mind to the situation. The Duke's sole successor had died. So the only remaining successor is the little son of the mistress…

“Rizi,” Patrizia began.

“Yes?”

“Will Madame January's younger son become the next head of the family?”

Petronilla fell into silent thought for a while, then Patrizia called to her sister with her nickname.

“Nil.”

“Yes?”

“If the contents of these letters are true…” She held on to her words and continued. “Maybe it won't become true.”

“What do you mean?”

“If things go as we expected, the Duchess will probably adopt a child. The next successor to the family will be the one she wants.”

“The Duchess has every right to do so,” Petronilla said, nodding with agreement.

Duchess Ephreney did not take her husband's family name. She was a young lady of the Ephreney family, and her husband had been the young lord of another baron. In a way, it was only natural that the young lord followed his wife's family name, not his own. He originally took over as Marquis Ephreney, since his wife was the sole daughter of the Ephreney family.

Later, he was established as a Duke. Duchess Ephreney did not challenge her husband's position because she loved him, but if things went awry, he would have to return his title. If that was the case, January was about as effective as a chicken chasing a dog.

Patrizia spoke. “I cannot prepare for this alone. We need to get help from Duke Witherford.”

“I agree, Rizi. If you were to reveal it yourself, there would be room for doubt. Everyone thinks you can't be neutral about Rosemond anyway.”

Patrizia came to a decision. “Mirya.” There was no need to wait for the moment of destruction to ripen. How much pain would she endure and how many years would she wait for that? It was better if she acted now. It would be difficult if January started to notice what Petronilla was doing, and they had to act preemptively.

“Call Duke Witherford. Tell him I'd like to see him at his convenience,” Patrizia ordered.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will obey.”

Petronilla turned towards Patrizia. “I heard you'll be visiting home in two days?” she asked, repeating something she had heard from Raphaella.

Patrizia nodded. “It's Mother's birthday and, most of all, I've been neglecting my family as of late.”

“They will understand. It's not a flaw to visit. It's not like there's any problem.”

“…Yes. I think so,” Patrizia murmured, leaning gently against the back of the chair where she was sitting. “I miss you, Mother, Father.”

Duke Witherford sent a letter of reply, indicating he would have an audience with Patrizia the next afternoon. She gave a troubled look when she received the letter. They were now tangled up in a difficult matter, but it was something that would have happened someday. If so, it had to be dealt with effectively, not just cast aside and forgotten.

Patrizia gave a sigh as she walked through the garden. “I need to find out.”

“About what, Rizi?”

“About this matter.” She emphasized her words.  “I need more accurate evidence. A piece of solid evidence to put this matter on the…”

Patrizia stopped talking. A stranger caught her eyes—no, it felt a little strange to call him a stranger. Patrizia hesitated a little, but soon simply greeted him.

“Your Majesty the Emperor.”

“Your Majesty the Queen.”

Lucio awkwardly turned his eyes away. The two had never met since the incident that day. Patrizia felt uncomfortable at this encounter, but she simply lowered her head.

“Hmm…Are you well?” Lucio asked. He regretted his stupidity right after he said it. Was that all he had to say? While he was constantly kicking himself in his mind, Patrizia answered him straightforwardly.

“Yes.”

Lucio was speechless at her perfect, short answer. If he let this happen, the conversation would end her. She would not want to talk to him in the first place, and he would look foolish trying to keep the conversation alive. Then, miraculously, a voice replied.

“How—” she started.

“…huh?”

“—is your condition?” she asked him calmly, without any emotion at all. For Lucio, however, nothing was more glorious than that. He answered her question quickly.

“I'm fine.”

“Thank you for asking.”

“…Yes.”

After that, Patrizia began to walk forward again. Lucio quickly caught Patrizia before she could go the other way.

“Queen!”

“…Yes?”

Patrizia slowly turned to look at him. She was elegant and beautiful. Lucio hesitated, then ended up changing the topic from what he wanted to say.

“I'm sorry about the other day,” he apologized.

“…You don't have to worry,” she reassured him.

“But still… I'm sorry.” He spoke in a slightly choked voice. “You're going to the Marquis' house in two days, right?”

“Yes.”

I certainly haven't told him about this, Patrizia thought. The security of the Imperial Palace was weaker than she thought.

“You can stay there…as long as you want,” Lucio said quickly.

“…Pardon?”

“I'm telling you to take your time there. You have been through a lot.”

How good would that be, Your Majesty? Patrizia smirked. But the weight of duty on her shoulders was too heavy for her to do that. She could not stay away for long. As long as she was gone, the paperwork she had to do would also increase.

Patrizia replied. “I will be going in the morning, and then I will be back at night, Your Majesty.”

Lucio sighed in relief with her remark. Patrizia saw herself reflected in his eyes, then turned around to start walking again. She smiled without realizing it.

“It doesn't suit him,” she murmured.

Chapter end