7. Debutante
The break began with the dress: Erna Hardy's debutante dress, to be worn at a ball held at the royal palace.
Brenda Hardy examined Erna's dress with a somewhat perplexed gaze. While it adhered faithfully to the debutante tradition in its pure white color, the look was anything but modest. The neckline was so plunging that she was about to make her debut, exposing her shoulders and half her chest to the entire social world.
“Anyway, I said she’s not an ordinary woman.”
Brenda Hardy leaned back in her wing chair, muttering a sigh.
It was Countess Meyer who suggested such a dress. Her suggestion for a more modest, perhaps even ordinary, debutante dress was completely ignored. They said it would be quite a sight to see a young woman, nearly twenty, wearing the same dress as her younger siblings. She was furious, but since it was the truth, she found it difficult to find a way to refute it.
The noble ladies of Letzen generally debuted in society around the age of fifteen, at the ball held in honor of the founding of the nation. While personal circumstances might push the date forward or postpone it by a year, no other lady has ever had such a late debutante. They often claimed it was due to poor health and a period of recuperation in the countryside, but no one would take that at face value.
Well, if you have to stand out, it's better to take a bold approach.
The dress, with its puffed sleeves that draped gently over the shoulders and its voluminous hem, was undeniably beautiful. The chiffon hem of the skirt was lightly tinged with a pale pink, making what could have been a simple dress appear much more vibrant. The dress shop owner, who had promised to make the dress look like a newly bloomed flower, had kept her promise.
No matter how you look at it, it's not a debutante dress that any sane parent would dress their daughter in, but Viscount Hardy, the father who's burning with ambition to sell his daughter to make a living, can't possibly be in a position to feel wronged by such criticism.
Brenda Hardy, her mind made up, rang the bell on the table loudly. The maid, who had left on her errand, soon returned with a young maid who was to attend to Erna.
"There's something you have to take responsibility for and accomplish for Erna. You can do it, right?"
“Yes, Ma’am! Just leave it to me.”
The maid with a tense face answered loudly.
“Yeah. That’s a great pose. It’s nice to see.”
Brenda Hardy, smiling only with her lips, slowly got up and approached the maid.
"Have Erna wear this dress. If you don't bring Erna in this dress before departure time, you'll be fired today. So, understand that."
Bjorn woke up earlier than usual. It was noon, a far cry from his usual wake-up time, but to him, it felt like the early morning.
"Thank goodness, Your Highness. Thanks to you, the servants of the Grand Duke's residence have been spared the tragedy of being reprimanded by His Majesty the King."
Mrs. Fitz made an unusual joke to Bjorn, who had just emerged from the bathroom. A gentle smile graced her face, which rarely showed emotion.
Bjorn, who had shown a slight smile, walked with wide strides into the dressing room. The attendants preparing the formal attire paused for a moment, stepped back, and bowed their heads. Bjorn, who returned the greeting with a slight nod, no longer had a smile on his face.
As Bjorn, now fully dressed, stood before the mirror, the attendants began to move busily. As they prepared their elaborate and ornate formal attire, the sunlight streaming through the window grew brighter. Björn narrowed his eyes and gazed at the golden dust drifting through the light.
Even if one troublesome Prince hadn't shown up, tonight's ball would proceed without a hitch. Bjorn knew full well that his father's threats were nothing more than empty words. His benevolent father, the revered King Philip III of Lechen, wouldn't have dared do such a thing even with a knife to his throat.
Still, be decided to attend. It was a price to pay for a life of ease and comfort, a price he had to pay. It was a minimum level of morality and responsibility, a duty that was different from any other form of bondage. It was the proper line he had maintained as a Dniester.
“It’s done, Your Highness.”
The butler, who had been arranging the final curtain, spoke softly.
Bjorn glanced at his reflection in the mirror and turned away. Just a slight twitch of the corners of his lips instantly transformed his complexion.
Bjorn began to walk briskly toward the central entrance of the Grand Duke's residence, where his carriage awaited him. The faces of the servants following him were bright with the long-awaited admiration and joy.
"It would have been better if you had gone to the capital a day earlier and stayed there. I'm worried that traffic might be congested and you might be late for the ball."
Mrs. Fitz, who had followed the carriage, spoke worriedly.
“That’s not bad either.”
“Prince!”
“I guess I should just pray that something happens that will block the road.”
Bjorn climbed into the carriage, his voice trembling. Despite his rambunctious, mischievous demeanor, his movements were sleek, graceful, and free of unnecessary frills.
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke departed Schwerin Palace, escorted by his attendants. The scenery passing by the window was picturesque, a bright late spring afternoon.
“It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault!”
As the palace came into view across the street, Brenda Hardy let out her suppressed anger. Viscount Hardy, barely able to catch his breath, glared at his wife, bewildered.
"What? Are you now trying to say that even accidents caused by other people's carriages are my fault?"
“If you hadn’t blown our townhouse in the capital with bank debt, you wouldn’t have entered the palace in such a shameful manner on the day of the ball!”
Viscount Hardy, horrified by his wife's unwavering, unyielding voice, clenched his lips tightly, unable to argue any further. Amidst the commotion, Erna simply stared out the window, her face half-struck.
Schwerin was a neighboring city to the capital, Bern. It wasn't a long journey by carriage, but today, due to an unexpected accident, their arrival was significantly delayed. It was already the ball's time, a major event, but to Erna, even that felt like something from a distant world.
It would have been better if the road had never been opened.
Erna looked down at herself with eyes that seemed close to tears. To think she had to go to the palace in such a ridiculous dress. She felt like jumping out of the carriage at any moment.
Erna firmly refused the dress the moment she saw it. If it weren't for Lisa, who cried and begged not to return to the countryside, threatening to kick her out if she couldn't wear it, Erna would never have worn such a vulgar garment.
Erna, unable to attend the ball naked, nor to allow an innocent maid to be kicked out, proposed a compromise of her own: covering her shoulders with a lace shawl. The Viscountess, though not particularly pleased, thankfully relented.
"You must do well in what you've learned, Erna. Do you understand?"
As the carriage passed the grand entrance of the palace, Viscount Hardy gave a strong order.
As you learned? What did I learn?
Erna tried to recall her memories, but it wasn't going as planned. Meanwhile, the palace drew closer. Her hands, clutching the lace shawl wrapped around her shoulders, were now trembling as if in a convulsion.
“Your Grace! What on earth is going on?”
Countess Meyer, spotting the Hardy family hurriedly climbing the stairs, shouted nervously. The royal couple had already arrived, and the introductions of the ladies making their debuts this season had already been completed.
"It all came to this because of a carriage accident. Are we really late?"
Victoria Meyer glanced at the Countess, who was asking such a pitiful question, and hurried down the stairs.
“What is this shawl?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. This was the best I could do.”
Brenda Hardy, who had been observing her, quickly made an excuse. Erna, who had worked so hard to make her a beautiful dress, was still wrapped tightly in a shawl.
"If it weren't for the shawl, I wouldn't have been able to get this kid into the carriage. You have no idea how stubborn she is, Madam."
Making lame excuses.
Countess Meyer, shaking her head, grabbed Erna's wrist and began to climb the stairs in a hurry. She couldn't control this small, weak girl as she pleased. Brenda Hardy's incompetence was appalling.
“Countess, just a little, just a little bit of time...”
"Time? Come on, Miss Hardy. The King has already been here. How much more time do you need?"
Erna pleaded, panting, but Countess Meyer remained unmoved. It was impossible to shake off her country bumpkin charm in that short time anyway. Perhaps she would have a better chance of success if she were to show off her innocent, country girl charm.
“Please confess.”
She gave a command to the attendants guarding the banquet hall. The heavy door, engraved with the white wolf symbol of the Dniester royal family, slowly opened, releasing a dazzling stream of light and noise.
“Viscount Hardy is here!”
The eyes of the nobles filling the vast hall turned simultaneously to the bellowing voice of the attendant. At that moment, Victoria Meyer instinctively knew that this was far more advantageous than appearing as one of the many young ladies. The crisis had become an opportunity.
Countess Meyer exchanged glances with the Viscount and his wife, who had followed her breathlessly, and then snatched the shawl from Erna, who remained frozen like a statue. Erna, realizing this too late, struggled, but it was nothing more than a futile gesture.
“Yes. Let’s go, Miss Hardy.”
Countess Meyer gave Erna a cold, forceful push on the back. The beautiful product she had been entrusted with this season was tossed limply into the dazzling light.
She couldn't breathe well.
That was all Erna could barely muster. Even just standing still, her heart pounded and her breath hitched.
Come to your senses.
Erna lifted her head, exhaling with a shallow, labored breath. The impossibly spacious and ornate hall was filled with people just as extravagant.
Erna, barely able to support her trembling legs as she took a few steps forward, soon stopped again. This was because she remembered what she looked like.
Erna, her shoulders hunched, looked around as if for help. But all she saw were unfamiliar faces and dizzying lights. Soon, even that faded into a blur, like a painting with paint smeared across it.
What should I do? What should I do?
Erna, trembling helplessly like prey thrown into a beast's den, looked around once more. It was then that the servant's call, announcing the arrival of a new guest, was heard amidst the murmur of the onlookers.
“The Grand Duke of Schwerin, Prince Bjorn, come!”
The ripples caused by that name swept through the entire banquet hall in an instant.
The break began with the dress: Erna Hardy's debutante dress, to be worn at a ball held at the royal palace.
Brenda Hardy examined Erna's dress with a somewhat perplexed gaze. While it adhered faithfully to the debutante tradition in its pure white color, the look was anything but modest. The neckline was so plunging that she was about to make her debut, exposing her shoulders and half her chest to the entire social world.
“Anyway, I said she’s not an ordinary woman.”
Brenda Hardy leaned back in her wing chair, muttering a sigh.
It was Countess Meyer who suggested such a dress. Her suggestion for a more modest, perhaps even ordinary, debutante dress was completely ignored. They said it would be quite a sight to see a young woman, nearly twenty, wearing the same dress as her younger siblings. She was furious, but since it was the truth, she found it difficult to find a way to refute it.
The noble ladies of Letzen generally debuted in society around the age of fifteen, at the ball held in honor of the founding of the nation. While personal circumstances might push the date forward or postpone it by a year, no other lady has ever had such a late debutante. They often claimed it was due to poor health and a period of recuperation in the countryside, but no one would take that at face value.
Well, if you have to stand out, it's better to take a bold approach.
The dress, with its puffed sleeves that draped gently over the shoulders and its voluminous hem, was undeniably beautiful. The chiffon hem of the skirt was lightly tinged with a pale pink, making what could have been a simple dress appear much more vibrant. The dress shop owner, who had promised to make the dress look like a newly bloomed flower, had kept her promise.
No matter how you look at it, it's not a debutante dress that any sane parent would dress their daughter in, but Viscount Hardy, the father who's burning with ambition to sell his daughter to make a living, can't possibly be in a position to feel wronged by such criticism.
Brenda Hardy, her mind made up, rang the bell on the table loudly. The maid, who had left on her errand, soon returned with a young maid who was to attend to Erna.
"There's something you have to take responsibility for and accomplish for Erna. You can do it, right?"
“Yes, Ma’am! Just leave it to me.”
The maid with a tense face answered loudly.
“Yeah. That’s a great pose. It’s nice to see.”
Brenda Hardy, smiling only with her lips, slowly got up and approached the maid.
"Have Erna wear this dress. If you don't bring Erna in this dress before departure time, you'll be fired today. So, understand that."
***
Bjorn woke up earlier than usual. It was noon, a far cry from his usual wake-up time, but to him, it felt like the early morning.
"Thank goodness, Your Highness. Thanks to you, the servants of the Grand Duke's residence have been spared the tragedy of being reprimanded by His Majesty the King."
Mrs. Fitz made an unusual joke to Bjorn, who had just emerged from the bathroom. A gentle smile graced her face, which rarely showed emotion.
Bjorn, who had shown a slight smile, walked with wide strides into the dressing room. The attendants preparing the formal attire paused for a moment, stepped back, and bowed their heads. Bjorn, who returned the greeting with a slight nod, no longer had a smile on his face.
As Bjorn, now fully dressed, stood before the mirror, the attendants began to move busily. As they prepared their elaborate and ornate formal attire, the sunlight streaming through the window grew brighter. Björn narrowed his eyes and gazed at the golden dust drifting through the light.
Even if one troublesome Prince hadn't shown up, tonight's ball would proceed without a hitch. Bjorn knew full well that his father's threats were nothing more than empty words. His benevolent father, the revered King Philip III of Lechen, wouldn't have dared do such a thing even with a knife to his throat.
Still, be decided to attend. It was a price to pay for a life of ease and comfort, a price he had to pay. It was a minimum level of morality and responsibility, a duty that was different from any other form of bondage. It was the proper line he had maintained as a Dniester.
“It’s done, Your Highness.”
The butler, who had been arranging the final curtain, spoke softly.
Bjorn glanced at his reflection in the mirror and turned away. Just a slight twitch of the corners of his lips instantly transformed his complexion.
Bjorn began to walk briskly toward the central entrance of the Grand Duke's residence, where his carriage awaited him. The faces of the servants following him were bright with the long-awaited admiration and joy.
"It would have been better if you had gone to the capital a day earlier and stayed there. I'm worried that traffic might be congested and you might be late for the ball."
Mrs. Fitz, who had followed the carriage, spoke worriedly.
“That’s not bad either.”
“Prince!”
“I guess I should just pray that something happens that will block the road.”
Bjorn climbed into the carriage, his voice trembling. Despite his rambunctious, mischievous demeanor, his movements were sleek, graceful, and free of unnecessary frills.
The carriage carrying the Grand Duke departed Schwerin Palace, escorted by his attendants. The scenery passing by the window was picturesque, a bright late spring afternoon.
***
“It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault!”
As the palace came into view across the street, Brenda Hardy let out her suppressed anger. Viscount Hardy, barely able to catch his breath, glared at his wife, bewildered.
"What? Are you now trying to say that even accidents caused by other people's carriages are my fault?"
“If you hadn’t blown our townhouse in the capital with bank debt, you wouldn’t have entered the palace in such a shameful manner on the day of the ball!”
Viscount Hardy, horrified by his wife's unwavering, unyielding voice, clenched his lips tightly, unable to argue any further. Amidst the commotion, Erna simply stared out the window, her face half-struck.
Schwerin was a neighboring city to the capital, Bern. It wasn't a long journey by carriage, but today, due to an unexpected accident, their arrival was significantly delayed. It was already the ball's time, a major event, but to Erna, even that felt like something from a distant world.
It would have been better if the road had never been opened.
Erna looked down at herself with eyes that seemed close to tears. To think she had to go to the palace in such a ridiculous dress. She felt like jumping out of the carriage at any moment.
Erna firmly refused the dress the moment she saw it. If it weren't for Lisa, who cried and begged not to return to the countryside, threatening to kick her out if she couldn't wear it, Erna would never have worn such a vulgar garment.
Erna, unable to attend the ball naked, nor to allow an innocent maid to be kicked out, proposed a compromise of her own: covering her shoulders with a lace shawl. The Viscountess, though not particularly pleased, thankfully relented.
"You must do well in what you've learned, Erna. Do you understand?"
As the carriage passed the grand entrance of the palace, Viscount Hardy gave a strong order.
As you learned? What did I learn?
Erna tried to recall her memories, but it wasn't going as planned. Meanwhile, the palace drew closer. Her hands, clutching the lace shawl wrapped around her shoulders, were now trembling as if in a convulsion.
***
“Your Grace! What on earth is going on?”
Countess Meyer, spotting the Hardy family hurriedly climbing the stairs, shouted nervously. The royal couple had already arrived, and the introductions of the ladies making their debuts this season had already been completed.
"It all came to this because of a carriage accident. Are we really late?"
Victoria Meyer glanced at the Countess, who was asking such a pitiful question, and hurried down the stairs.
“What is this shawl?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. This was the best I could do.”
Brenda Hardy, who had been observing her, quickly made an excuse. Erna, who had worked so hard to make her a beautiful dress, was still wrapped tightly in a shawl.
"If it weren't for the shawl, I wouldn't have been able to get this kid into the carriage. You have no idea how stubborn she is, Madam."
Making lame excuses.
Countess Meyer, shaking her head, grabbed Erna's wrist and began to climb the stairs in a hurry. She couldn't control this small, weak girl as she pleased. Brenda Hardy's incompetence was appalling.
“Countess, just a little, just a little bit of time...”
"Time? Come on, Miss Hardy. The King has already been here. How much more time do you need?"
Erna pleaded, panting, but Countess Meyer remained unmoved. It was impossible to shake off her country bumpkin charm in that short time anyway. Perhaps she would have a better chance of success if she were to show off her innocent, country girl charm.
“Please confess.”
She gave a command to the attendants guarding the banquet hall. The heavy door, engraved with the white wolf symbol of the Dniester royal family, slowly opened, releasing a dazzling stream of light and noise.
“Viscount Hardy is here!”
The eyes of the nobles filling the vast hall turned simultaneously to the bellowing voice of the attendant. At that moment, Victoria Meyer instinctively knew that this was far more advantageous than appearing as one of the many young ladies. The crisis had become an opportunity.
Countess Meyer exchanged glances with the Viscount and his wife, who had followed her breathlessly, and then snatched the shawl from Erna, who remained frozen like a statue. Erna, realizing this too late, struggled, but it was nothing more than a futile gesture.
“Yes. Let’s go, Miss Hardy.”
Countess Meyer gave Erna a cold, forceful push on the back. The beautiful product she had been entrusted with this season was tossed limply into the dazzling light.
***
She couldn't breathe well.
That was all Erna could barely muster. Even just standing still, her heart pounded and her breath hitched.
Come to your senses.
Erna lifted her head, exhaling with a shallow, labored breath. The impossibly spacious and ornate hall was filled with people just as extravagant.
Erna, barely able to support her trembling legs as she took a few steps forward, soon stopped again. This was because she remembered what she looked like.
Erna, her shoulders hunched, looked around as if for help. But all she saw were unfamiliar faces and dizzying lights. Soon, even that faded into a blur, like a painting with paint smeared across it.
What should I do? What should I do?
Erna, trembling helplessly like prey thrown into a beast's den, looked around once more. It was then that the servant's call, announcing the arrival of a new guest, was heard amidst the murmur of the onlookers.
“The Grand Duke of Schwerin, Prince Bjorn, come!”
The ripples caused by that name swept through the entire banquet hall in an instant.
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