Episode 51. A Day with Mom
It was morning. Martha was looking at documents in the study when the door was knocked on. It was none other than Isabella. Martha opened the door.
"Mother, what is it?"
Isabella asked.
"Do you have time today? Let's go out together."
Hearing this, Martha thought to herself. Mother is speaking first. I never had time like this with Miss Serena before. Or did I? Even if I did, we often missed each other.
Martha said.
"Yes. I'd like to."
Isabella smiled slightly at Martha. The smile didn't look awkward. They got into a carriage and set off. Since Isabella said she was looking at a new dress, Martha assumed they were heading toward Madame Alice.
However, the carriage headed in a different direction. As Martha looked out the window to gauge which way they were going, Isabella spoke up.
"Serena goes around buying trendy dresses with young ladies these days, don't you?"
"I usually go to Madame Alice often."
Isabella nodded.
"That place is nice. But there is a place that has consistently understood me since I was young. Let's go there."
As Martha listened to these words, she thought. A place that consistently understood me. So, such a place existed. The carriage stopped. As she got out, she looked at the building. It was an old building.
'Jane Eyre's Dressmaking Workshop.'
The sign was old, but elegant and dignified. The exterior was not flashy. Yet, it felt as if it held the passage of time within. Looking at it, Martha thought, 'Oh, here. I remember this place. I came here a few times with Madame Isabella. It is where I used to wait at the door as a lady-in-waiting. Back then, I wasn't allowed inside. When the Madame went in, I would wait outside. There were even rainy days. I stood there holding an umbrella.'
She opened the door and stepped inside. The moment she stepped in, Martha stopped. It was a space she was entering for the first time, yet it did not feel unfamiliar. It smelled of time that had accumulated over a long period. Old wooden shelves, luxurious fabrics, a subtle fragrance. As soon as the Madam saw Isabella, she welcomed her warmly.
"Oh, Madam Isabella. It's been a long time..."
"How have you been, Madam?"
The Madam greeted Martha, who was standing beside Isabella.
"It seems like it has been a while since you came with your daughter. Miss Serena, I saw you when you were little, and you have grown up so much."
Hearing this, Martha thought to herself. That's right. Miss Serena did accompany Madam when she came here as a child. Back then, I waited at the door, wondering how everyone was doing inside.
Isabella began choosing a dress while chatting with the Madam. Martha sat on the sofa and watched. Isabella and the Madam conversed naturally, as if they had known each other for a long time. Discussing this and that. Saying this color would suit the year and that silhouette would be appropriate for this occasion.
She could feel that the Madam knew Isabella's figure like the back of her hand. Watching this, Martha thought. Madam Isabella had her own world. While I was waiting outside, she was having moments like this inside. Some people had known the Madam for a long time.
Isabella entered the dressing room while picking out a few dresses. A moment later, the door opened. Martha's gaze stopped at Isabella, who was wearing a yellow dress. It was a pale yellow, like the spring sunshine. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't stimulating. But when it touched Isabella, the feeling was different.
Even though a woman in her mid-fifties wore it, it wasn't childish. It was dignified and elegant. It felt like someone who had lived a long life was embracing those years within her. The shoulder line flowed naturally. The waistline was elegantly defined. It seemed as though Isabella was completing the dress, rather than the dress adorning her. Martha thought. Madam Isabella was indeed a beauty to begin with. I had forgotten that for a long time. You tend to forget things like that when you are by someone's side every day.
Isabella looked at herself in the mirror, then looked at Martha.
"Serena, how does it look?"
"It suits you well, Mother."
Isabella adjusted her dress while looking in the mirror.
"Really?"
"Yes. The color matches perfectly. It matches your skin tone, Mother, so you look even brighter."
Isabella was silent for a moment as she looked at herself in the mirror.
"Let's go with this one."
The Madame added from the side.
"As expected, Isabella, you have good taste. This color is just right."
Isabella looked at the Madame, then her gaze turned to Martha.
"My daughter recognized it before I did."
The Madame looked at Martha.
"Your daughter has good taste."
Isabella said.
"She has always had a good eye."
Martha thought to herself. After all, she had spent sixty years as a lady-in-waiting, dressing noble princesses. They were on their way out after choosing the dress. As Isabella walked, she stopped in front of a stall. It was a stall selling hairpins and small trinkets. Martha thought, 'Why is a lady of high society here?'
Martha tugged at Isabella's sleeve.
"Mother, why are you here?"
Isabella said with a smile.
"Even here, if you pick carefully, many people think you bought it at a shop. It's a place that sells fakes that look just like the real thing."
Martha looked at the stall. A fake that looked just like the real thing.
A memory from that time came flooding back. There had been a day long ago when Madame Isabella stopped in front of this very stall. Martha had followed behind her and stopped with her. Madame Isabella had looked at the stall and said.
"Martha, even here, if you pick out a nice-looking item, many people think you bought it at a shop. Pick one out, Martha, I'll buy it for you."
At that time, Martha had said.
"My lady, a lady-in-waiting shouldn't accept something like this."
Madame Isabella had replied.
"Why not? Just take it."
Still, Martha had declined. In the end, Madame Isabella had forced one upon her. It was a small lavender-shaped pin. Martha had kept that pin in a drawer her entire life and never taken it out.
Why did the old days suddenly come to mind?
Isabella whispered to Martha as she looked at the accessories displayed at the stall.
"Serena, pick one out. Mom will buy it for you."
Martha froze. It was the same words. The exact same words as back then. Martha slowly surveyed the stall. Small pins, ribbons, tiny flower-shaped ornaments. Then her hand stopped. It was a lavender-shaped pin. This is it. It is exactly the same one the Madam bought for her back then. Martha picked it up.
"This one."
Isabella gazed intently at the lavender pin Martha was holding.
"You picked that well."
As Isabella paid the stall owner, she handed the pin to Martha. Martha clutched the pin tightly in her hand. Seeing this, Isabella snatched the pin from her hand and pinned it directly into Martha's hair. Then, she simply remarked.
"It's pretty."
After finishing their shopping, Isabella headed to a teahouse with Martha. It was a teahouse steeped in history and tradition, said to be over a century old. The moment they opened the door and stepped inside, the aroma of warm tea filled the air. As soon as the waiter saw Isabella, he greeted her politely. Pointing at Martha, Isabella said.
"She is my daughter."
The waiter nodded, looking at Martha as if he already knew.
"Is this your first time here, young lady? I've heard a lot about you."
"You mean?"
"Every time Madam visited, she spoke of her daughter. She said she was a tomboy, but so pretty that I wouldn't mind putting her in my eyes."
Martha looked at Isabella. Isabella avoided Martha's gaze and looked into the distance.
"It was just something I said to a teahouse waiter."
Yet, her ears were slightly red. Martha thought. "My daughter, who is a tomboy but so pretty that I wouldn't mind putting her in my eyes." So that is what she had said. She couldn't say it directly to Miss Serena. She said it here.
'So you were missing her all alone.'
Isabella said to the waiter.
"Is that room ready?"
The waiter nodded and replied.
"It is always ready. I will escort you to the second floor."
They went up to the second floor. It was a room at the end of the hallway. When the door opened, a magnificent view overlooking the street unfolded beyond the window. The afternoon sunlight was streaming in through the window. There was a small table and a sofa. It was a cozy and quiet room. Martha looked around the room in detail.
"Is this Mother's room?"
Isabella asked, gazing inside.
"It is a room your father allowed me to use exclusively for the rest of my life, until this shop closes down."
Martha looked at Isabella. Isabella opened her mouth while looking out the window.
"I was proposed to here."
Martha looked inside as she heard those words. Duke Claude proposed here. In this room. In front of this window. Isabella sat on the sofa by the window and spoke.
"He stood before this window back then and said, 'This room is yours from now on. Until the day this shop disappears. And I am yours too. Until the day I disappear."
Martha looked at Isabella. Isabella smiled as she looked out the window.
"I was twenty-two then."
There was a moment of silence. Martha sat down beside Isabella.
"Father, he is quite romantic."
"He is just that kind of person. Even though he doesn't seem to express himself well, he is the kind of person who takes care of things like this."
Martha thought. So Duke Claude was that kind of person. He always struggled to find a compliment, so two pats on the shoulder was his maximum expression. So he had this side to him. And Madam Isabella knew that.
The tea was served. The two talked while drinking tea. After drinking in silence for a while, Isabella spoke.
"Serena, I once brought you to this teahouse when you were little. Were you five? You got scolded back then for following the waiter around and trying to help with the work."
Martha thought as she listened to the story.
"I remember. You know how much the waiter suffered because of you back then. You followed him around and smoothed things over."
"And then?"
"I scolded you, and you just burst into tears. I felt bad, wondering if I had scolded yiu too harshly."
Martha looked at Isabella. Isabella continued speaking while looking out the window.
"I think I understood why you acted that way. You just wanted to be with your mother. You wanted your mother to pay attention to you. But I had scolded you for that."
Martha thought. Maybe that's why Miss Serena became such a tomboy. Because she wanted attention. Because she wanted her mother to pay attention to her. It just went in the wrong direction. And Madam Isabella knew that, too. Neither of them knew how to express themselves. They were both clumsy.
Isabella looked at Martha.
"So I'm sorry. I couldn't give you proper love, and you've grown up like this. I should have hugged you more when you were little. I should have told you one more time that you did well. I just couldn't do it. I was clumsy as a mother."
Martha looked at Isabella. Mother is saying she is sorry. To Miss Serena. And now to me.
"I am sorry, too."
Isabella looked at Marta.
"I went so far astray from you, Mother. I am sorry about that."
Isabella looked at Marta for a long time.
"It's fine, even now."
Martha looked out the window as she heard those words. Her eyes welled up. It's fine, even now. Why did those words pierce her heart so deeply? It would have been better if Miss Serena were alive to hear these words. But it is I who am hearing them now. Did I need to hear these words too?
Martha blinked and looked out the window. Isabella was about to say something more but clamped her mouth shut. She just drank her tea. That quietness was comforting.
As they left the teahouse, Isabella took Martha's hand. Martha thought as she felt it.
'Mother held my hand. In the past, Madame Isabella always walked ahead of Miss Serena, and I used to follow behind her. Now, we are walking hand in hand.'
The two walked side by side. As they walked down the street, Isabella told Martha stories. Stories of their youth, the first time she met Duke Claude, and how nervous she was when she first arrived at the ducal estate of Valois. Listening to her, Martha thought, 'I have been by her side as a lady-in-waiting for sixty years. Yet I have never heard stories like this. I didn't know what kind of person Madame Isabella was. I only knew her as the Madame. I didn't know her as a person. Her twenty-two years, her fluttering heart, her clumsy moments. I knew nothing.'
"Serena. Today was good."
"Me too."
Isabella smiled at Martha. That smile was the first comfortable smile of the day inside the carriage. The two sat side by side. Isabella began to stroke Martha's hair. At first, Martha felt awkward, and her body stiffened slightly. Isabella felt it but did not stop.
Feeling that warmth, Martha slowly relaxed. Someone is stroking my head. No, it would be safe to say this is almost the first time. Living as a lady-in-waiting, I never experienced anything like this. And I thought there wouldn't be anything like this in my second life either. But there is.
Isabella said.
"Let's go out again."
"Yes."
Isabella said, stroking Martha's head.
"Next time, let's go wherever you want. Madame Alice would be nice, too."
"Go wherever Mother wants. I like everything."
"We can go to both then."
Martha let out a soft chuckle. It's my second life. This time, I can accept it. I can accept something like this from Mom.
Martha closed her eyes. She held a lavender pin in her hand.
The carriage stopped in front of the Duke of Valois estate. As Martha stepped out of the carriage, she looked at Isabella. Isabella said.
"Go inside."
"You too, Mother."
Isabella smiled and stepped out of the carriage. The two entered the mansion side by side. Lucy, who had been waiting at the entrance, changed her expression as she watched them come in. She took out a notebook. Martha spoke without even looking at Lucy.
"Don't write."
Lucy wrote. Martha let out a snicker. The lavender pin she held in her hand was warm.
[Lucy's Secret Shock Journal - Episode 51]
Today, the Princess spent the day with her Mother. Her expression was different when she returned. It looked like the look of someone who has just stopped crying.
However, it wasn't a bad look. She came back holding a lavender pin. It was a small pin, but she carried it with such care.
Will I ever realize it as I live?
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