My Husband Lives in a Painting - Chapter 50

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

My Husband Lives in a Painting: Episode 50
“……How dare you!”
After a long silence, Father finally opened his mouth to speak.
But the arrival of a middle-aged man cut him short.
“Why, isn’t this Ortega?”
The tense atmosphere shattered in an instant at that cheerful greeting.
I turned my head to confirm the familiar face, and for a moment I felt an emotion I’d long forgotten stir within me.
“Count Dinapoli.”
“It’s been far too long. You’ve grown so much while I was away in the Border Region.”
Count Dinapoli had maintained a long friendship with the Claudel family.
Thanks to that connection, I had kept up steady contact with his household since childhood, and the Count had always cherished me like a daughter of his own.
“I apologize for not attending the funeral. I should have found a way to be there no matter what.”
“……It’s all right.”
Count Dinapoli furrowed his brow with genuine concern.
His kindness, which I hadn’t seen in so long, was both welcome and strangely unsettling, and without meaning to, I averted my gaze.
“Still, it’s wonderful to see you again. I trust you and Frita remain as close as ever?”
“……Yes, of course.”
“I thought so! That girl was always so fond of you.”
Count Dinapoli seemed unaware that Frita and I had grown completely estranged over the Camille matter.
That thoughtless girl had kept her distance from the Count, never realizing what a blessing he was to her.
“Oh, that reminds me! I’ve brought back some delightful pastries from the Border Region. It would be perfect to enjoy them together tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Frita mentioned she’s hosting a tea party tomorrow, but have I gotten the date wrong?”
“Ah.”
Only then did I recall the invitation card I’d received from Frita.
She’d made a habit of sending me invitations out of mere formality, but when I opened them, they always carried an unspoken warning: don’t come.
‘I hadn’t even been paying attention to it, so of course……’
“How fortunate. They’re truly delicious pastries. You’ve always enjoyed sweets, haven’t you?”
“…….”
I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the Count’s genuine delight, and in the end I found myself nodding in agreement.
I should have simply declined.
I regretted it immediately on the carriage ride home, but by then it was far too late.
* * *

The next morning, the moment daylight broke, I set off for the Dinapoli Estate.
After a long ride, I descended from the carriage and found the familiar mansion spread before me.
‘Nothing has changed, even after all this time.’
Lost in nostalgia as I recalled old memories, a servant soon approached with a bow.
“How may I help you?”
“I’ve come to attend Frita’s tea party.”
“Right now?”
Something about his response struck me as odd, and I studied the servant more closely.
Our eyes met, and he flinched, then awkwardly extended his hand to show me the way.
“Well, I shall escort you to the venue. Please come this way.”
“Go back to your work. I know the way to the Garden well enough.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Leaving the bewildered servant behind, I followed where my body’s memory led me.
As I drew closer to the Garden, I heard the lively chatter of young ladies, and I found myself standing a little straighter.
At last, rounding a corner, I came upon several ladies gathered around tables set for the outdoors.
“Oh my, who is that……”
“Isn’t that Ortega?”
The moment I appeared, the ladies who recognized me widened their eyes in astonishment.
“Frita, Ortega has arrived!”
“…….”
Frita, seated at the center table, shot up from her chair in shock.
Meanwhile, glancing at the teacups before them, I noticed something: the amount of tea remaining in each cup.
‘She must have told only me a different time.’
Perhaps half an hour earlier? An hour earlier?
She’d played this prank without even knowing whether I would come or not.
At such considerate mischief, I found myself laughing despite myself.
“This way, ma’am!”
“Oh, how fortunate—we have one empty seat. Please, do sit.”
“I’m terribly sorry to be late.”
“Not at all, we’ve only just settled ourselves.”
I accepted without demur and claimed the seat at the central table where Frita was sitting.
She, finding herself suddenly face to face with me, made no effort to conceal her discomfort—but I thought it hardly worth my attention.
“Do forgive us, ma’am. We didn’t expect you, so we’ve already begun on the pastries.”
“Think nothing of it. I’ve already dined.”
“Well, what a pleasant surprise to meet you at a gathering like this! Fate has smiled on us today!”
Despite their youth, all the women present except Frita were already married with families of their own.
Thanks to the seasoned ladies’ efforts, the atmosphere appeared cordial enough on the surface.
That is, until Frita, silent until now with her teacup in hand, finally opened her mouth.
“Indeed. I must confess, I never imagined you’d return to Social Activities quite so soon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It does seem rather hasty, though perhaps that’s only because I’m still unmarried myself—I may be mistaken about such things.”
“Ahem, well.”
The flustered ladies exchanged meaningful glances with one another.
Those few who knew Frita well seemed to grasp immediately why she was being so brusque.
Yet the majority still appeared mystified by her curt manner.
“I—I’m truly sorry to say this, Miss Dinapoli, but perhaps such remarks might be better left unsaid…”
“Was my comment improper? I meant only to express how delighted I am to see you after so long.”
“But still—”
“It’s quite all right.”
I resolved to settle the matter before the innocent bystanders could grow more uncomfortable.
“Miss Dinapoli is correct. My return has been rather premature.”
“Ma—ma’am.”
I had been dulled far too much by now to be rattled by such petty barbs. Besides, I had already set aside so much.
Yet I had no intention of lying meekly before them all like easy prey.
“Someone once advised me that there is no profit in quarreling with those whose judgment I don’t respect.”
…
“Still, I’m grateful for your concern. Your remarks, offered from the perspective of an ‘outsider’ with no connection to Ortega, have given me cause to regard myself with fresh objectivity.”
In brief: what business is it of yours?
I favored her with one last, exquisite smile.
“I shall take your words to heart, Miss Dinapoli.”
“Ugh—!”
Frita’s face flushed crimson in an instant.
The ladies watching nearby caught the barb beneath my words, drew in sharp breaths, and clucked their tongues.
Thus a sudden tempest of tension swept through the Garden, yet the Tea Party continued uninterrupted.
“Ha, haha. You—you’ve changed quite a bit, ma’am. You used to be so very quiet, or so I thought.”
“Is that so? It seems marriage has altered my nature as well.”
“Aha! W—well, yes, marriage certainly does change a person…”
The ladies, their laughter forced and strained, rushed to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“Oh, by the way, has everyone seen that fashionable play these days?”
“I did see it. The one that caused such a stir for its provocative subject matter?”
The ladies enjoyed trading the latest gossip circulating through the Capital.
While some might dismiss it as unproductive chatter, these were tales to be heard only in such company, and so I listened with genuine interest.
“It told the story of a widow who fell in love with a painter. To be honest, I felt quite uncomfortable watching it.”
“The way they used painting was rather contrived, wasn’t it.”
“Yet I thought it a rather compelling subject. After all, it’s only a play, isn’t it?”
Ironic, though the Empire was strict in its prohibitions against adultery and infidelity, the fashionable subjects were invariably just such things.
Perhaps it is only human nature to be drawn to the forbidden?
‘But of all things, a painter. Best not to contribute to this conversation.’
I deliberately withheld my voice from the discussion, offering only perfunctory nods of acknowledgment.
Yet I felt a persistent gaze from across the table; when I glanced over, I found Frita watching me with a peculiar expression.
‘Still looking for a quarrel, then.’
I felt no real apprehension. Whatever dispute might arise in this setting would only rebound against her.
But then came a remark I had not anticipated at all.
“Haven’t people been saying that you yourself have taken to painting lately, ma’am?”
…
“My goodness, is that true?”
I set down the teacup in my hands with deliberate quietness, then fixed Frita with a cold stare as the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————