The Male Lead Is Going Mad Searching for His Dead Wife, and I’m That Wife - Chapter 15

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The male lead goes mad searching for his dead wife, and that wife is me. Chapter 015
With Lucian gone, it was as if the guests had picked the day on purpose and came pouring in.
“Madam, you have visitors!”
Rita said, her face drained of color.
I stopped my hand over the embroidery and looked up.
“Visitors? For me?”
“Ladies from the noble houses of the North. Countess Lowell and Viscountess Hartman, and a few others as well. They say they’ve come to pay their respects to the Duchess…”
Rita’s voice trailed off, growing smaller with every word.
I slid my needle into the cushion. I had a fair idea of what this was about. Showing up the moment the Duke left the estate was hardly a good sign.
And they hadn’t even sent word ahead. Arriving in a group, without an appointment, at the house of the Duchess? The so-called courtesy call was clearly just a pretext.
They must have come to get a look at the burden the Emperor had dumped on the Duke. And they’d no doubt comfort themselves with the thought that they were working for the good of the North.
Their hostility toward me, or rather toward Lisana, wasn’t a matter of a day or two, so none of this was very surprising.
Their hostility toward me, or more precisely toward Lisana, was nothing new, so it wasn’t all that strange.
Behind Rita, the Head Maid appeared.
I spoke to the Head Maid.
“Please show them to the reception room. And if it’s not too much trouble, could you see about some tea?”
I smoothed the folds of my dress and rose to my feet. I should change, shouldn’t I?
Rita hurried after me, her steps quick and small, as I made my way toward the dressing room.
Once I had changed into a gown and tidied myself up, I stepped into the reception room, and the women in their lavish dresses all turned toward me at once.
They rose from their seats, slowly.
Countess Lowell, standing at the front, unfolded her fan and dipped her knees slightly.
“Greetings to the Duchess. We thought you might be lonely with His Grace away from the estate, so we came to keep you company.”
“Thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”
The noblewomen settled onto the sofas, exchanging meaningful glances as they did.
Their gazes traveled from the sleeves of my dress, to my neck with not a single piece of jewelry, and finally to my plainly pinned-up hair. Someone let out a small laugh behind her fan.
“My, the Duchess is so frugal. I heard you lived quite lavishly at the Imperial Palace.”
Viscountess Hartman said.
Her voice was sweet as honey, but anyone could tell it was a jab.
It was also a way of belittling my position, the fact that I wasn’t treated with any real regard in the Ducal House.
“They say those who are showered with their husband’s love have a glow to their skin. Just look at Countess Lowell, Duchess.”
“I see.”
Ugh, no interest, no interest. They’re just extras who’ll pass by in a moment, and how much could we ever have to do with each other anyway?
I gave a perfunctory reply and fixed my gaze on the table.
It was the tablecloth I had finished not long ago. I’d made it as practice for my embroidery. The Head Maid had taken it away, and apparently she had set it out in the reception room.
It suits the table well enough. Not that I’d planned for it to.
The chatter of the noblewomen went in one ear and out the other.
None of it was worth hearing. Words like marital affection and children drifted past, but since they had nothing to do with me, I didn’t bother to take them in.
I was certainly glad I’d used silver embroidery thread.
“…Are you even listening to what we’re saying? What on earth are you staring at……!”
“What’s on that tablecloth that’s got you so absorbed……!”
The noblewomen’s eyes swung toward the tablecloth.
Blue and silver threads spread across the white linen. It looked as though the winter forest of the North had been lifted straight onto the cloth. Fir branches heavy with snow ran along the table’s edges, and between them small birds sat with their wings folded.
Every stitch had been labored over, yet strangely, the longer you looked, the more the snow at the branch tips seemed ready to drop at any moment.
I had meant for that to happen, after all.
I had wanted to embroider something that suited this place. I never imagined the embroidery I’d long kept as a hobby would prove so useful.
Countess Lowell’s fan came to a halt.
“This… where did you get this? Do you know the craftsman who made this embroidery?”
The noblewomen unconsciously leaned toward the table.
One lady traced a fir branch with her fingertip, then jerked her hand back. She looked as though she had touched not thread but real, icy snow.
“Not even the workshops in the capital have anything like this.”
“If only I could include something like this in my daughter’s trousseau…”
Someone murmured.
I pricked up my ears.
A trousseau, huh. That was worth keeping in mind. It meant the embroidery I’d made could actually bring in money.
“I embroidered it myself.”
“Y-you did, Duchess?”
I smiled brightly and nodded.
They no longer looked like annoying gnats to me, but like valued customers. Of course, that assumed they were willing to open their purses for me.
I can embroider trousseau items too. As long as you pay a fair price for them.
The noblewomen stared at me with their mouths hanging open.
Just then, the reception room door swung open.
The head maid led the way in, and the maids followed in a line behind her, each balancing a silver tray.
The first tray held a fruit tart rich with butter, the next a cake layered with cream, and after that came sugared biscuits and pears stewed in honey. Within moments, the table glittered like a jeweler’s display case.
The noblewomen’s eyes went wide.
“W-what is all this…?”
“The Duchess has been skipping her meals, so…”
The head maid answered crisply and bowed her head.
“There was a message from the Duchess that she hopes you’ll each eat at least two plates.”
Was there anyone who would think to order something like that?
I tilted my head.
Lisana had a small appetite. Given that she’d gone hungry most of her life, I suppose it made sense. Even now, she barely ate much.
“…His Grace the Duke worries about you a great deal, Your Grace.”
I’m fine, really.
Lucian really was as kind as he was in the original novel.
By the time the tart was half gone, Countess Lowell set down her teacup.
“Still, I imagine you must be worried, Duchess. You’ve only ever lived in the Imperial Palace, so you can’t know much about how things stand in the North.”
“That’s right. The capital folk have no idea what His Grace is fighting at the border.”
The noblewomen chimed in, as if they’d been waiting for their cue.
I lifted my teacup to my lips, then set it back down.
What do they mean, I don’t know? I probably know it better than anyone.
The original novel was told mainly from the protagonist’s point of view. The female and male leads had all but lived on the battlefield, so there was no way I could not know the situation.
“I heard this campaign is going out because the number of Demon Beasts on the border is higher than expected, so the Duke is going in person. When spring comes, it’s Spawning Season, and the Demon Beasts that woke from their winter sleep all cross the border at once. So the Duke means to shore up the defensive line before then.”
The reception room fell quiet again.
I could see Countess Lowell’s lips press tightly shut.
“On top of that, the defensive line creeps a little farther south every year, so the Duke must be deeply troubled. The North is vast, and with conscription, the number of young men in every domain keeps shrinking.”
I turned to look at Countess Lowell.
“I heard the Lowell house also couldn’t bring in the full harvest last autumn for lack of hands. They say that’s why northern grain prices rose at the market. If you need anything this winter, I’ll look into whether the Ducal House can help.”
Countess Lowell’s face flushed red, then went pale.
She probably didn’t expect me to know even this much. The truth is, if you spend time at the dressmaker’s shop, you pick up facts you’d rather not know.
Like how Count Lowell, reputed to be devoted to his wife, is seen entangled with an opera singer behind her back. Not that I have any intention of getting mixed up in that tangle.
I shrugged and slid the tart plate toward Viscountess Hartman.
“You should eat well too, Viscountess. I heard your young heir is stationed at the border fortress. You must be worried.”
Viscountess Hartman froze, her fork still in her hand.
“With His Grace there, I’m sure he’ll return safely.”
The corners of the Viscountess’s eyes reddened slightly.

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