The moment Eloise realized this, her face flushed.
Lady Fairfax was looking at her as if she were a *"pathetic creature."*
If it had been pure compassion alone, it would have been tolerable. But Eloise could also detect faint satisfaction in her expression.
As though she *enjoyed* this situation—in which she could pity Eloise.
But she couldn't say it aloud. After all, she had just arrived asking for shelter. The unpleasant feeling she experienced could only be verified by her own instincts.
What could she say in such circumstances?
"Mother!"
At that moment, a high-pitched female voice rang out from beyond the door.
**"I told you I'm really busy! I don't have time to hang around with some country bumpkin who came from who knows where!"**
The girl who burst inside with a piercing scream—seeing Eloise standing there—fell silent in shock.
She had long, curly blonde hair that fell to her waist, and blue eyes.
Her dress was simple in cut, flowing along the curves of her body—but it was adorned with a luxurious pattern Eloise had never seen before. Undoubtedly imported silk.
Perhaps she was heading somewhere? The short, wrist-length gloves were also made of white lace with beautiful embroidery.
Eloise had met daughters of wealthy Cambon families before—girls who spared no effort or expense on their outfits.
So she'd thought herself accustomed to luxury. But compared to this girl who had just entered, the ladies from Cambon would have seemed exceedingly modest.
This girl, dressed from head to toe in things anyone would consider expensive, was...
"Beatrice."
Lady Fairfax gently scolded her daughter.
"Act like a lady. Such a high voice doesn't suit you."
And that was all. Lady Fairfax made no further comment.
As though she hadn't even heard the words *"some country bumpkin who came from who knows where."*
"You remember her, don't you? This is Beatrice. She'll be helping you. Say hello."
Lady Fairfax spoke so casually that both Eloise and Beatrice felt awkward voicing their displeasure.
After they exchanged stiff greetings, Lady Fairfax—as though reassuring Beatrice—said:
"Eloise left the capital as a child and doesn't know anything about life here. So help her settle in quickly. Yes, I'll write a letter about Lady Sinclair's gathering you asked about. If you accompany Eloise, I'll grant you permission."
"Is it true?"
Eloise didn't know what Lady Sinclair's gathering was, but when Lady Fairfax mentioned it, Beatrice's sullen face brightened.
"Thank you, Mother!"
Beatrice kissed Lady Fairfax on the cheek.
"To be honest, by my standards, it isn't a very distinguished gathering. But if you want to learn what's happening in the world—or hear the latest news from the capital—you won't find a better place."
At this, Lady Fairfax muttered with annoyance that there had been too many soldiers attending lately.
"In any case, show Eloise around the mansion and speak with her for a while. I'll go upstairs and rest. Yesterday's reception with Count Grant ran long, and I'm still recovering."
As she spoke, Lady Fairfax glanced at Eloise—as though curious to see how she would react to the mention of Count Grant.
But how could she react?
"Thank you for your hospitality. Please rest well, my lady."
Eloise replied in the most natural and polite manner.
Lady Fairfax, showing slight disappointment at Eloise's reaction, returned to the second floor with her maid.
Now only Eloise and Beatrice remained in the room.
Eloise looked at her with a smile.
"I'm truly counting on you, Beatrice. As the lady said, I haven't been to the capital in a long time—everything is still unfamiliar to me. I might make mistakes, so if I behave in any way improperly, be sure to tell me."
Beatrice looked at Eloise with surprise.
A few days ago, her mother had told her that a woman several years older than herself would arrive from the countryside.
She'd had no idea back then that it would affect her in any way. The Fairfax baronage—possessing many acquaintances—constantly saw new people come and go from their townhouse.
So she hadn't paid much attention. But today her mother had suddenly summoned her and announced she would have to accompany this woman for a while. And she'd grown irritated.
The winter social season would soon begin. There was so much to learn: new fashions, the new cafes, museums, and parks becoming popular among the capital's gentlemen and ladies. And she was being told to babysit a country bumpkin.
*But if I can attend Lady Sinclair's gathering...!*
**Lady Sinclair.**
A woman from a middle-class family in the capital who had gone to serve as a nurse during the war and accomplished extraordinary feats.
For this, she'd received a personal title of nobility from the Queen herself and entered high society.
Though of a certain age, she showed no interest in romance or marriage—putting her work above all else. This caused gossip among some, but she was simultaneously regarded as a very cheerful and interesting person.
Most importantly, possessing wide knowledge and culture, she not only discussed the latest events and what would happen next, but was also aware of all the newest trends in the capital. Any girl moving in society dreamed of gaining entry to her gatherings.
It was necessary to attend in order to prepare in advance the hats and dresses that would be fashionable this season.
It was also where one learned topics for conversation with well-bred gentlemen.
So Beatrice was eager to gain admittance. But Lady Fairfax—proud of her status as a baroness—couldn't stand her daughter associating with a *middle-class* woman.
And now she'd granted permission to attend the gathering she had objected to for so long.
If she could get there, this country girl could be tolerated.
Besides, she'd expected her to bristle upon hearing those words—to ask whether it was impolite. But she liked the way Eloise had responded instead, smiling and asking to be taught.
It would be nice to have someone nearby who would agree with her and adapt to her mood.
"You don't need to worry about navigating the capital, Eloise. I will, however, sometimes behave like a strict teacher. But know that this is all to ensure you don't make mistakes elsewhere."
Eloise understood the hidden meaning. It meant *don't blame me, even if I behave impolitely.*
Eloise—as though understanding nothing—answered with a bright smile:
"Certainly."
---
A few days later.
"Eloise, look! They brought a new dress for the reception! What do you think?"
Beatrice opened the door without knocking and walked in. Eloise didn't point it out.
Instead, her eyes widened in surprise, and she clapped her hands lightly.
"Oh my goodness, I've never seen such beauty! The capital's tailors are in an entirely different class. Oh, this sheen... whose silk is this?"
"Krin silk. You can only obtain it at a few places in the capital."
When Eloise enthusiastically praised the dress, Beatrice's shoulders straightened even further.
The maids who had followed her peered into the room from behind the open door in surprise.
Beatrice was a girl with a rather volatile temperament. One moment she'd be in good spirits—then minutes later, she'd suddenly grow angry and lock herself in her room.
Because of this, despite her descent from the Baron Fairfax family, she had few close friends.
And the new girl had instantly befriended Beatrice and now behaved toward her as though they were old companions.
After boasting to Eloise about her new dress for a long while, Beatrice returned to her room.
*She'll probably come back after trying it on.*
Eloise, watching Beatrice depart, thought:
*It turned out easier than I expected.*
She could have challenged the sympathetic and patronizing tone she'd felt at their first meeting.
But Eloise had chosen a different path.
She decided to pretend she didn't notice their condescension.
*This is the right approach for now.*
Apart from the house of Baron Fairfax, she had nowhere else to stay.
*Then I'll have to remain here.*
*So why create conflict?*
These were people from whom she needed to obtain as much help as possible, one way or another. Of course, the Baroness and Beatrice's attitude stung her pride—but for now, she had to endure.
*The main thing now is to find Ryan.*
Eloise, once again showering praise on Beatrice—who hastily returned wearing a different dress—thought:
*When I find Ryan, I definitely won't let him off easily.*
---
At the same time, Ryan—who was in Gilia—suddenly felt a chill and rubbed his hands together.
It was winter, so naturally it was cold. But there was a strange, icy edge to the breeze that blew past.
Shivering, he crossed his arms over his chest again and—as though looking for day labor—bowed his head and leaned against the building's wall.
*How much time has passed?*
As his twisted posture began to ache, those he'd been waiting for emerged from the building.
They walked past people who looked like vagrants, clicking their tongues.
When their conversation drifted over—spoken in the refined Gilian dialect unsuitable for these slums—a familiar name caught his ear.
**"So, Lady Sinclair..."**