Momo The Promise of Marielle Clarac

1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-7183-2246-2
Verlag: J-Novel Heart
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 250 Seiten

Reihe: The Tales of Marielle Clarac

April has arrived, and that can only mean one thing-Marielle's twentieth birthday is right around the corner! Unfortunately, her joy is dashed when she flips through the latest edition of the gossip paper La Môme and finds that they've published an anonymous letter accusing Agnès Vivier of plagiarism. Though initially distraught, Marielle vows to get to the bottom of this slander. She goes undercover, scopes out snooping reporters, and even ends up communicating with her accuser through columns in the newspaper. As the plot thickens, Marielle realizes that one of the birthday gifts Simeon sent her has more significance than she thought, and she falls into some unexpected family drama...with La Môme reporter Pieron in tow! This is the eleventh volume in the adventures of this now-happily-married fangirl!

Autoren/Hrsg.

Momo, Haruka

Weitere Mitwirkende

Maro

Thairintr, Jasmin

Leseproben

Chapter Two

To those of high status, springtime was the season for social events.

Summer would also bring people together here and there, as nobles usually threw huge balls. It was an important season for the unmarried youth because it gave them the opportunity to search for potential marriage partners.

At the tea party held by the Flaubert earldom, which I’d married into, information was being exchanged all over the place. This one family’s son is this old; that other family’s daughter is with a man like . In this corner of our colorful garden, the flowers of chatter bloomed.

While learning the ropes of hosting next to my mother-in-law, I focused my ears wholly on the conversations around me. The more lively the exchanges, the more opportunities for reporting there would be for Agnès Vivier. You never knew what conversations hid hints for stories. Ever since my debut in high society, I’d been using rumors gathered from eavesdropping as references for my creations.

“...even though her oldest son finally came home.”

“It’s just too bad. She was still so young.”

“Her husband, younger son, and that son’s wife passed on before her, after all. She was so depressed.”

“Yet she still did her best for her grandchild...”

Not all of the talk I heard was happy. While some houses had been blessed with new children born in the winter, others had endured losing family members. A noblewoman from some house had died, and another’s master had fallen ill. These unfortunate incidents were spoken of too.

“Oh, right. A story by Agnès Vivier was in again.”

Just when I was starting to relax a little, I overheard a different kind of topic. I could feel my ears perking up. My eyes unconsciously scanned the area. I was excited to hear some opinions on my work.

“Yes, we read in my home as well. It’s starting to appeal more to women these days.”

“Agnès Vivier is quite popular among young people, isn’t she? My daughter is always squealing about wanting to read her books.”

“Oh, mother! You know always read the newspaper first before lending it to me!”

“I’m just making sure that the stories are appropriate for you to read.”

“Liar! You look forward to them every week!”

Noblewomen were praising my work right before my very eyes. Just as I started to feel nervous, my mother-in-law threw me a swift glance.

No matter how well received my stories were, I couldn’t let anyone know that I was the author. There were still many who held the opinion that women shouldn’t be writers. Members of the Flaubert household knew and accepted my secret, but it wasn’t because being an author had become an accepted profession for a noblewoman. No, they all just happened to be strangely open-minded.

Popular fiction, in particular, was usually met with harsh criticism.

“My, you all are reading such things?”

As expected, a thorny voice soon cut in. An older woman laughed sarcastically and put down those chatting amicably about my books.

“I wouldn’t think that ladies from proper houses would do such a thing. You must live in very liberated families. I wouldn’t even let my servants read such drivel, personally. Perhaps such a sense of modesty is considered old-fashioned nowadays.”

Her candid words made the other ladies pout in disdain, but they didn’t argue.

There were several tables around the party where we were able to chat in peace, and we could even take a stroll through the garden if we so wished. This was a tea party where most anyone could do whatever they wanted...except for at the host’s table. The seats there were specifically prepared for guests of high status. And unfortunately, this sarcastic woman was one of those.

Those of lower status couldn’t possibly hope to counter someone so high above them. Not to mention that arguing at a tea party would be a social faux pas. Controlled by etiquette, the mother and daughter who’d been admonished by the sarcastic woman had to bear it and swallow their displeasure.

The sarcastic woman cackled nasally at them, then turned her eyes back to my side of the table. “So many people have been partaking in such lowbrow activities lately! I simply cannot keep up. A sign of the times, I suppose.”

My mother-in-law smiled beautifully and responded in a sing-song voice. “Really? I think things are the same as they’ve always been. Those of older generations have always disapproved of the things young people do. They themselves were once rebellious, but as they get older, they start to disapprove. It was the same a hundred years ago, and that tendency persists even today.”

Elegant laughter rose up from around the table. Notions of agreement such as “Indeed!” and “One day I realized just how old I’d gotten. It’s horrible!” and “The phrase ‘kids these days’ has probably been used since a thousand years ago” rose up around us. Everyone could immediately tell that my mother-in-law was trying to change the subject and pretend like she hadn’t heard the sarcasm—they all knew that she was trying to help.

The sarcastic woman, who’d tried to elevate herself above the others by rebuking a shallow conversation, had been evaded so effectively that she now looked completely frustrated.

People like her did indeed exist. They always want to show how much higher they stood above everyone else, despite the fact that bringing down the mood was ultimately a show of poor manners. She was even being rude to the host, which could only mean that she looked down on Countess Flaubert as well.

Simply going by status, both women were from earldoms, but the woman was older, which was most likely why she saw herself as better. She probably felt like a “young person”—in other words, Countess Flaubert—was daring to go against her viewpoint.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, didn’t engage with her, as fighting would’ve been ridiculous. That should have been enough of a sign for the woman to give up and back down, but instead, she changed the object of her ire to me.

“Well then, let’s ask this young person here. Miss Marielle, do you have any interest in worldly trends?”

I cocked my head a bit and gave a silent smile. I then felt a knock to my knees from under the table.

I forced the gears in my head to rotate as quickly as possible. One wrong word, and the woman would turn her scorn not on me, but on the countess.

I glanced at the mother-daughter pair. Both of them enjoyed my stories. It was surely fun for them to get to chat about something they liked. Trifling as they might’ve been, those moments were time well spent.

“I believe I like to partake in trends sometimes.” With my answer, I tried to maintain the essence of a young wife in an earldom. “It would certainly be a waste for me not to take a bite of something when everyone else is saying it’s delicious. I’d have to try it for myself before shunning it and deciding it doesn’t suit my tastes.”

The mother and daughter nodded along. The other guests weren’t reacting badly either. A host’s job is to ensure that all participants are having a wonderful time.

Mother-in-law didn’t have any pointers to give me either, so it seemed I’d made the right choice. I gently put a hand to my heart in relief.

As for the sarcastic woman, she flared her nostrils at me, satisfied, as if I’d walked right into her trap. She seemed to be fully intent on honing in on me. I wouldn’t have been bothered if it were just me that she’d be putting down, but I couldn’t let her say whatever she wanted when House Flaubert’s dignity was on the line.

My body went on guard for the second blow from the woman’s parting red lips, but a voice rose up from a different direction.

“Pardon the intrusion.”

A tall man appeared on the terrace, and everyone turned toward the man’s pleasant voice in unison. It was plain to see that he had just departed from work, since he was still in uniform. He looked the part of a regal, brilliant imperial knight—his uniform was decorated with blue and gold against a white base.

All eyes sparkled when they...