Chapter 38: Now That the Stage Is Set
The suggestion had such an immense impact that even the most seasoned noblewomen hesitated to attempt it. Yet here it was, casually proposed by a young noble lady. The room fell into momentary silence.
Then, as if pleased, a smile crept onto the Grand Madam’s lips.
“You said your name was Nora White?”
“Yes, Grand Madam.”
“You are a sharp and intelligent child. The Marchioness White has raised her daughter very well.”
“Thank you.”
The Marchioness quickly lowered her head in gratitude, discreetly squeezing her daughter’s hand under the table—a silent gesture of approval.
Clearing her throat, the Grand Madam addressed the assembled noblewomen with solemn authority.
“Aracilla Vandermeer, despite being a married woman, has neglected her household duties and shown blatant disrespect to her elders. Therefore, if the wise and virtuous ladies gathered here were to offer her proper guidance, I would be most grateful.”
It was an indirect yet unmistakable command to participate in the Passing of the Purple Violets.
Not a single woman objected.
The Hugo March was undeniably a powerful house, but Aracilla’s backing in this matter was none other than the Grand Madam of Vandermeer herself.
Moreover, they were not targeting Aracilla Hugo—they were targeting Aracilla Vandermeer.
And if the highest-ranking elder of the Vandermeer Duchy had given her approval, what reason was there to hesitate?
Most importantly, the families present were not particularly close to House Hugo.
Naturally, they would side with the house they had stronger ties to, and in this case, siding with House Vandermeer was the obvious choice.
Thus, no one objected to subjecting a young noblewoman—a girl young enough to be their daughter or granddaughter—to a social execution.
Instead, they merely smiled, anticipating the entertainment that was sure to come.
A tea party invitation arrived from the Grand Madam.
The invitation, adorned with a thin gold border and stamped with the seal of House Hounds, lay in Aracilla’s hands as she studied it with a contemplative expression.
Why would she send this to me?
Recalling the Grand Madam’s unusually mild demeanor when handing it over, she found the whole situation even more suspicious.
Even if I don’t know much about high society, I know enough to understand that inviting someone you dislike usually means you have an ulterior motive.
The problem was, she had no idea what that motive was.
Was the Grand Madam gathering noblewomen she was close to in order to humiliate her?
But if that were the case, why not hold the event at the Vandermeer estate? Why host it elsewhere?
Rubbing her temples, Aracilla decided she needed expert advice.
Fortunately, she knew just the right person—someone well-versed in the ways of high society.
“Emma, if the Grand Madam returns and asks where I am, don’t tell her. Just make up an excuse.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Despite being given a difficult task, the ever-loyal head maid bowed without hesitation.
With that settled, Aracilla set off with Audrey to meet her expert.
Even though it was an unannounced visit, the expert welcomed her warmly.
“Ari, it’s been a while.”
“How have you been, sister?”
“I’ve been well.”
Iris’s eyes curved gently with affection.
Yes—Aracilla’s expert on high society was none other than her older sister.
“You’ve lost some weight.”
Iris reached out and stroked Aracilla’s cheek with a concerned touch.
The rumors spread by the maids of the Vandermeer estate had already reached her ears.
She was well aware that the Grand Madam, having arrived from the duchy, was making Aracilla’s life miserable.
“They say the Grand Madam locks you up during mealtimes so you can’t eat. Is that true?”
“…Huh?”
The unexpected question made Aracilla blink in surprise.
The Grand Madam had delayed her meals by forcing her to serve at mealtimes, but she had never actually locked her up.
“They also say she treats you like a servant and makes you carry her around the estate on your back.”
“Oh… What else?”
“I even heard that she beats you with a whip so badly that you can’t lie down properly at night.”
Rumors, once set loose, had a tendency to snowball.
By this point, the Grand Madam’s cruelty had become an exaggerated legend, whispered in secret corners of high society.
“And the funniest part? It wasn’t even our family’s maids who spread the rumors—it was the ones who used to dislike you.”
Had it been the Hugo household’s maids, people might have dismissed the rumors as biased.
But since they came from the estate’s original maids—who had previously been distant from Aracilla—the rumors gained credibility.
Aracilla had no idea who had first leaked the stories to the outside world, but she wanted to thank them.
Still, she didn’t want her family to worry over a false narrative, so she told Iris the truth.
“It’s not that bad. My meals are delayed, and I get worked to the bone, but that’s about it. If the rumors were true, I would’ve blown up the estate by now.”
If things had truly been that extreme, she wouldn’t have bothered with patience or strategy—she would have fought back with everything she had.
The only reason she was playing this long game was because the situation, while grueling, was still manageable.
Hearing her sister’s candid response, Iris smiled.
“I never believed it anyway. No matter how powerful your in-laws are, you wouldn’t just sit there and take it.”
“Of course not. Ah, but don’t go around telling people the rumors are exaggerated.”
“Alright. I could make it even worse if you’d like.”
At the lighthearted joke, the sisters burst into laughter. Soon, they were seated across from each other in warm companionship as a maid brought out refreshments.
“There’s a reason I came to see you today. The Grand Madam gave me an invitation to a tea party, and something about it feels off.”
“Oh? If you brought it, let me see.”
“Here, take a look. Why would she invite me to someone else’s tea party when she clearly dislikes me?”
Iris examined the invitation with sharp eyes, carefully scrutinizing every inch of it.
She even held it up to the light, tilting it this way and that.
After an exhaustive inspection, she finally discovered the hidden trap.
There, in the lower left corner of the card, was a barely visible drawing of a violet, pricked into the paper as if made with a needle—no larger than a pinky fingernail.
“It’s a Passing of the Purple Violets.”
Iris set the invitation down with a hardened expression.
By tradition, the recipient of a Passing of the Purple Violets had to be notified in advance.
Of course, calling someone out too openly would make them avoid attending, so this was how they delivered the message—a nearly invisible symbol, quietly marking their fate.
“Why are they passing around violets? Ah, are they trying to send me a message through the flower’s meaning?”
Unfamiliar with high society’s customs, Aracilla had no idea what it truly meant.
The Passing of the Purple Violets was so drastic—both in effect and consequence—that it happened perhaps once a year, if that. Most nobles had never even heard of it.
“It’s similar,” Iris said, biting her lower lip. “They pretend to be offering you a flower as a lesson in humility, but in reality, they publicly tear you apart from head to toe, completely ruining your reputation.”
She exhaled sharply.
It was clear that the Grand Madam had orchestrated this, fully aware that Aracilla’s social standing was fragile.
How could she be so cruel?
Furious at the situation, Iris demanded, “What is Lord Vandermeer doing?”
“He’s investigating monster movements in the Eastern Etar Mountains. The Grand Madam arrived the same day he left.”
“So… does he even know what’s happening between you two? He knows you’re suffering like this, yet he’s just focusing on his monster research?”
At her sister’s unusually sharp tone, Aracilla rolled her eyes in thought.
She had kept her family in the dark about the conflict with the duchy while preparing for her marriage.
But now, with spies involved and the Grand Madam’s open hostility, the feud was becoming impossible to conceal.
Her family would hear of it eventually.
Instead of keeping secrets, it would be wiser to earn their support.
“If Demian were here, he’d never allow this to happen. Don’t be too angry at him, sis.”
“…But it’s his family causing you harm. How can I not be angry?”
“I understand how you feel. But he’s my husband, my choice. The Grand Madam and Demian are two separate matters.”
Since Aracilla defended her husband, Iris had no choice but to let it go.
No one wanted to interfere in another couple’s relationship.
“…Fine. If that’s how you feel.”
“Thanks for understanding, sis. And thanks for figuring out the secret behind this invitation.”
“Don’t go, Ari. I know you don’t care about high society, but getting publicly disgraced and exiled is an entirely different matter.”
This wasn’t just a social gathering—it was a trap that could permanently exile her from noble society.
Aracilla was no longer just a noble lady; she was a duchess. The consequences would be severe.
But instead of being worried, she smirked.
“Don’t worry, sis. I’ve been waiting for the right time and place.”
“…What?”
“The Grand Madam set the stage herself. It would be rude not to take advantage of it.”
Iris stared at her sister in confusion, utterly bewildered by her cryptic response.
Aracilla, about to leave, suddenly paused.
“Sis, has there been any recent scandal in high society? Something that would make journalists desperate to cover it?”
“Well… there was an anonymous accusation about a noblewoman having an affair with an opera singer.”
“Who is she?”
“No one knows. The only clue is that her initials are ‘K.’”
Hmm, interesting.
Aracilla nodded thoughtfully before asking one last question.
“Do you know any journalists who would chase a story no matter which family it involves?”
“Hmm… The reporters from Hyena News tend to be that kind.”
“Great info. Sis, you’re the best.”
After a tight hug, Aracilla left the Marquisate.
She returned home just before the Grand Madam, successfully completing her secret outing.
With that done, it was time for the next step.
She picked up a pen and paper.
A few days later, the tea party at the Hounds estate was in full swing.
It was a large-scale gathering, attended by prominent noblewomen and young noble ladies.
Aracilla, while getting ready, gave her maids strict instructions.
“Make me look sick. Exhausted. Absolutely miserable.”
Though baffled by their mistress’s bizarre request, the maids had no choice but to comply.
They dusted her face heavily with powder, making her already pale skin ghostly white.
Her lips were dulled and dried, giving her the appearance of someone gravely ill.
They contoured her cheeks to look sunken and hollow. Dark shadows were applied beneath her eyes, creating the illusion of extreme fatigue.
By the time they were done, Aracilla looked like a starving patient who hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks.
Audrey and the other maids were deeply concerned about their mistress attending the tea party in such a state.
But Aracilla?
She was delighted.
Perfect.
With her preparations complete, she departed for the Hounds estate with Audrey and two additional maids—unusual for her.
The estate had opened its largest hall for the event, and the entrance was bustling with attendees.
Aracilla was pleased.
The more spectators, the better.
The Grand Madam had likely chosen such a grand venue for the same reason—she wanted to publicly humiliate and overpower Aracilla in front of as many people as possible.
Smirking slightly, Aracilla adjusted her purse and stepped out of the carriage.
The Hounds estate’s butler flinched at her appearance but quickly masked his reaction before leading her into the hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Lady Vandermeer has arrived.”
As the butler announced her entrance, all eyes turned toward her.
With quiet composure, Aracilla surveyed the room.
Among the round tables filled with delicate refreshments, a grand table sat positioned like a throne before an enormous tapestry.
At its center, surrounded by noblewomen, sat the Grand Madam.
