“Lady Arwen, it’s time to wake up.”
The maid said in a stern tone as she opened the curtains.
The bright sunlight poured through the wide window, the girl lying on the bed who was trying to sleep frowned and turned around.
Another maid knocks on the side table when she sees the girl doesn’t show any signs of waking up. She put down the tray with the wash basin, lotion, and towels on it.
The basin was filled with water, the water bounced and splashed on the sheets of the bed.
“Anyway, it had never happened before. No one is going to look anyways.”
“She is daughter of a woman who sold herself to catch a man. What’s wrong with this?”
The two maids looked at each other as they couldn’t dry the bedsheets, and grunted. They nervously began to shake the girl.
It was then that the girl’s eyelids began to open with difficulty.
How dare the maids in a noble family mansion can shake their mistress roughly and be sarcastic to her like this?
It was a strange sight to see the maids trying to wake up and the young lady who did not seems to be waking up.
Indeed, the ‘lowest end’ itself.
Regardless of whether there was respect between people, it was something that should never have been happened as it was a class-based society.
This was only possible because she was a ‘fake marquis young lady’.
After the death of Arwen Amaranth, the illegitimate child was brought up as a substitute to maintain the marriage with the Duke of Blair.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, the young lady and the illegitimate child were of the same age, blonde hair, emerald green eyes, the same hair and eye color.
This is because Marquis Kyle Amaranth slept with his wife and maid both on his wedding night, and the two children inherited the color of their hair and eyes from their father.
“Come on, Lydia wake up!
“What time is it now and you’re still sleeping? How can you keep up with Lady Arwen’s like this? “
“If you want to be even a little bit like her, you should try harder.”
The continuous shouts of the maids can be heard in the marquise’s bedroom.
‘Again, a boring day begins. Can’t I just not wake up forever? I really don’t want to get up….’
The girl, Lydia, sighed and reluctantly got up.
Everyone in the Marquis praised Arwen as the most noble lady.
Pretty, kind, lovable, polite, graceful in gait and manner, embroidery, flower arrangement, painting, playing musical instruments, social dancing, writing, and tea ceremony.
From whoever she heard says, her appearance could beat the face of the goddess of beauty, her personality was like an angel descended from heaven, and her talent was like once in 100 years, it was like she was the genius of the century.
But Lydia did not believe it at all.
The marquis’s daughter was only twelve years old at the time of her death.
No matter how smart and clever she was, she was just a child.
Above all this, Lydia never saw Arwen.
In other words, the above evaluation is just the words of the Marquis of Amaranth and the employees. There was no way to know who Arwen actually was.
Perhaps she was just being sarcastic because Lydia was not fortunate enough to enjoy the things that a noble maiden enjoys even though she has a mixed bloodline.
Of course, there must be some feeling of pity for Arwen, the real girl who was born sickly and then died.
In the end, there was no other way than to ignore their unreasonable discrimination and unreasonable accusations.
Even if you argue logically, or respond with the same recklessness, you will get caught and beaten.
Lydia finished bathing and got dressed in the eccentric service of the two maids.
After that, the usual strict schedule followed.
Mainly, it was Lydia’s job to be educated the basic skills that a noble girl should have, and to memorize and imitate ‘Arwen’s Life and Memories’.
Fortunately, she was able to learn the former with enthusiasm because she knows that it might be useful to her someday in future.
The latter, though compelled to follow, wasn’t something she wanted to.
Who would like to pretend as a fake?
Lydia was only forced into doing that because of the needs of the Marquis Amaranth.
If one day Lydia could not imitate Arwen perfectly, and if anyone had any doubts, it was the fault of the marquise’s and not Lydia’s business.
Isn’t this the fault of the marquis who started the fraudulent play that might be caught in the first place?
But the Marquis of Amaranth probably didn’t think so.
His father would make her a ‘deceiver’ and humiliate her, and his wife would resent her that she had defiled her daughter’s name.
Sadly, Lydia was powerless to respond to their retaliation.
So, she has no choice but to play along with their fraud while erasing her real self.
As usual, resigned, Lydia walked out the door. And she turned to the corner to go to the ‘mirror room’.
At that moment, the maid frowned and blocked the way.
“Are you sure you haven’t forgotten what day today is?”
“It’s Wednesday. Now it is the time to learn ballroom dancing……. Oh, that day.”
Lydia’s bewildered face remembered something and it hardened.
Today was a day of unwelcomed guests.
That is, the family of the Marchioness Maeve Amaranth, family members of the Countess of Kensington.
The Counts of Kensington visited the Marquis periodically.
The visit was mainly about a week before Lydia attended a social event.
And was to check if Lydia ‘can imitate Arwen enough’.
They don’t want her to cause problems such as not recognizing her relatives at the imperial ball or saying something not sensible during the conversation.
It was the idea of Marquis Kyle Amaranth.
At first, the Marquis’ wife protested, saying, ‘Are you even using my own family now?’
Whenever the Marchioness nieces and cousins, who were the real Arwen’s cousins, visited the Marquis’ mansion, they never have been good to her.
The maid, who looked at Lydia’s pale, tired complexion, said with a smirk.
“Your relatives are coming, and you are making such a terrible face. If other people see it, they will misunderstand.”
* * *
The current Earl of Kensington and his wife had three children.
The eldest son, Theord.
Second son, Vincent.
The eldest daughter, Stella.
Is it because the age difference between the ‘real’ Marquis of Amaranth and Arwen wasn’t too big?
All of them had some contact with Arwen.
Among them, Stella was particularly close to Arwen. And she hated Lydia more.
If the two men despise Lydia for mere existence as if she were an insignificant insect, Stella despised and hated substitute Lydia for her own reasons.
She believed that Lydia cursed Arwen hoping to die, and that she was proudly enjoying pretending to be a noblewoman.
It was unfair for Lydia, who was forced to become a ‘fake’, but to Stella, the point of view of an offensive and lowly thing was not important.
Lydia’s steps to meet the members of the Counts of Kensington were as heavy.
The moment she opened the door to the drawing room and stepped inside, unkind eyes poked at Lydia.
Usually, it was polite to wait for the guest first and then get up when the host came.
But the three of them showed no sign of getting up from their seats.
Their ignorance was not new.
Lydia sat down in the empty seat without a word.
Theord was the first to speak.
“It’s been a while, Arwen.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s been three months. How have you been?”
Lydia used to converse with them in an honorific language without titles.
This is because when she calls their names, they say ‘ you are rude’, and if you call it with ‘Sir’ or ‘Lady’ as you would when dealing with other nobles, ‘Did you intend others to find out that you are a fake?’
Theord nodded indifferently.
“Well, I’m all right. Taking succession lessons, attending events from acquaintances, riding or playing cards in my spare time, nothing special. How have you been?”
“Yeah. Just being educated according to the schedule set by the marquis…….”
“Yes.”
Before Lydia could even finish speaking, Theord stopped talking and looked away. It was as if he had done everything he had to do.
To ignore as much as possible without encountering or mingling.
That was Theord’s attitude toward Lydia.
This is also not very pleasant, but it was the best of the three.
“It’s still the same that you don’t talk to me first. Not like you, who was bright and friendly. Because of this, it seems like the whole person has changed, Arwen.”
Vincent, who was silently chewing the apple pie, gave her a sharp scolding.
This strange custom of the Marquis Amaranth began a year after Arwen’s death.
Each time, Vincent did not hesitate to call Lydia ‘Arwen’, but deceptively reminded her that Lydia was a fake.
Testing her by asking who she is, what her personality is like, what she like, and what happened to the ‘real’ Arwen.
Lydia got some of them right and some wrong.
No matter how well Lydia knew what she had been told by the Marquis’ wife and her maids in advance, it was unreasonable to know all the little things.
Then, without fail, Vincent criticized her for being ‘stupid’ or ‘poor memory’.
In fact, Vincent enjoyed torturing Lydia. Like a cat playing with a mouse.
To pass by such a rare toy like ‘fake marquess lady’, Vincent was an aristocratic bad boy in a sense.
Although Lydia was annoyed by Vincent because of, she worked tirelessly to treat him amicably.
She doesn’t want to provoke the madman, and makes it more fun for him.
“Arwen, do you remember that the chef at Earl Kensington made a particularly good ‘Lemon Tart’? We really enjoyed it.”
“Oh……. It was.”
“Haha! What is ‘it was like that’! I have a lemon allergy. Even after eating grilled abalone with a little lemon juice sprinkled on it to get rid of the fishy smell, my throat still swelled up, but I’m talking about eating a lemon tart! Stupid.”
“Sorry. It would have been dangerous. I will not host a party, but I’ll try not to forget it.”
“Yeah, with your level of intelligence, you should at least try.”
tuk, tuk.
Uncomfortably, his second finger tapped against Lydia’s forehead.
Lydia said to herself again, ‘Hold on. You have to be patient,’ she repeated.
Still, it was a better situation than the last time she was slapped on her cheek with the back of the fork. However, at Stella’s words that followed, the well-behaved expressionless expression she had been keeping up was broken.
–o–
