Capítulo 48: 'I must turn this down'
Of all the days that passed, today was the best one so far. The sun's doing its best to warm the chilly morning, and people can be seen bustling through the window.
"Duchess? What do you think?" Amelia turned to her side and saw Marchioness Berdwell's serious stare. She never failed to amuse the duchess with how well she was managing the group of men constantly whining and nagging around them.
"Winter festivities, right?" she asked, bringing her gaze to the pieces of paper in front of her.
"We're still on the provisions, duchess," corrected Jude Colt, a scholar at the Keep and the one managing the duchy's Treasury.
"Oh, right… yes, yes. Provision, huh..." Amelia said in a faint voice, reading the words 'provision' on the first page of the report in her hands. Mentally reprimanding herself, her mind was full of thoughts of not being in the mood for a sudden council meeting—though it wasn't so sudden since she was the one to set the date in the first place. But she didn't know then that the day would be so nice to go riding.
"We recently received a letter from the emperor's advisor asking for an update on the winter provisions that Osmea always supplies to the empire. How should we respond?"
Amelia looked at the middle-aged man with long ponytailed hair and a well-tied green scarf around his neck. He's younger than her advisor but they looked equally the same. He's always extra stressed when winter comes since he'd be swamped with how to divide the duchy's produce equally.
Since Osmea's been blessed with fruitful soil partnered with relentless research on how to boost production, it's been more than enough to supply the whole empire in the most trying times when everyone's busy looking out to keep the fires on their houses blazing. Winters can be cruel at times.
"This year's better than the former so I think we will get by just fine. I have a scheduled trip to Fayburgh in the coming da—" Amelia wasn't able to finish her sentence when someone interrupted.
"Travel? After everything that happened to you? After almost being killed? You're our duchess; ruler of Osmea. We can't have you dying someplace."
It was Count Avery Royfield, Lucilla's father. He's the current head of the Keep, a research facility in the duchy manned by scholars, innovators, and researchers. Laila's mother's also a valuable member of the Keep and has been a great help to Amelia with developing their latest innovations for higher yields of wheat and other basic produce.
The others looked at her with silent judging stares, waiting for her next words. Even glancing at Maud didn't help Amelia. There was no helping it since it was the case. No sane person would be bold enough to travel after a failed assassination attempt just a few weeks ago. But she had no other choice. Amelia's been visiting Fayburgh every year since she got back and has always looked forward to it. It has become her sort of vacation amidst all the work she has to finish for the season.
"I'm not dying someplace," Amelia downplayed, looking at her advisor, but he gave her a stern no with his eyes.
"Well, you almost died in Aclador, that's for sure." The Count said and everyone nodded in agreement.
Amelia took a deep breath, massaging her temple as she looked down at the report that looked like a bunch of jumbled words all thrown in to appear formal.
Sure, this year has been full of surprising twists and turns; not to mention all the horrible things that happened to her in succession. But like what she told herself before, she didn't have a choice but to stand firmly and shake the fear away. As they said, she's a duchess, a ruler—no ruler would ever abandon her people just because she's afraid for her life. Her duchy needs her, and so does the empire. There's no way she's going to hide for the rest of the year, or until the whole thing's been resolved.
"We will send a proper reply once I've checked the production in Fayburgh. I recently received a report from them, and it looked like things have been going well according to schedule, so I don't think we would have a problem this year too." Amelia flipped the report and went ahead and read the first paragraph on the third page and so on.
Even though she only forced herself to listen, the Council Meeting finally ended just before lunch. One by one, the council stood from their chair and bade the duchess a good day before all except one was out through the massive intricately carved wooden door.
"Have you thought of my invitation well, Marchioness?"
"I am honored for it, but I don't think my daughter is ready for such a responsibility. She doesn't have a good temper, so I'm worried that she might embarrass you one way or another."
"If it's the attitude you're worried about, there's no one who can top Arabella." Amelia covered her mouth when she laughed at the thought, "Christa's been a great help to me when I was in Aclador. Constance's coming back after her wedding, but I can't have her all to myself now that she's going to build her own family. I would be really happy if you think about it some more."
"I haven't asked her yet," Maud gathered the documents before her and arranged them carefully. "I will see what she thinks about it, duchess."
Amelia softly smiled, "I hope to hear positive news," she said, placing a hand on the Marchioness' hand.
**********
Usually, Amelia would be strolling about in the garden after lunch then falling asleep at some shade—and did so by herself. But she had to change her schedule as a precaution. Instead of feeling the warm kiss of the sun and smelling the grass, she's stuck in the library, reading book after book—ones that Constance mentioned in the letter she received when they got back.
The Duchess was skeptical at first, but she seemed to have grown attached to some of it, even crying out of pity to the characters.
It's been a little over two weeks since they got back from the Capital, and in a few days would be her birthday. Since it's the same day as the incident, Amelia suggested that her celebration be moved to a much later date. Everyone at the Council agreed and the discussion ended there.
Unlike a few months ago, this time around, there was no shortage in the letters she received from Alexander. She'd receive them every other day to the point that a birdhouse was made in her balcony for his messenger bird. The letters consisted of the things that highlighted the duke's day. She knew everything that happened to Alexander as if she was there beside him. Of course, the way he worded his letters, Amelia also felt obligated to reciprocate them. And so, most of her afternoons are meant for herself and writing a letter.
Passing by the inner garden, two guards greeted her, and she replied with a nod and a smile. Not long after, she heard Laila call out from a distance. Looking back, she halted and waited for the lady-in-waiting to catch up to her.
"You're not one to run through the hallway. What's wrong? Is it urgent?" Amelia's voiced her concern as Laila always kept her etiquette with her at all times.
"You must reply to this. It's from the emperor," she said almost breathlessly.
"Emperor? Why would he—Kaerndal." Amelia took the letter from Laila's hand and opened it. She wasn't wrong, it was really about Kaerndal Palace. The place the emperor said she should celebrate her birthday. But why trouble for it? It's not like she's anyone special. And why now? Her parents have been dead for years, and every year on her birthday she's never been offered Kaerndal as a place to celebrate. If he's thinking that she would get Amelia's favor for anything because of this one thing, then he's completely wrong. The duchess wanted his blessing for their engagement more than any palace—or tiara. "I was so busy that I forgot about it. Uncle Vance mentioned it to me a while ago too," she ran a palm on the side of her hair, "I must turn this down. Remind me of my reply later."
It's not as if turning down the emperor would reflect her negatively. Amelia couldn't see why he would do such a thing when he, of all people, should know that both a tiara and Kaerndal were things only reserved for royalties. Sure, it's her debut, but she could host a party just as grand as in the Capital.
Well, at least, she thought she could. She had no idea whatsoever of how to throw a party, much more host a debut.
Sighing deeply, Amelia placed the letter on the small table in her room. She took off her shoes and slumped on the bed. She had been sitting in the council room the whole morning and her bed felt heavenly. Looking at the clock nearby, she only has an hour before Madame Camellia comes barging in again for another scheduled fitting. She's been measured and plastered against mountains of fabric for the past few days, and after that, she has to meet with her head chef, the people involved in the preparation of the grand hall, the jeweler, the shoemaker, and other handfuls of people that seemed to do the same thing as the other.
Amelia thought Vance would take care of it like he usually does, but he answered her coldly with, 'It's your debut. You're now at the legal age to make decisions solely by yourself. Think of it as your training ground.'
"It seems like I've been relying on Uncle Vance my whole life," Amelia muttered as her heart grew heavy and she looked at a distant window aimlessly.
**********
With another day gone, the pressure on Amelia's birthday grew bigger. Dreadfully looking at the tower of suggestions and preferences for the coming debut that Laila brought with her made her think that missing all those parties wasn't a bad thing after all.
From curtains to utensils to the carpet—everything needs to be decided for today.
"Can't you just pick some for me? You know me, and I'm sure whatever you chose would suit my liking too…" Amelia let out an awkward chuckle as she placed a hand on the things on her table.
"Mr. Vance said that you've been purposely missing out on your scheduled meetings for these things, so it's all piled up. You have to choose by this morning so the preparations could finally move." The way Laila worded it made the duchess look like she's been spoiled rotten this whole time, with conflicts mostly served to her on a golden platter already with a solution.
Her pride didn't tolerate it, so she sat down—frowning—and started to sort things out according to how she perceived it.
"I seriously don't get it," Amelia flatly said, putting back the pieces of silver utensils in its box. "What's the difference between these two?" She's been relying on what caught her eye first when picking. When Laila made any suggestions, she usually went with it, because to be honest, what does she know? She's never been involved in any decisions involved in running the inside of her palace and the staff.
The duchess halted. She looked at the box of utensils again and thought that she did seem like a spoiled young lady. Amelia inhaled and propped her head with her hand as she leaned on her table.
"I don't really get parties," she admitted, defeated by the thought of Sybil hosting her own tea parties at her salon now and then. How easier everything would be if only the Beaumont heir were around to decide with her. For sure, she would make a sounder decision than she, a duchess, could ever have. "Maybe I should've gone to at least one before, right? I can't be dragged by the bad memories of parties forever."
Laila looked at her sympathetically, probably wondering what to tell her. But Amelia doesn't really need any affirmations. She knew within herself that she's been dragged by her lost memory longer than she should have permitted it.
She couldn't just hide behind someone for the rest of her life. What if Vance's gone? Arabella and Laila? Constance's already leaving, so that's one less person for her to rely on. Alexander—he's too all over the place to be relied on, but Amelia couldn't also trust him with her life completely when she didn't even know why he was so adamant to marry her in the first place.
Or she did and she forgot?
Amelia growled, lowering her head with both hands through her hair. Waves of uncertainty and fear of being left alone came crashing inside Amelia. She never felt anything like this until now, and she didn't even know why today of all days when there's a ton of decisions to be made. As she felt a burning sensation at the back of her eyes, she closed it shut and looked up, slowly breathing to calm herself.
"Duchess? Is everything alright? Should I call the physician for you, or maybe Mr. Vance?"
"Ah," Amelia faced Laila and smiled at her softly, "I'm just tired, is all. There's no need to trouble Uncle. We'll sort these things out and finish quickly. I want to have lunch and leave for the Institute as soon as possible."
Right. Maybe all Amelia needed was a change of pace. She's been cooped up long enough that she's starting to think about things that she normally wouldn't.
After all the table napkin colors and wine glasses have been decided, lunch came, and Amelia had it with Laila since Vance was at another meeting with her knights. When they were finished, the duchess was quick on her feet to head back to her room and change for something more appropriate for riding.
Donning tight riding breeches and a long-sleeved wool blouse, Amelia looked straight in her mirror as she tightened her leather boots' laces. By the time she was finished, a knock sounded on her door. Giving her permission after knowing who it was, the knob turned, and Arabella entered, already dressed for riding as she just returned from her house.
"Why the long face?" Amelia wondered.
"Just because I didn't take the position as heir, doesn't mean I allow my brother to order me around," the lady-in-waiting rolled her eyes. "Maybe I should've taken it, then I'll be the one giving orders to every single one of them."
The duchess chuckled, "That's what you get for insisting on freedom." Arabella sighed and sat forcefully on a nearby stool, crossing her legs.
Not a moment longer, the duchess finished dressing. Grabbing a small pouch on one of her drawers, she pushed it into her pocket and grabbed one of her regular cloaks hanging on the rack. Another last look on her reflection and then she strutted out of the room with Arabella following her.
Amelia's agenda for the afternoon was to visit a few institutions she's sponsoring. She recently sent out a couple of supplies to some of them so she's visiting to see if they were properly carried out. But before that, she's stopping by Maple Cove, a small school that caters to the educational needs of orphaned children at the institutions run by the church. Children there were taught basic life skills that they will need in the future, as well as basic learning for them to get through life with a little more ease than others. For those children who wanted to receive higher education so they could enter the Keep, there's a special program specifically for them devised by the members of the Keep themselves. One eager mind is always welcome at the Keep.
The trip lasted them half an hour with their horses splitting through the air like some arrow to its target. She'll stop by the school first at Eblon, Osmea's town square, then visit the church to pay respect to the High Priest before proceeding with the rest of her afternoon schedule.
Seeing the crest on her horse's saddle, the gatekeeper immediately stood in attention and saluted, opening the short wooden gate for them. Amelia thanked him with a smile before coaxing her horse to move forward; Arabella, however, was business as usual. She didn't even look at him for a second.
"You should at least pretend to greet him. A nod would've been enough," Amelia whispered when they dismounted.
"I don't need to pretend to people who I'm only going to see once," she answered, and the duchess shook her head slowly after hearing it.
"Duchess!" someone called with a silvery voice that Amelia knew all too well. "Hasn't it been a very long time?" a lady dressed in a simple long-sleeved maroon dress and a hair bun smiled widely. Her arms stretched to the side, and, without a doubt, the duchess beamed and made small leaps towards the lady.
"Carmen!" Amelia squeaked as the lady hugged her tightly.
"Oh, how you've grown," Carmen muttered, pushing the duchess' stray hairs behind her ears. "But as beautiful as I last remembered. Even more."
Amelia inhaled sharply as her eyes shook a little. Again, emotions stirred up inside her and pricked her eyes. It's been a very long time since she last saw her governess, Carmen Thorne. She was as she remembered her aside from the gray hairs on her head—still the same sweet smile and soft brown eyes. Carmen has always been on the short and thick side, but her mind is just as brilliant, nonetheless.
Even more brilliant than some men at the Keep. But Carmen had to travel back to her hometown after her father fell ill and when he passed away, she left the palace and traveled to the neighboring kingdom of Ragalla in the west where her mother was from. Years passed, and when Amelia heard that she was back, she immediately asked to employ her as a teacher in the newly built Maple Cove.
"This is Miss Carmen Thorne, my former governess and currently the headmaster at the Cove." Amelia introduced, linking arms with Carmen. "And this is Lady Arabella Whitt, my lady-in-waiting."
"Greetings, Lady Whitt," Carmen curtsied, and Amelia was relieved that her lady-in-waiting was in her perfect ladylike manners. "You two must've ridden in haste. Seeing that your hair's a mess," a low, delighted laugh came out of Carmen as softly covered her mouth with her hand, "I prepared some snacks that you always asked me to when you were younger." Amelia smiled curtly at her old governess as they crossed the threshold to Maple Cove.
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