About Your Pride and My Prejudice

Chapter 79:

I cried so much yesterday that my eyes turned red as if they were bitten. Stiffness every time I blink is quite annoying.

I hope it will calm down a bit tomorrow

Ugh Im so sorry, lady.

Im fine.

It wouldnt be very convincing to say that its fine with these eyes, but I didnt want to recall what happened yesterday. No wonder I didnt even write my diary last night. I dont want to leave a sentence or a word about this in it.

With that in mind, I was trying to soothe Sandra, who has already been apologizing to me with a tearful face for two days, while I tried to have the most nonchalant face I can put on. I couldnt believe it was yesterday that I cried so much that I fell down like I collapsed in the parlour in the main house.

But I couldnt go right away, so you.

.

Yes, thats right. The real tragedy was that none of the countless servants in this magnificent mansion came to pick me up. Because the piece of cloth on the body was no longer able to act as a dress, I was forced to be left in that terrible place for hours without being able to go outside.

The sound of rain hitting the window harshly, the chilly reverberation wafting through the air, my shabby and wretched self that couldnt even properly rebut the rudeness of Alans lover who committed indescribable rudeness There was nothing that wasnt sad.

So it wasnt that I wasnt resentful towards Sandra. I was humiliated by Monica Elwood, and during those hours of raging sobbing, she didnt stay by my side for a second.

That is clearly against the role of a maid. All I wanted from her was not for her to stand up against Monica, but to lend me her shoulder to lean on.

But Sandra, who came to me at night, was crying bitterly when she hurriedly covered me with blankets and led me to my room in the annex. Her plump carrot-colored eyebrows looked pathetic like a frightened animal.

So how can I reprimand her? I patted her on the back helplessly.

I was so exhausted and tired yesterday that I fell asleep as soon as I finished taking a bath. And from the time I opened my eyes until now, Sandra was crying.

Please. Please forgive me.

.

I cant fire her because Im not her master. Even though she wouldnt know it, asking for forgiveness so desperately would at least mean that she was working as a maid with sincere responsibility.

And an oddly frightened look. I am by no means the object she should fear. So the anxiety in Sandras eyes must be towards Monica, not me.

Since she has such a talkative personality, if I talked about Monica Elwood, she would have been able to say anything.

She may have done a lot to the maids who served Alan if she had such a violent temper. Maybe Sandra had a rough time with Alan when she was his maid or witnessed that?

If so, it means Monica and Alan have a long relationship, but it could be something like a betrothal relationship from childhood.  As much as a family is a family.

Anyway, it was clear that I wouldnt have suffered so much humiliation if Sandra hadnt told me that Alan didnt have a lover. I moved my lips in a deep voice.

Sandra, its all in the past. Its all right. Stop crying.

But, miss.

Let me ask you one thing instead. Didnt you say Alan didnt have a lover?

Oh.

Sandra, who hesitated with beads of tears, answered in a trembling voice.

Oh, the person who came to see you yesterday Shes not his lover. I dont know whats going to happen later, but now.

.

What does this mean? So she threatened me by pretending to be a fake lover? Or did she really promise to marry Alan Leopold?

If thats what she really is, shes technically not a lover, but shes in a position to be suspicious and angry with me and Alan.. Anyway, it was too much.

My chin and wrist are still scarred with red marks. Even now, I tremble with anger and fear when I think of the moment when she was rushing to rip my clothes.

Even though it was a problem that could be confirmed by conversation, she was busy trampling on me, far from listening to me. Shes like a raging person.

Lady

Maybe my expression was too serious, Sandra, who was slowly looking around, called me in a small voice. I was just staring blankly at the heavy drops of tears dripping down her wet eyes.

I really like you. Its painful that Im weak and cant help you..

.

I just want to tell you everything.

What do you mean?

When I asked again to the tearful maid, Sandra answered, wiping her tears with her sleeve.

Poor lady. Please give me time to prepare myself. At that time Ill tell you every story I know.

* * *

After hearing Sandras tearful pledge, I consciously tried to erase the memory of Monica Elwood.

As I grabbed the pen again and started writing the novel character by character, I felt as if I had returned to my original daily life. I filled up the diary a little by little. Such as,

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Todays diary is somewhat gloomy.

Obviously, it was a diary that I started writing lightly with the goal of a refreshing end to the day. I purposely wrote it prettier than usual, but my heart became heavy.

Its been quite a while since I came here. It is frightening to be dull. The fact that I have already adapted to life in this detached mansion that has no sense of reality as if my heart has been paralyzed is already this much.

I stand still, but only the silent seasons pass me by with an expressionless face.  I feel like Im trying to pretend I dont know the clouds are moving behind my back and the color of the sky is changing. This summer will pass like this.

When the hell can I get out of here? Now, the strong resistance I felt when I first came and the desperation to get out of here as soon as possible seem to have become foggy.

Perhaps the strangest thing is myself, not Alan Leopold or Monica Ellwood. Suddenly everything feels fleeting.

Im going to bed now.

Raising myself from the reading table and covering my diary, I proceeded to lay down in bed. Sandra, who has gone out with an empty teapot and a teacup, will be back soon, and will ask in a soft voice, Shall we prepare a bath, miss? Then I will say, No, Im just going to sleep today, and postpone my bath until tomorrow morning.

I just want to sleep like this today. It wouldnt be wrong to say it was an escape.

 Miss!

However, Sandras voice, which came as the door burst open, was somewhat agitated.

Sandra, today Im just.

The young master is here.

Ah.

It was exactly three nights after the disastrous uproar.

Alan Leopold is back.

* * *

Alan entered the smallest and most cozy dining hall in the main building.  As he approached the table with straight steps and sat down, William, the butler who followed, spoke with a cautious face.

Shall we prepare a meal?

What about the detached house?

The dinner is already over there.

Alan, who seemed a little nervous but showed signs of exhaustion, answered by loosening his cravat.

Then thats fine. Dont prepare.

Then at least the tea.

Alan didnt even look at the butler, let alone answer. He just put down a bunch of bright yellow freesias that were in his arms and changed his posture and sat down.

Or should I prepare alcohol?

.

William could easily guess that he had had a hectic day, given the momentum of his young master, who had been busy. He must have worked even harder to get back to the mansion, so it was only natural for him to look so tired.

But with Alans sharp and overbearing appearance him getting out of the carriage with a bunch of beautiful flowers in his arms It was a surprisingly unfamiliar sight to the  butler who had been by his side since his childhood.

The first thing he thought about was whether the master prepared it personally  for the Sourne woman staying in the detached house here, but it was also a ridiculous story.

Isnt that woman the author hes sponsoring as part of his philanthropic work?

They are not in a relationship to give each other flowers, but it was impossible to imagine a scene where his master, who only knew about work in the first place, picked flowers to win the favor of a woman.

Buying flowers to decorate the house is a job for the servants. What kind of change of heart. Did you encounter a poor flower seller on the street?

As soon as the butler sighed quietly with a face of incomprehension, a womans voice came from outside the door.

Master, I brought her here.

Then Alan signalled towards the door. It was shortly thereafter that two servants standing by the door hurriedly opened the door.

In front of the wide open door, a maid bowed her head deeply. Behind her, Melissa Collins, who had a puzzled face, was staring blankly at him.

Somehow Alan narrowed his brows at her sickly complexion and squinting his eyes. Then a red scar under her chin caught his eye.

Id like tea, William.

I see. Ill be right back.

All the servants retreated along with William heading to the door, and when the door was closed, a heavy silence came.

Alan said in a suppressed, low voice.

Come here.