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Chapter 169 Was This Really the Right Thing to Do?
The place Marguerite brought Ortansia to was a dimly lit room in the basement.
Seeing what hung on the wall, Ortansia's breath involuntarily hitched
It was a whip used for punishing people.
‘Could this be... a punishment room...?’
She had learnt in history lessons that whilst most such rooms had been abolished from a humanitarian perspective, in the past it wasn't uncommon for nobles to use whips to punish servants.
For an estate as large as the Vérité ducal household, it wouldn't be strange for there to be a dedicated punishment room.
In the original world, Ortansia had never known of the punishment room's existence.
‘Because I had no need for it.’
Ortansia had never wanted to punish servants with a whip.
But Marguerite was different.
‘Have I really displeased her to this extent...?’
She was trying to punish Ortansia by physically tormenting her, even going against humanitarian principles.
‘Because of me…’
Ortansia had only wished for the happiness of Gérard and Marguerite, of the Vérité ducal family.
How had things come to this?
"Now, hold out your arm."
Marguerite, brandishing the whip, commanded imperiously.
Ortansia timidly rolled up her sleeve and placed her arm on the desk.
"What pretty hands you have... I wonder if you've been shirking your work?"
Seeing Ortansia's white, lustrous hands, Marguerite muttered resentfully.
Wretchedness welling up within her, Ortansia bit down hard on her lip.
"Listen, Ortansia, this is discipline. Discipline for you, who have been negligent in your duties and dirtied my dress."
"...I understand."
"The fault is entirely yours. So... you're not to tell anyone about this. Understood?"
"...I won't tell anyone."
"Hmph, you're certainly glib. Acting like that around my brother... no, never mind."
Marguerite cracked the whip irritably and glared at Ortansia.
"Don't bite your tongue."
Saying this, she brought the whip down hard on Ortansia's defenceless arm.
"Ngh...!"
A searing pain shot through her, and the scream she'd been holding back escaped.
When she timidly opened her eyes, a vivid red line had risen on Ortansia's arm.
"This is proof of your negligence. How shameful. If anyone were to see it, it would show that you're an incompetent person. So... you must never, ever show this to anyone."
"...I understand."
There was no way Ortansia could tell anyone that she'd been punished by Marguerite in the first place.
‘...It's all right. If I just endure this, things will surely work out.’
Wiping away involuntary tears, Ortansia told herself this.
...If she didn't, her spirit would break.
---
After that, Marguerite's tyranny continued.
She took to pressing impossible demands on Ortansia at every opportunity and sabotaging her work.
Of course, if Ortansia couldn't manage well, a whipping in the basement awaited her.
Multiple red lines were carved into Hortensia's white skin, to the point where she had to take care not to be noticed by Pamela when changing clothes.
‘Was this really, truly the right thing to do...?’
With each passing day, Ortansia couldn't help but ask herself this.
No matter how many wounds Ortansia accumulated, Gérard and Marguerite's relationship showed no signs of deepening.
Rather, it seemed to her that Ortansia's very existence was warping Marguerite, the beloved ducal daughter.
‘Is this the happiness I wished for the Vérité ducal family, for Brother...?’
Marguerite's behaviour was abnormal.
Ortansia knew that things couldn't continue like this.
But... What should she do?
If Ortansia were to say something like "I've been punished by Miss," the peace of the Vérité household would surely be shattered.
As if lost in darkness, she didn't know what to do.
The first to notice Ortansia in such a state was... Gérard, as expected.
"You're looking uncommonly gloomy."
Called out this way by Gérard, whom she had happened to pass in the corridor, Ortansia's heart jumped.
When she stopped, Gérard turned an enquiring gaze towards her.
"...I apologise."
Ortansia apologised in a low voice.
At this, Gérard furrowed his brow as if finding this unexpected.
"I'm not telling you to apologise. ...Why on earth do you have such a look on your face?"
...She had thought she was managing to keep up appearances.
She'd even kept it hidden from Pamela, with whom she spent so much time.
So why... could Gérard see through her?
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