Chapter 44

Ch. 44: Duchess Taylor

“Your highness,” Duchess Taylor replies, ducking into a respectful curtsey as well. She amusedly at the ball saddled under my foot.

“A game of kickball. Are your hands still hurt?” she asks with a look of concern. She and her attendants have made it onto the grass and approach slowly, but with purpose. Like any other well-trained noblewoman, Duchess Taylor has long mastered the art of walking with large skirts and tight corsets, appearing to glide on the grass.

Falling back to my childlike facade, I shake my head tenderly, my big, doe eyes gazing up at her as if she were a goddess.

“Marie said that because I’m young, I can heal fast!” I chirp, taking care to show my hands and emphasize my point, the way children are prone to. Duchess Taylor takes note of my normal fingers and nods approvingly.

“Are you any good?” Duchess Taylor changes the subject quickly and nods towards the ball.

“Mmhmm!” I reply, eagerly kicking the ball to Marie. I have little experience in soccer other than sweaty summers at my uncle’s house as my extended family roared at a tiny TV screen showing a game. But my kick, which flies in the air for a bit, must look impressive since Duchess Taylor and her maids nod approvingly.

The duchess makes small chatter with me and I manage to keep up, her topics ranging from the weather to how I’m liking the food. I can’t guess if there any intentions behind her appearance, but I’ve learned something new. For starters, it seems that higher-ranking noblewomen are given leeway to prowl the palace. Duchess Taylor was definitely not a part of the Empress’ posse, but she looked right at home when she appeared within the white gates of the Rose Palace. I’ve also learned that beneath her fierce exterior, is a tomboy.

“To be honest, I’ve always thought it is good for girls to run around in their youth,” Duchess Taylor says with a wistful look as fiddle around with the ball at my foot. Another fact I’ve remembered about young children: they can hardly stay still. I remember how solemn I was in my first few days at the palace and how much it worried Marie with a cringe.

.....

The maids have backed off at some point in the conversation along with my nursemaid, so it is just the duchess and I. I can feel she has some memories she wishes to divulge, so I continue running around my ball in circles with my ears wide open.

“When I was in my youth, I only had brothers, many older brothers. My mother died early, so they took a hand in raising me. I could hold my own with a sword and was could silence lechers with one look. In fact,-”

“What’s a lecher?” I interrupt. I hate myself from dragging her starry gaze back to the present, but children are fond of interrupting others with annoying questions. But thankfully, Duchess Taylor isn’t bothered and launches into a quick explanation before carrying on.

“In fact, my husband said that I seemed more like a boy wearing a girl’s dress back then. I wore my scandalously short back then and did not get along with other debutantes,” she laughs.

“Short hair is pretty,” I comment, recalling my short and cute bob from my past life, “It is easy to take care of.”

Duchess Taylor agrees quickly. “Indeed. Have you ever kept it short?”

Involuntarily, I pat my head of long, icy white hair and shake my head. “I knew someone who did,” I lie. It takes forever to grow, but I’m starting to grow fond of my strange locks. It reminds me of the princess in fairy tales, who’d let their hair grow to their feet and wistfully stare of windows dreaming of their one true love. I’m basically Rapunzel, I think with a smirk. I do not yet know how much I’m going to hate myself that comparison in a few days.

By now, Duchess Taylor’s hair has long grown out to a suitable length, twisted and knotted into a typical updo and accentuated with a lowkey tiara. The bejeweled hairpiece is a far cry from the Empress’ tiara and a crown of grey surrounds her hairline just before the crown. She has grown and matured into a proper noblewoman, along with shedding her past tomboy persona, only a spark of her past youthful rebelliousness still visible in her eyes. It feels a little sad for some reason.

“I have a gift for you, your highness,” Duchess Taylor says, looking at me fondly. She glances at someone over her shoulder and a well-trained maid runs up holding a small case. The maid’s deft fingers pry open the thin lid and something immediately sparkles under the sun, prompting me to look away for a second.

When my eyes adjust, I can’t help but gasp.

“These are...?” I ask in awe. I’ve seen my fair share of lovely jewelry since coming to the imperial palace, but almost all of was on the empress, my demon sister, or the noblewomen at Ladies’ Court. The Empress was very mindful not to leave me anything of worth and my own jewelry is comparably lackluster.

In the box the maid has opened though, a glimmering pair of earrings carved from glittering emerald steals the show. They are an appropriate size for young children, resembling studs rather than dangling earrings. But the pretty, star-shaped cut makes it unique and child friendly.

“I noticed you didn’t wear any jewelry that matched your dress during Ladies’ Court so I thought to buy you a pair. Look, we even match!” the duchess adds. She points to her ears, which have star-shaped earrings in the same mauve color as her gown. It’s a kind gesture and one that I truly appreciate.

“I love it! Love it, love it, love it!” I squeal, conveying my glee. I even pull Duchess Taylor into a hug as she is still crouched beside me, which startles her for a heartbeat before she leans into it.

She sounds slightly emotional as she keeps talking to me.

“In this life, I have never been blessed with many children. I have only had one son, Gregory, who I love very much. I always wanted a daughter, but...” the duchess lets out a long sigh, “such a blessing will not become my fortune in this life. I can’t help but see you as my own.”

Duchess Taylor had already retired to the Old Taylor home in their official province by the time Clara transmigrated into the novel, so she was only briefly mentioned at best. I know little about this woman, but her warm, grounding energy feels trustworthy.

Do I take the plunge? Should I accept the token of goodwill?

Logic dictates I shamelessly clutch onto Duchess Taylor’s skirts and reap the benefits that come with associating with one of the highest-ranked noblewomen in the kingdom. In the future, it could prevent me from getting attacked by Julia’s future goons from the webnovel and attain some respectability in this world.

But I can’t help but think of the desperate hangers-on at my private university, of which Halle was one of when she was hanging out with me. The school was a breeding ground for wealth, so not only were the popular kids good looking, but they also drove brand new convertibles and BMW’s to school every day. The wannabe boys and girls who made it their life mission to get into the it crowd did eventually benefit.

Maybe one or two would date a popular football player or get an exclusive invite to a spring break party, but overall, they had to pay a heavy price. They’d personally buy long-winded Starbucks order for everyone, serve as cannon fodder in arguments, and overall dehumanize themselves. People would spit on them and shame them for trying to be cool and a lot of times, the privileged brats they were bowing and scraping to would kick them to the side when they got tired of their personal lackey.

All for what? To be accepted into an exclusive circle that thrives on irrational social constructs? I’ve always looked down on these kinds of people and now here I am, considering being one of them. It makes me wonder if I scolded Halle too harshly in my past life about her associating with that crowd. But then I remember how she cheated with Jonathan and all my guilt washes away and strengthens my resolve.

“Thank you, Duchess Taylor! C-Can I call you something else though?” I ask bashfully as I accept the box of precious jewelry.

Unfortunately, I will have to become one of those shameless hangers-on, but if I’m going to be one, I might as well put my back in it!

“Oh?” Duchess Taylor looks a bit confused.

“Duchess Taylor takes me so long to say. Can I call you Auntie?” my little voice sounds sweet as I give her a more intimate title and sparks a genuine smile from the aged duchess.

“Yes, of course,” she replies.

I can see where Sir Gregory gets his temperament from and feel a secret thrill, the one that comes when you identify the puzzle pieces that make up a person.

“You are so nice, just like Sir Gregory,” I tell the duchess.

The duchess lets out a laugh, her somewhat deep voice falling pleasantly on my ears. “He has told me about you too. It is very kind of you to bake for the royal guard. They look upon your visits very favorably.”

I feel a slight blush on my cheeks as I reply, “I just want to do something nice for them since they are working so hard. The fighting looks amazing!”

I’m not lying as their sword fighting looks even more impressive than what I’ve watched in movies. It has been interesting to see that those stunt doubles I admired in the modern era can’t hold a candle to the sheer prowess of the royal guard. And all I’ve seen are the dregs that were left behind when my father departed to quell the rebellion, not the real professionals.

The duchess imparts a few more words before she departs, leaving me in a mood sunnier than the weather.

“She is nice!” I tell Marie enthusiastically as she leads me inside for some tea.

Marie hums in agreement and I rub my hands together, already planning the next modern pastry I’m going to create for the royal guard.