DYKWRI - Chapter 1

I Married Into This Family, So Who Will My Husband Choose?

We were born in neighboring domains where the local specialties are almost the same. My husband and I were raised in that kind of region. Our parents got along well; more precisely, my husband’s parents were, unusually for nobles, people of incorruptible character. By contrast, my father—whether for better or worse—has the temperament of a noble but with the acumen of a merchant, so to speak. Rather than slowly absorbing neighboring domains through behind-the-scenes maneuvering, he chose to go the route of a political marriage and joint management.

For nobles, arranged (political) marriages are common enough stories. Even if he found the idea of a political marriage distasteful in a way that was un-noble.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t think of you as my wife right now…”

“Oh my. How honest of you.”

When we reached the bridal chamber on our wedding night, my husband said the words “I’m sorry” with his mouth, but his eyes made the meaning painfully clear.

“I don't want a wife from an arranged marriage.”

The personal maid who was presented to me on the day I was married had no intention of hiding her displeasure, so I understood that there was a faction—headed by my husband—that was not reconciled to this marriage. The butler Daniel and head maid Dora seemed to understand what it meant to be aristocratic, and appeared to be trying to persuade my husband… If persuasion would not take root, then one would think they should simply cut their losses and move on at once.

“You said you cannot think of me as your wife? Then may I ask you a question, Milord?”

“What is it?”

He answered with an air of annoyance; I stared at him the way one stares at something unusual.

“Is it your declaration that you will accept the rights of nobility but abandon its obligations?”

“Wha—?”

“You are displeased with a political marriage, are you not? Then you should have chosen a station that does not require one. Fortunately, your house has a younger brother. I would have no objection if your younger brother, Lord Cyrus, were chosen as the marital partner instead. I am willing to receive the rights of nobility and am prepared in spirit to fulfill the duties that come with them.”

My implied ‘unlike you’ was apparently understood; my husband’s face tightened and he fell silent.

“Also, perhaps you are not familiar with the character of my father, Count Sebran Derby, so allow me to advise you. If word reaches him that I am being treated coldly, he will monopolize every joint enterprise we currently run together.”

“What did you say?”

“It is only natural, is it not? My father set up a trading company, but at heart he is a nobleman. With a noble’s arrogance and a merchant’s nose for profit, he will choose the option that yields the greatest returns. It was my father who pushed for this political marriage because, in his way, he holds your father, Lord Theodore Rilaias, in high regard.”

If I had continued with “but my father and yours have no ties at all,” my husband would have fallen into an even sourer silence. My father is a noble, yes, but he delights above all in creating profit, and he is sometimes mocked as a merchant born into nobility. Among those who would not hide their disdainful glances was my husband. It seems Lord Theodore’s straightforwardness did not pass down to my husband. Lord Theodore praised my father’s commercial talent sincerely, and I, for one, liked Lord Theodore very much. Lord Cyrus, the younger brother, has often said that he could not live off noble blood alone and has been asking my father to teach him business; my father seems to be rather fond of that younger son’s knack for never revealing his true hand.

“That… that would be a breach of contract!”

“You were the one who attempted to break the contract first, Milord. What nonsense are you speaking? You refuse a political marriage, you have no intention of treating me as your wife, yet you expect to partake of the profits from our joint ventures? Is that what you mean to say?”

He had clearly not considered things that far, and in doing so he exposed an honesty and short-sightedness that were uncharacteristic of the nobility. Honesty may be a virtue among commoners, but perhaps the kind of honesty sought by noble society is different; he had not paused to consider that.

“Perhaps in two weeks my father will come here unexpectedly. If I express a wish to return to my parental home at that time, he will surely grant it. No, not out of mere fondness for his daughter, but because a daughter who has been slighted by her marital family is pitied—and if an ignorant person who does not understand the meaning of a political marriage ventures to keep agreements with our investors, the investors will doubt his competence. A few well-placed murmurs during visits to the joint venture investors will be all that is needed.”

“But then the Rilaias family—”

“Well then Milord, you have three choices.

One: treat everything I have said as a lie and exclude me from the management of the joint enterprises. In that case I will insist on a white marriage and return to my parental home. For the Rilaias house to continue, it would be best if your younger brother Sir Cyrus were made heir; my father would likely lay down arms then. Sir Cyrus does, to an extent, admire you, and he would probably take on the responsibility of looking after things in your stead in return for the joint venture rights being relinquished. My father is well acquainted with Sir Cyrus, so a profit split of, say, seven to three rather than the current five to five would be acceptable.

Two: acknowledge me as your wife and hand over the management of this household to me entirely. Of course, I would not meddle in your business affairs. A wife’s duties are to run the house and social engagements. I will need to learn some matters regarding the domain, but given your track record there should not be many cases that reach me directly. After producing an heir with me, a discreet lover who knows his place would be tolerable.”

When I mentioned involvement in the domain’s affairs, my husband’s stiff expression softened a little. The younger brother’s behind-the-scenes maneuvering was impressive; he managed things so that they would appear to be my husband’s achievements without my husband realizing it.

“Three: renounce your noble status and descend to the town. You would be free of political marriage obligations. You might be rendered unable to have children, but you could adopt one from an orphanage and live with the one you love as a family. I can arrange introductions for you to find work, and I will persuade my father not to threaten your livelihood.”

I posed the question: what will you do? My husband thought for a moment, then bowed his head deeply to me.

It seems that he reached an answer.

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