I’m Glad I Married After All

Given the small room beside the library, Marguerite spread out the belongings she had brought with her.

That amounted to only a few dresses, a single pair of heeled shoes, a token pair of earrings, several books, and her embroidery tools. There was also a fur stole that had lost its sheen, and a deep-sea coral pendant left behind by her mother. Even these fit neatly into the little room that looked as though it had once belonged to a servant.

The people of House de Broy did not find it strange that Marguerite possessed no bridal trousseau to speak of.

They interpreted it as a deliberate slight—House Clavel had intentionally sent their daughter dressed in shabby attire to show their defiance toward House de Broy. Of course, House de Broy had not provided any preparation funds either, so it was mutual.

‘The real problem is that I don’t even have a dress suitable for attending dinner… that would be going too far in terms of discourtesy.’

As Marguerite pondered what to do, her concern was quickly swept away.

When she was summoned for dinner, the place she was led to was a corner of the kitchen.

In front of her, the cooks were carefully plating elaborate dishes on plates adorned with gold patterns, but what was placed before Marguerite was bread, pâté, salad, and soup.

“Here you are.”

The maid who brought it said only that before leaving. She did not even ask Marguerite what she would like to drink.

Left sitting alone, Marguerite watched as the cooks and maids continued working busily around her.

They, too, were waiting.

Waiting for Marguerite, treated “like a servant,” to grow angry. To stand up from her chair, leave the table, and shout, “I’ve had enough. I demand a divorce!”

Since openly seeking a divorce would mean defying a royal order, House de Broy could not do that themselves. Instead, they resorted to indirect harassment aimed at the weaker party—Marguerite.

But Marguerite did not speak of divorce.

The servants learned Marguerite’s intentions only after their work ended and it was time for their own meal.

She was still sitting at the table in the corner of the kitchen, untouched food set before her.

Just as everyone began to assume she was resisting by refusing to eat—

“Oh, you’re finally done with work.”

Marguerite smiled brightly.

“Then let’s eat together. My soup has gone cold, but that’s no problem. It still looks perfectly delicious.”

As she spoke, she gestured for the servants to sit at the table.

“…What?”

The maid from earlier shot her a sharp look.

She was still young and did not seem like a veteran, yet she appeared to be in charge of the kitchen.

“I don’t understand what you mean, young… lady of the house.”

“I was waiting. Meals are better when everyone eats together, aren’t they? Since you went to the trouble of preparing a seat for me here, I thought I’d like to eat with you.”

A vein throbbed visibly at the maid’s temple.

“What are you thinking!? You are the lady of this house—Lucien de Broy’s wife! How can you smile placidly after being treated like this? Do you have no pride at all!?”

The maid slammed her hand on the table as she shouted.

‘…At least I won’t be homesick.’

Thinking of her father Maurice and her sister Isabella back home, Marguerite murmured inwardly.

This level of anger was easy to brush aside. No matter how fierce their words, unlike Isabella—who had actually scratched her face—the servants could not raise a hand against Marguerite.

“Oh my, what a strange thing to say. In that case, please treat me as Lucien de Broy’s wife.”

“…!”

When Marguerite smiled gently, the maid choked on her words.

In her family home, Marguerite had been nothing more than an elder sister. In this house, just as the maid had said, she was undeniably Lucien de Broy’s wife.

“If you can’t do that, then let me join you as one of your companions.”

The maid trembled, but seemed unable to find a reply.

“Wasn’t the instruction from the ducal house to treat me like a servant?”

“……”

The silence—Marguerite took it as confirmation.

“Then wouldn’t it be better to follow that order? It doesn’t conflict with my request, after all.”

A week passed.

She still had not met her husband, who never came to her room. Her meals were still taken in a corner of the kitchen, and the servants still barely spoke to her—but Marguerite did not mind.

The tower housing the library seemed to be built more sturdily than the others. It had excellent soundproofing and insulation, and though it had few windows, light still reached inside.

Since no one ever came, no one dumped trash into her room in passing. With no drafts, even when it rained, water would not seep in.

‘When I think about it, what a harsh environment I was living in.’

It had all become far too normal for her.

She endured, thinking there would be retaliation if she talked back, and that as long as she could bear it, she should. Perhaps that attitude had only encouraged her father and sister to grow more overbearing.

‘Since coming here, I feel like I’ve become brighter.’

The library was filled with illustrated encyclopedias, specimens, and picture-filled history books that stimulated Marguerite’s sensibilities.

She could pore over them and embroider as much as she liked. When she asked the maids for cloth and thread, they provided them—despite supposedly harassing her, their efforts were half-hearted.

As she diligently worked on her embroidery, the bell signaling mealtime rang.

She stretched broadly and put on her usual dress. There was no attendant, so she dressed herself, but since she was not meeting anyone, she felt at ease.

When she went to the kitchen, the meal was already prepared. The other servants were just beginning to take their seats.

Having finally given in, the maid had accepted Marguerite’s request, and now everyone ate together.

Listening to the lively chatter of the servants—sometimes rough around the edges—at the bustling table was genuinely enjoyable for Marguerite.

‘I really am glad I got married.’

Sipping her warm soup, Marguerite smiled from the bottom of her heart.