Chapter 31: Tailor
As servants opened the manor’s grand doors and readied the carriage outside, the Marquis and his wife personally escorted the two of them to the entrance.
"We appreciate you making the time to visit us, Marie... and you as well, Ilya."
The Marquis extended the customary farewell with a courteous smile, while the Marchioness stood in silence beside him.
"It has been far too long since we’ve all sat together like this. Once everything regarding the Crown Prince’s funeral has settled, you should both come visit the Marquisate. The doors of House de Montreuil will always remain open to family."
Mariya inclined her head gracefully.
"Thank you, Father. We’ll be sure to visit when circumstances allow."
The Marchioness stepped forward and gently took her daughter’s hands into her own.
"Until then... take care of yourselves. The coming days will not be easy for anyone."
Mariya smiled reassuringly.
"We’ll see each other again soon."
"There won’t be much time before we meet again. The funeral is only a few days away."
The Marquis gave a solemn nod.
"Indeed."
"For now, may the Lord watch over both of you until we meet again."
With their farewells exchanged, Ilya offered Mariya his hand as she stepped into the waiting carriage.
Once she had settled inside, he followed after her, and, at the signal from the coachman, the horses began to move, carrying the carriage away from the Montreuil capital branch estate.
Before long, it disappeared beyond the estate gates.
Only after several moments of silence did the Marchioness finally let out a sigh.
"That boy... is he even still alive?"
* * *
"Now, then." Mariya turned toward him with a gentle smile. "Would you show me around the capital, Ilya? It’s been years since I last visited, and I can’t help but wonder how much it has changed since then."
She glanced out the carriage window, watching the streets blur past one after another.
Though the Imperial Capital had always been magnificent, the city was constantly reinventing itself, with new districts, grand avenues, and fashionable establishments rising alongside landmarks that had stood for generations.
Even from within the carriage, she could already tell that time had left its mark upon the city she had once known.
"I’ve heard they’ve opened several new cafés and boutiques along the central boulevard. They also say a number of galleries, public gardens, and concert halls have become quite fashionable among the nobility over the past few years, and if the newspapers are to be believed, the old Salon de Valmont has finally completed its renovations and reopened its doors."
"...Yes."
"Since I’ve already come all this way, I’d very much like to see how the capital has changed, and whether the city still has the same charm I remember."
Ilya nodded. "Of course, Mother. There’s still plenty of daylight left, so we won’t need to rush. If there’s anywhere in particular you’d like to visit, I’ll make sure we stop there first."
"Then, first... why don’t we have a proper wardrobe made for you?"
"A wardrobe...?"
"Yes. More specifically, a number of tailored suits. Your old clothes no longer suit you, and you’ve grown considerably since I last had your measurements taken. It would be a shame to let such an appearance go to waste just because your wardrobe failed to keep up."
"...Pardon?"
With that, the carriage made several turns before eventually arriving at one of the city’s most prestigious tailoring houses.
The moment they stepped inside, an attendant promptly approached to receive them with impeccable courtesy.
"Welcome to Maison Laurent."
Before the attendant could inquire further, a voice called out from the rear of the atelier.
"Who has—"
An elderly gentleman emerged from behind a curtain, impeccably dressed in one of his own creations. His eyes settled upon Mariya, whereupon surprise gave way to admiration.
"My Lady..."
He immediately offered a deep bow.
"I never imagined I would have the honor of welcoming Lady Mariya de Montreuil into my establishment again. The years have been kinder to Your Ladyship than they have been to the rest of us."
Mariya covered a small smile behind her hand.
"You’re every bit the flatterer I remember, Monsieur Laurent. I’m afraid your compliments have only become more extravagant with age. And it’s Mariya Karlovna Belozerskaya now."
Laurent paused before smiling apologetically.
"My sincerest apologies, My Lady." He bowed once more. "It seems this old man has been holding on to memories of years gone by."
Marriage into the great houses of the North carried traditions unlike those observed in the rest of the Empire.
A noblewoman who entered a Northern lineage was expected to adopt not only her husband’s family name but the naming customs of his homeland as well, setting aside the naming style of her birth in favor of one recognized by Northern society.
Thus, the young lady once introduced throughout the Empire as Mariya de Montreuil had, upon marrying into House Belozersky, become Mariya Karlovna Belozerskaya.
"There is nothing to apologize for," Mariya replied with a gentle smile. "It has been many years since I was last addressed by my maiden name. I suppose it’s only natural that some still remember me that way."
Only then did the tailor’s attention turn toward the young man standing beside her.
"And this handsome young gentleman is...?"
Ilya was about to introduce himself when Mariya answered first.
"My son."
For a moment, surprise crossed Laurent’s face.
"My apologies, Young Lord. I should have introduced myself first." He bowed respectfully. "Laurent, at your service. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Ilya returned the gesture with a courteous nod.
"The pleasure is mine."
As the introductions concluded, Ilya leaned closer toward Mariya, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"...People are remarkably bold."
Mariya let out a soft laugh.
"They’ve always been. When I was younger, gentlemen would travel astonishing distances simply to ask me for a dance, a conversation, or the privilege of escorting me through a ballroom. Did you know? Some of them even challenged one another to duels, convinced that defeating their rivals would somehow win my affection."
She smiled to herself before shaking her head.
"They were all rather foolish. Youth has a way of convincing people that love is a prize to be claimed."
Laurent chuckled. "Whether they were foolish or not, My Lady, no one could fault them for trying."
"Now then," Mariya said. "I’ve brought you a far more important client than myself today. My son has grown considerably, and every suit in his wardrobe has become hopelessly small. Would you be so kind as to take his measurements?"
"It would be my pleasure, My Lady."
He smiled politely before turning to Ilya.
"Young Lord, if you would be so kind as to accompany me to the fitting platform, I’ll have your measurements taken. It won’t take long, though I would ask that you stand naturally and refrain from adjusting your posture."
Ilya offered a courteous nod before following Laurent deeper into the atelier, where a raised fitting platform stood beneath a row of tall mirrors.
No sooner had he stepped onto it than several attendants approached with measuring tapes, notebooks, and pins already in hand.
"Young Lord," Laurent began, adjusting the measuring tape across Ilya’s back, "has My Lady been treating you well?"
"...Yes?"
Ilya turned his head, unable to hide the puzzled look that crossed his face.
Of all the questions he had expected while having his measurements taken, that was certainly not among them, and even the attendants glanced toward their master before returning to their work.
Laurent chuckled good-naturedly, seemingly unfazed by the reaction.
"Forgive an old man’s curiosity," he said with an apologetic smile. "I knew Lady Mariya long before she became Lady Belozerskaya, back when she was still the jewel of House de Montreuil. Seeing you here today simply made me wonder what sort of mother she had become after all these years."
He continued measuring the length of Ilya’s sleeves before stepping back to scrutinize him from another angle.
"...Mother has been a very good mother," Ilya answered. "If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I would still be here today."
"...I see."
For a long moment, Laurent said nothing.
Then, without looking away from the notebook in his hands, he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Would you do this old man a favor, Young Lord? I’ll have every suit discounted. Consider it a personal courtesy."
"What is it?"
Only then did Laurent raise his eyes.
"Please..." he whispered. "After this commission... never return to this shop with Lady Mariya again..."
"...."
Despite saying that, Laurent’s expression never changed, a refined smile expected of one of the capital’s foremost tailors.
"What are you—"
"My, my..." Laurent interrupted, as though he had never said anything unusual. "Lady Mariya wasn’t exaggerating. You’ve grown into a remarkably fine young gentleman. Your shoulders are broad, your posture is excellent, and your proportions are unusually balanced. Clothing such as this simply won’t do you justice any longer!"
"...."
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