CHAPTER 83: TEA PARTY AT THE COUNTESS’S (3)

Hearing a sudden noise in the garden, all the ladies present at the tea party instantly jumped up from their seats.

Teacups rattled on porcelain saucers, and spoons, not yet touching their lips, froze in midair.

The conservatory, previously filled with the soft hum of women’s voices discussing the latest gossip from high society, suddenly fell silent.

"Oh my God... what was that?" muttered one of the ladies, hastily getting up.

"It’s coming from the garden!" replied another.

"We must check immediately!" said Countess Rowan, rising decisively. There was no panic in her voice, only the cold alarm of someone accustomed to taking responsibility.

She was the first to head for the exit, her skirts rustling across the floor, and the other ladies followed her like a flock of frightened birds.

I got up with the others, feeling my heart beating anxiously somewhere in my chest.

Ruby.

Thoughts flashed instantly — only about her. If something had happened to her...

I tried to walk quickly but with restraint so as not to betray my excitement. Nevertheless, chaos reigned inside me — thoughts swirled like leaves in a whirlwind. "What if there’s been some kind of accident?" whispered an anxious inner voice.

I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms, and forced myself to breathe evenly.

"Please let her be okay," I whispered softly, clutching the hem of my dress as we walked along the stone path leading to the garden.

The scent of roses and jasmine lingered in the air, but at that moment it seemed almost out of place — too calm and sweet against the backdrop of my growing anxiety.

When we finally entered the garden, an unexpected sight met our eyes.

"Oh my God! What happened here?!" Countess Rowan exclaimed first, running closer. Her voice echoed through the garden, and several birds flew up from the trees, frightened.

I paused for a moment to take in what I was seeing.

All around, on the neatly trimmed lawn, stood children — frightened and confused. They huddled in a semicircle, and in the center, as if on a stage, was the cause of all the commotion.

A boy sat on the grass, eight or nine years old, wearing an expensive suit but covered in dirt. His face was frozen in shock, and his eyes were full of tears.

Next to him, slightly ahead, stood Ruby.

My Ruby.

Her dress was also a little wrinkled, and there was a fresh scratch on her cheek — thin but bright red. My heart immediately sank.

"Ruby!" I called, and my voice sounded louder than I expected. "Ruby, are you okay?!"

The girl turned to me, looking upset.

"Auntie... I’m fine," she replied quietly, lowering her eyes.

"But how..." I hurried over and sat down next to her, gently touching her face. "What’s that scratch? Where did you get it?"

Ruby hesitated, not answering right away. She looked confused, as if she didn’t know what to say, and her lips trembled slightly. She bit her lower lip, as she always did when she was confused.

"It’s... I..." She faltered, biting her lip. "It’s okay, Auntie. Really."

But I could see that it wasn’t okay. There was a flash of guilt and anxiety in her eyes.

Meanwhile, behind us we heard an alarmed female voice:

"Dennis! What happened?!"

We all turned around. A woman in her forties, wearing a bright sapphire-colored dress and a luxurious hairstyle adorned with feathers, was rushing toward us. It was the Marquise Balmer, one of those who had attended the tea party.

Her face was pale, and her eyes were wide open. The marquise was known for her temper and her love for her son, whom she spoiled beyond measure.

"Mama!" cried the boy, still sitting on the ground. His voice was tearful, and he reached out his arms to his mother.

She rushed to him, helping him up. Her face showed pure maternal concern mixed with irritation — perhaps even anger. She hugged him, brushing the dirt off his clothes, her hands trembling.

"Dennis, dear, what happened? Did you get hurt? Who did this to you?!" she asked, examining him from head to toe as if looking for wounds.

"I... I..." the boy sniffed, trying to hold back his tears. "She... she..." He pointed at Ruby. "She attacked me!"

I felt the tension thicken instantly. Several ladies standing nearby exchanged glances. Some covered their mouths with their fans, others raised their eyebrows curiously. Words flashed in their whispers: "attacked," "Lady Weinstein’s niece," "how dare she."

"What? Is that true?" they whispered. "Lady Weinstein’s niece attacked the Marquis of Balmer’s son?"

I felt the inner cup of my patience almost overflow. My heart sank, and blood rushed to my head — a mixture of rage and anxiety.

Ruby was my niece, and I knew how fragile a child’s psyche could be, especially at such a tender age.

Besides, Ruby had never been aggressive; on the contrary, she always tried to avoid conflict. Her character was so gentle and yielding that she preferred to back down rather than get into an argument.

She was like a little angel, full of kindness, and the thought that she could push or hit someone seemed absurd to me.

For this reason, I was not going to allow these people to continue accusing her without listening to both sides.

"That’s impossible!" I blurted out before I had time to think clearly about the situation. "Ruby would never do such a thing."

However, almost immediately there were exclamations and objections. The ladies standing around like a flock of curious birds exchanged glances full of doubt and condemnation.

"Lady Weinstein, but you saw him lying on the ground!" said one lady, her voice full of doubt. "It can’t have been an accident, can it? A child couldn’t just fall like that!"

Another lady nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses sparkling with curiosity.

"Yes, it looks like she really did push him."

I stepped closer to Ruby, instinctively shielding the girl with my body.

I pressed my lips together, trying to stay calm, even though I was boiling inside. Although everything that was happening seemed completely far-fetched and unfair to me, there was nothing I could do about the fact that other people besides me couldn’t believe Ruby was innocent.

Their minds were poisoned by prejudice, and they saw only what they wanted to see.

Without proper explanations, it was extremely difficult to understand the situation. So in the end, I decided to gently address the girl, trying to keep my voice soft and soothing despite the storm of emotions inside me.

"Ruby, can you explain what happened here?" I asked, kneeling down to be at her level. Her eyes, full of anxiety, met mine, and I saw excitement in them.

She was twisting the hem of her dress, as she always did when she was nervous, and her lips were trembling slightly. The ladies around us fell silent, waiting for an answer, and even the wind seemed to die down.

Ruby looked at me and said in a quiet voice, barely audible:

"That boy attacked me, and I just pushed him away... I didn’t think he would fall."

Nevertheless, the boy, Dennis, who was standing next to his mother with his face red with anger, looked as if he was about to explode.

"What? I attacked him first?" he exclaimed indignantly. "She... she attacked me! I was just defending myself!"

The marquise also straightened up, her eyes flashing. Tension hung in the air: the marquise pulled her son close, hugging him by the shoulders, and her gaze became sharp and accusatory, like the tip of a dagger.

"Lady Weinstein, you can see that my son claims that your niece attacked him first. How can you explain that?" the marquise said in an icy voice, her tone full of superiority and hostility.

She looked around for support, and her eyes lit up when she noticed some of the ladies nodding in agreement.

I took a deep breath, feeling that in this situation I had a duty to defend my niece’s rights.

"In my opinion, it is obvious who is the offender and who is the victim here," I said in a firm voice, trying to sound confident despite the storm of emotions inside me. My words echoed through the garden, causing some of the ladies to flinch and the fans in their hands to freeze.

"What?!" exclaimed the Marquise of Balmer, her voice rising to a high note full of indignation. Her son, Dennis, clung to her even tighter, his little fists clenched and his face contorted in a grimace of hurt.

"There is a scratch on my niece’s cheek," I said coldly, pointing to Ruby, whose cheek was indeed slightly scratched, with a thin red line showing that she had been hurt. "That is more than enough for me. I will not let anyone who tries to harm my niece go unpunished."

My words sounded sharp and cold. The whispering only intensified after that.

The Marquise of Balmer took a step back, clearly offended that I had openly opposed her and her son. She frowned, her eyes darting around as if seeking support.

At that moment, the hostess and organizer of the event was about to intervene.

"Lady Weinstein, you..." Countess Rowan cautiously spoke up to intervene in the situation, but I cut her off before she could finish her sentence. My voice, full of determination and anger, drowned hers out, and I felt all eyes turn to me.

"I demand an apology to my niece right now," I said, pointing at Ruby.