Chapter 37 Miguel Supports Her
Echo bowed respectfully, her tone earnest: "Ms. Hamilton, I'm willing to go through fire and water for you, whatever it takes."
Orla's personal slip was exactly what she had secretly obtained.
On the night Vida was beaten to death, Echo took the initiative to find Cressida, begging to take Vida's place.
The chance to serve beside Cressida—that honor and prestige was enough to tempt any maid.
Cressida gave her an opportunity to prove her loyalty.
Echo was shrewder than others. She understood well the principle of "a servant cannot serve two masters."
So Echo decisively chose to pledge her loyalty to Cressida—even though the contract was still in Clio's hands, she knew clearly that the one who could truly decide her fate was Cressida, who held the real power.
On the surface, Echo was still Clio's maid, but in reality, she had long become Cressida's planted spy.
"Emma, give Echo the storage room tokens that Orla and Vida managed."
"Thank you for your grace, Ms. Hamilton!" Echo couldn't hide her smile as she bowed in gratitude.
When Emma brought the carved silver tokens and handed over a heavy bag of gold coins, Echo's smile could no longer be contained.
"From now on, I will be utterly loyal to Ms. Hamilton and follow your lead!"
"You may go." Cressida's tone was flat. Echo bowed respectfully and left the room.
After Echo left, Emma's expression grew serious, and she said worriedly: "Ms. Hamilton, can Echo be trusted?"
Cressida walked to the vanity and sat down, letting Emma brush her long hair.
Cressida said unhurriedly: "Emma, you need to remember—people like this who come for personal gain will eventually betray you if there's a bigger temptation."
"What we need to do is make full use of her while she's still valuable, and when she's no longer useful, make her pay the price."
Emma seemed to understand, sighing softly: "I never thought Echo would betray Ms. Hamilton for her own advancement. She and Orla and the other four grew up together on the estate since childhood."
Cressida laughed lightly.
"Have you heard of the legend of 'the Golden Apple'?"
"No, Ms. Hamilton."
"Human nature has its weaknesses, especially among these four maids of equal status and circumstances. They can share hardships together, but they absolutely cannot stand seeing others do better than themselves." Cressida's fingertips traced through her hair ends. "I only need to throw out a little bait, and they'll turn on each other."
Emma looked at her with admiration: "Ms. Hamilton, you're truly brilliant!"
Emma had a question in her heart: Could the reason the royal army at the border was invincible be precisely because of Cressida's strategic planning abilities?
Cressida had been stationed at the border for ten years and won battle after battle, relying not only on her superior martial skills but also on her talent for understanding people's hearts.
She had mastered the strategy of "know yourself and your enemy, and you'll never lose" to perfection.
As long as she figured out the character weaknesses of enemy commanders, she could find the key to victory.
Those seemingly flawless opponents, if they had fewer troops than her, would ultimately still face defeat.
Emma suddenly remembered: "Ms. Hamilton, there's still Zola left."
"No need to worry. Echo will deal with her. With Orla's example, Echo will only see Zola as a threat."
After speaking, she touched her somewhat dry hair ends.
During those years at the military fortress, she had no time to care for her appearance.
After returning to Emerald City, although she had been recuperating under Emma's care for some time, Cressida's hair was still rough.
"Bring me the scissors."
Emma handed over a pair of silver scissors. Without hesitation, Cressida cut off a finger-length section of her hair ends and threw it into the fireplace flames.
"Ms. Hamilton!" Emma was shocked.
In aristocratic thinking, hair symbolized dignity and respectability. Cutting one's hair casually was considered a major matter.
The flames licked at the hair strands, the dancing light reflected in Cressida's eyes, igniting fierce ambition.
"Emma, wouldn't a noble Ms. Hamilton who cut her hair to show her resolve after being treated coldly by her birth mother, and then fell into water and became feverish and unconscious, make people feel very sympathetic?" Cressida asked.
Emma immediately understood Cressida's intention: "I'll go spread the news right away."
"Also, send a letter to Princess Russell for me, saying I'm too ill to attend the banquet and asking for her understanding."
This move gave Cressida a legitimate reason to refuse Sophie without offending her.
Since Cressida had chosen to align with Miguel, she had to draw clear boundaries with other factions.
Otherwise, appearing to play all sides would actually result in being manipulated by all factions, ultimately leading to a dead end.
Having fought on the battlefield for years, Cressida had long mastered these tactics of calculating people's hearts.
Even Ursa, whom she met today, would probably spare no effort in spreading today's events.
Because the Woods family, fearing their daughter's reputation would be ruined, would definitely explain things publicly to avoid having their daughter implicated.
Cressida closed her eyes and rubbed her aching temples. She had pretended to cry too many times today and really needed to rest.
Meanwhile, Reid rushed over anxiously to ask Clio.
"Clio, my wife is still locked up in prison. When can she be released? The family is worried sick."
Usually cautious, he didn't dare raise his voice to Clio now, only daring to ask quietly and anxiously.
Clio was in the middle of her own troubles and said: "Go back and wait for news. When Mr. Hamilton comes back, I'll tell him about this. It's just a small matter, won't be much trouble. She'll be released tonight at the latest."
Reid wanted to voice his concerns but was afraid of being scolded, so he left reluctantly.
After he left, Rose came over with an ugly expression.
"Mother, if Father finds out about this, will he scold us when he comes back?"
After all, they hadn't consulted Patrick beforehand about this action.
"No," Clio was quite certain of Patrick's character. "I just need to say that Cressida deliberately made a big fuss without regard for the family's reputation, and he'll be angry with her."
Rose nodded lightly.
Clio pressed her temples: "I just didn't expect this Cressida to be so prepared. I was careless this time—the losses are too heavy!"
Rose said nothing, thinking about other matters.
At this moment, Miguel was walking in black leather boots into the imperial study in the palace.
Inside the study, candles blazed, and expensive agarwood incense released thin wisps of smoke.
Doyle was reading a secret report that had just been delivered to the palace.
"Miguel, take a look. It's about the Hamilton family again." Doyle didn't hide it and handed over the secret report.
Miguel sat in a rosewood armchair, the hem of his dark robe embroidered with dark gold patterns, as striking as the sharp lines of his temples when he lowered his head.
He read for a while, then put down the letter.
Doyle happened to be somewhat displeased and said: "Such a scandal in the church—why can't they ever settle down?"
He had already given the Hamilton family enough respect. Cameron died on the battlefield, which pained him greatly, and he even had all of Emerald City collectively mourn. Wasn't that enough for this family?
Miguel pressed his lips: "The grace Father gave didn't go to the right person."
"What do you mean by the right person?"
"It should have gone to General Hamilton's sister, Cressida."
"What's the difference? She's the Hamilton family's daughter."
"It's different," Miguel said. "The Hamilton family doesn't like this daughter. They took General Hamilton's military merits but won't share them with her. They want to force her out, which is why there's trouble."
Thinking of Cressida, Doyle couldn't help but remember that at the banquet, she had very tactfully asked him to withdraw his order.
It was precisely the way out she gave him that allowed Doyle to back down gracefully and cancel the collective mourning in Emerald City.
As for Cressida, Doyle thought she was smart enough—at least more perceptive than her father Patrick.
"On Christmas Eve, I bestowed a meal—I already made my position clear. Do they still dare to look down on her?"
"This just shows Patrick is stupid and didn't fully grasp Father's meaning. If Father doesn't handle this seriously this time, Patrick will dare to cause trouble again next time. Think about it—what can Cressida, a young woman, do to resist?"
Disrespecting royal authority was touching Doyle's biggest taboo.
"This Patrick—I know he's not very capable, but he has a good son, otherwise he wouldn't have gotten to this position. I didn't expect him to be so confused and foolish." Doyle said seriously.
He immediately ordered the guards: "Summon Patrick to see me!"
Doyle's tone wasn't good.
Miguel stood up: "Father, you attend to your business. I'll go visit Mother."
"Good," Doyle remembered something and added, "Odette is selecting a princess consort for you. At least don't disappoint her."
Miguel's robe hem had already swept past the threshold. Without responding, he left.
He walked under the corridor. The cold wind of deep night passed through Miguel's robe. Behind him, the palace lantern held by the old guard swayed, casting mottled light and shadow on the ground.
The old guard said: "The prince spoke up for Ms. Hamilton."
Miguel glanced at him: "She's my person now. In this first confrontation, I should back her up."
"Yes," the old guard added, "In the guards' testimony, that Zaid's words slandering Ms. Hamilton were extremely vile."
Miguel's steps paused slightly as he thought of Cressida's tearful, cold face.
Her crying was an act—he could tell.
But even so, he could sense her helplessness even more clearly.
A person who was soft on the outside but strong inside, forced to use tears to disguise and protect herself—that in itself was a kind of torment.
For a moment, Miguel actually felt some pity for her.
Thinking of this, he turned his head and ordered the old guard: "After the interrogation, cut out Zaid's tongue."