Chapter 47
Chapter 47
Translation: godsn
A white pigeon flew across the river.
"...Phoebe?"
Leila murmured in disbelief.
"Phoebe!"
The moment the bird perched on the balcony railing, the name escaped her lips with certainty. A red thread was tied around one of the pigeon's legs. It was indeed Phoebe, Leila's carrier pigeon.
"What are you doing here?"
Leila gasped as she approached the railing where Phoebe had landed.
With Kyle gone, Phoebe's role as a messenger had ended. These days, she was simply a beloved pigeon living with Leila. On days when the Duke went bird hunting, she had to stay caged, but otherwise, she freely roamed the forests of Arvis.
"You shouldn't come here. This place is..."
Leila shot a wary glance toward the Duke. His gaze, which had been following the boat carrying the children down the river, turned toward her.
"Phoebe."
At the name he uttered, Leila's breath hitched.
"That bird's name is Phoebe?"
"Your Grace knows Phoebe?"
"Perhaps."
Matthias tilted his head slightly.
"Why don't you ask the bird?"
"Pardon?"
"You claim to understand birds' hearts, don't you?"
"That's..."
Leila trailed off, her brow furrowing. Unable to find a proper response, she bit her lip tightly, which seemed to amuse Matthias greatly.
As if worried he might overhear, Leila completely turned her back and whispered a few more words to her bird. As if she truly could communicate with it. It was obvious they weren't pleasant words.
Soon, Phoebe flew back across the river. Only after the bird was out of sight did Leila return to her seat. Her eyes still held a trace of wariness when she looked at Matthias.
"I apologize, Your Grace."
Leila, who had been staring intently, suddenly blurted out an unexpected remark.
"I'll apologize on Phoebe's behalf for intruding here without permission."
"You'll apologize for the bird?"
"Yes."
Even to his mocking tone, Leila responded with complete sincerity.
"I don't know why she came here, but I'll train her better to prevent this from happening again. So... so, Your Grace—"
Leila's voice began to tremble.
"Please don't shoot Phoebe."
All that remained in her eyes, now cleared of confusion, was pure fear. As Matthias quietly studied those eyes, the crooked smile that had lingered at the corner of his lips vanished.
"Please."
As the silence stretched, Leila's tone grew more desperate.
"I know you're the master of Arvis, but still, Phoebe is..."
Just as she was about to swallow her pride and beg, an attendant approached. Leila pressed her trembling lips together anxiously.
The attendant informed the Duke that the company's lawyer wished to speak with him, and he temporarily left the balcony. Leila couldn't tear her gaze away from his retreating figure through the window. The horrific images of countless birds he had shot kept flashing through her mind. She knew she wouldn't be able to relax until she heard him promise not to shoot Phoebe.
Matthias returned shortly after. Though Leila usually avoided meeting his eyes, today she stubbornly kept staring at him, again and again.
"Your Grace, about Phoebe—"
"Your bird is boring."
Matthias cut off her annoying and persistent plea with calm words. Leila froze, holding her breath.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Prey that doesn't flee is dull."
"So... you won't shoot her?"
A cautious hope brightened Leila's eyes, making them shine even clearer. She stared at him so intently—it felt like the longest they'd held eye contact since Leila Lewellin had come to stay at Arvis.
"What do you think?"
Matthias met her gaze without flinching as he countered. Truthfully, he had no intention of hunting that carrier pigeon, but he didn't feel like giving her a straight answer just yet. This was the first time—seeing Leila voluntarily cling to him, wanting and begging for something.
"You won't shoot her."
"Why not?"
"Because... you're a gentleman, Your Grace."
Only when she wanted something did she remember to call him a gentleman.
The sheer audacity and absurdity of her answer made Matthias let out an incredulous laugh. Sensing his amusement might be dangerous, Leila hastily added more.
"You don't strike me as someone who'd engage in such trivial hunting."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I firmly believe the Duke—Carlsbar's finest marksman and a true gentleman—would never do such a thing."
She even nodded emphatically this time.
Matthias burst into laughter as he watched Leila's earnest expression. The attendants who had been standing back exchanged wide-eyed glances. Among them, Mark Evers, the Duke's personal attendant, looked the most astonished.
It wasn't that Duke Herhardt never laughed. But his laughter typically never extended beyond polite smiles or light chuckles. If Mark Evers' memory served him right, even during his boyhood years, the Duke had rarely laughed with such genuine mirth.
The boats that had been drifting downstream now turned their prows toward the annex. The cheerful laughter and chatter of children mingled with the Duke's unusually soft laughter.
Though Leila's eyes shone with desperate hope for confirmation, Matthias deliberately withheld his answer. He simply watched with amusement as her impatience grew, her lips trembling with unspoken pleas.
"Um... Your Grace?"
Finally, Leila broke the silence. Though her voice and gaze wavered, it differed from her usual fearful demeanor. Her slightly flushed cheeks, tinged with cautious anticipation, were rather pleasing to see. So were the way her eyes focused intently, determined not to miss even his slightest expression or gesture, and her gentle, persistent manner.
Just as Matthias was about to relent, he changed his mind and rang the summoning bell instead. At his brief command, an attendant hurried to the drawing room and returned with a cigarette case and ashtray.
"Your Grace?"
Though she tried not to sound disappointed, Leila desperately needed the Duke's answer.
Phoebe had been her companion since the pigeon was just a fluffy fledgling. More than anything, Phoebe symbolized the beautiful days Leila had shared with Kyle. Even if those days could never return, she couldn't bear to lose Phoebe too.
Matthias lit a cigarette from the silver case, letting thin smoke curl through the intentional silence. Through the haze, he saw Leila—only looking at him, those imploring eyes that he didn't entirely dislike. For a fleeting, absurd moment, he almost wished this instant could last forever.
But enough for now.
When he finally gave a slight nod, Leila's eyes overflowed with overwhelming joy.
"You truly won't shoot Phoebe, will you?"
After being deceived so often, she remained stubbornly persistent.
Matthias flicked the ash from his cigarette and finally looked away from Leila. Observing this carefully, she stopped pressing him and stepped back.
Had this been a private promise, she might have struggled to trust the Duke. But with other servants present as witnesses, she felt somewhat assured. Though Leila neither knew nor wished to know Matthias von Herhardt well, she could at least be certain he wouldn't casually break a promise made before so many eyes.
Finally able to relax, Leila exhaled in relief and gazed at the river beyond the railing. The tranquil water reflected the shadows of autumn forests. A soft smile curved her lips as she watched the peaceful flow.
She'd protected Phoebe—protected those precious memories.
As relief washed over her, her smile grew even brighter.
Matthias's eyes narrowed when his wandering gaze caught that unfamiliar expression. Why should guaranteeing the safety of one measly pigeon bring such joy? Though he couldn't comprehend it, he found himself unable to look away.
The cigarette between his long fingers burned slowly. An inexplicable irritation and restlessness rose with the smoke—something between hunger and satiation. This uncomfortable, peculiar feeling seemed as vivid as the season's vibrant colors yet as elusive as a half-remembered dream upon waking.
Matthias abruptly stubbed out the cigarette he'd been pressing with his fingernail. Though his throat felt parched—likely from smoking something he didn't even enjoy—he picked up another cigarette instead of reaching for water. The unlit cigarette trembled in the breeze between his fingers.
Sensing his gaze, Leila turned. Sunlight illuminated her face, where that smile still lingered.
Something that shone far more vividly than anger or fear, than humiliation or tears.
While Matthias was struggling to name that something, Leila hastily wiped the smile from her face. She awkwardly averted her eyes before bowing her head deeply. Though Leila was simply staring at her own fingertips, Matthias found himself tasting an intensely humiliating emotion. Mortification. It was that very feeling—the one he now clearly recognized, the emotion this woman had taught him.
Well, look at this.
Matthias let out an involuntary scoff.
Now that you've achieved your goal, you no longer need to curry my favor, is that it?
Who would have thought Leila Lewellin was capable of such sly tricks? It was absurd, yet oddly endearing. Of course, the sight of her reverting so abruptly to her usual self wasn't exactly pleasant.
Matthias clenched the unlit cigarette in his hand before tossing it into the ashtray.
Where the sunlight of her smile had been, only a deep shadow remained. Matthias found it distinctly unwelcome.
The autumn picnic came to an end with the children safely escorted back to school and then to their respective homes.
Only then did Leila realize how tense and exhausted she had been all day. A sudden wave of fatigue weighed down her entire body, yet she felt deeply satisfied with how well the first picnic had gone. It was ironic, really—the very variable she had most feared, Duke Herhardt, had ended up being the key to its success.
"For a while now, I think Young Lady Brandt will be the most envied woman in the world," Teacher Greber sighed as they walked together.
"To have both that beautiful man and his lands—honestly, the world is so unfair. When are those two getting married, anyway?"
"I believe it's next summer."
"It'll be the wedding of the century. Ah, how enviable."
Leila responded to Teacher Greber's exaggerated admiration with a polite smile.
The two parted ways at a bustling intersection. Leila, arms laden with groceries, walked toward Arvis. She planned to prepare a delicious dinner for Uncle Bill, who had been such a great help.
I should make all of Uncle's favorite dishes.
Her steps quickened with urgency, and by the time she turned onto the path leading to Arvis, she was nearly running. She came to an abrupt halt around the midway point. Almost simultaneously, a middle-aged woman walking toward her also stopped. It was Mrs. Etman—a woman with eyes just like Kyle's.
The knuckles of Leila's hands, clutching the grocery bags, turned white. What was the best course of action? No matter how much she thought about it, her mind remained blank. Pretending not to see her would be ridiculous. So would exchanging casual pleasantries.
After a long hesitation, Leila silently bowed her head in greeting. Mrs. Etman, too, accepted this compromise with a wordless nod.
But just as that suffocating moment was about to pass, the woman abruptly spoke.
"Leila."
Leila, who had been about to take a step forward, faltered and turned back.
"It ended up like this, but I truly don't regret it."
Mrs. Etman's voice was as dry as fallen leaves, devoid of either malice or guilt.
"Even if my reputation is ruined, even if Kyle has grown distant—I stopped your marriage. That's enough for me."
Would it have been better if Mrs. Etman had raged, if she had fought tooth and nail?
Each word, uttered in that weary yet composed voice, lodged in Leila's heart like a shard of glass.
Having said her piece, Mrs. Etman resumed walking, brushing past Leila. A maid who had been standing awkwardly in the distance hurried after her with quick, nervous steps.
Leila gave the maid a brief, silent nod in response to her sympathetic glance before hastening on her way. She walked with long strides—boldly, confidently. Then, at some point, she stopped like a wind-up doll whose spring had unwound.
She looked down at her feet planted on the ground. Flexed her fingers slowly, exhaled deliberately. Am I even human? It felt like a ritual to dispel the self-loathing creeping in unbidden.
Opening her eyes, Leila began walking briskly again—toward the house where Uncle Bill was waiting.