Chapter 50
Chapter 50
Translation: godsn
The Herhardt family's dinner party with relatives had the Arvis estate bustling with noise.
Having finished work for the day, Leila walked along the edge of the driveway—unusually crowded with carriages and automobiles—pulling her bicycle alongside her. Uncle Bill had also been frantically busy these past few days preparing flowers to decorate the mansion. Now that it was the season when all the garden flowers were fading, greenhouse-grown flowers had been mobilized, and any varieties not available there had to be procured from florists in town.
Leila had helped with that task. How fortunate it had been to have those busy days. Being busy gave her an excuse—that she was too occupied—to forget about the lost pen and the unanswered letter from the Duke. But that work was over now, and Leila had to return to Arvis.
The closer she got to the mansion's entrance, the slower her steps became.
Fortunately, the Duke had made no further mention of the matter. Perhaps he hadn't had the opportunity. The Duke of Herhardt had also been busy for days, and Phoebe, who had secretly been acting as his messenger, had been confined to the aviary in the backyard.
"Unbelievable. Truly."
Leila muttered those words yet again—words she had repeated hundreds of times since the night Phoebe had delivered the Duke's letter.
How had he even thought to train Phoebe as his carrier pigeon?
Though she hadn't lived very long or met very many people, within the scope of Leila Lewellin's life, Matthias von Herhardt, the Duke, was the strangest and most inscrutable person she had ever encountered.
And why did he keep taking things that didn't belong to him?
"At this point, isn't it just kleptomania?"
Frowning, Leila kicked a random pebble and grumbled.
She wanted to find the pen just as much as she dreaded facing the Duke. Though he wasn't as harsh as before, for some reason, she found herself wanting to avoid him even more desperately than ever. Her heart was clear on that, even if she didn't understand why.
Just as Leila sighed away her distress and was about to step through the side gate at the mansion's entrance, a loud car horn blared behind her. Startled, she turned and found herself face-to-face with the Brandt family's automobile.
Approaching with stiff steps, she watched as the rear window rolled down.
"Long time no see, Leila."
That familiar face—Lady Claudine von Brandt—greeted her with a smile.
"Have you been well?"
Claudine's smile brightened further as her gaze swept over Leila from head to toe in one swift motion.
Leila unconsciously held her breath. This feeling—like a child caught in some great misdeed—was not unfamiliar. It was the same sensation she had felt in front of Claudine at the end of last summer, on the day of the engagement ceremony between the Duke of Herhardt and Lady Brandt. The memory of her first kiss, stolen by Claudine's fiancé, made Leila feel unbearably small and wretched.
The Duke's gentle voice and laughter, revived in Claudine's eyes, along with the memory of his large, warm hands, dragged Leila back to that day, that moment.
Clasping her own cold, stiff hands together, Leila offered a polite greeting, as she always did.
"Good evening, Lady Claudine."
The Herhardt family's flawless dinner party held no special surprises for anyone. Not even for the two hostesses of the ducal household. In the Berg Empire, "Herhardt" was synonymous with perfection. Had the Herhardt family's dinner party been anything less than impeccable, that in itself would have sparked fervent curiosity among the guests.
"May we take a short stroll through the greenhouse?"
When it was time to move to the drawing room for conversation, Claudine carefully sought permission with proper etiquette. Flanking her on either side—included in that "we"—stood her fiancé and her cousin.
"Of course. Go ahead."
Elise von Herhardt readily agreed.
"Young people need their own time too."
At her suggestive tone, the surrounding noblewomen burst into laughter as if keeping rhythm with her.
Leaving the ladies behind as they began gossiping about young love, Claudine exited the drawing room. Matthias and Liet followed.
"Oh, Duke Herhardt. Her Grace the Dowager granted me permission today—if I become the Duchess, I may expand this greenhouse."
Claudine's bright voice seeped into the quiet night of the greenhouse.
"Is that so."
A faint smile touched Matthias's lips.
"What is Your Grace's opinion on the matter?"
"Proceed as the Young Lady wishes."
Though the answer differed not a whit from her expectations, Claudine nodded with a pleased expression.
"You may look forward to it. I have every confidence that I can sincerely love and nurture this greenhouse—Arvis's very paradise."
Claudine walked lightly along the greenhouse's promenade. Though her escort was her fiancé Matthias, most of the conversation flowed between her and Liet. It had always been that way.
"Your Grace."
Just as Claudine began chattering about the tropical flowers she would plant in the expanded greenhouse, a servant approached Matthias. It seemed someone wished to discuss business matters with him.
"Do return safely."
With a sweet smile, Claudine released her fiancé's arm.
"I'll continue my stroll with Brother Liet."
"To the Young Lady of Brandt, I'm always just Duke Herhardt's substitute."
Though grumbling, Liet readily offered his arm to Claudine.
As Matthias departed with the servant, only Claudine and Liet remained in the glass greenhouse, where the sound of the fountain's water stream rang clear.
They resumed their interrupted conversation, enjoying a leisurely walk. Claudine's plans for expanding the greenhouse were quite detailed—she seemed to have already vividly imagined which exotic flowers to import and how to arrange them.
"Your heart already belongs to the Duchess of Herhardt, doesn't it? Your love for Arvis seems greater than that for your fiancé."
Liet, who had been listening attentively, asked with a grin. Claudine nodded without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
"Either way, it's love for Herhardt."
"You're both truly remarkable."
Liet chuckled as if conceding defeat.
"Matthias has always been that way, but are you really alright with this?"
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you mean, Brother."
"Duke Herhardt will never love you. Not in the past, not now, not ever."
"Since when do prestigious nobles marry for love?"
"Well, there could be exceptions—if the Young Lady of Brandt were to decide to become the Marchioness of Lindman, for instance."
Liet's expression and tone maintained their usual sly nonchalance. Mirroring him, Claudine wore her customary smile.
"Brother, I've been coming to Arvis with my mother for ten years now."
As Claudine turned to face him squarely, Liet too stood facing her.
"You know what that means, don't you?"
"It means that for ten years, among the Empire's nobility, the Young Lady of Brandt has been considered the future Duchess of Herhardt."
"Precisely. This is why I'm so fond of you, Brother Liet."
With a soft laugh, Claudine placed her hand back on Liet's arm. Liet, too, resumed escorting his cousin as if nothing had happened. The subtle tension between them soon vanished amidst their casual conversation and laughter.
"If we expand it, I'd like to raise canaries too."
Claudine changed the subject as she examined some brightly colored pet birds.
"Ah, what a formidable pair of avian enthusiasts the Duke and Duchess will make."
Liet threw an uncharacteristically blatant barb.
"Brother."
"That bird—is it still there? The small, pretty one living in the Duke's bedroom?"
"I don't mind it. His Grace deserves at least one trivial pleasure."
"May it remain merely a trivial pleasure, then."
"It's not even worth praying over. No matter how cherished, a bird could never occupy the Duchess's seat, could it, Brother?"
"True enough."
This time, even Liet couldn't argue. However fond Matthias might be of that canary, a bird was just a bird.
"Though I wonder—how long do canaries live? Can they live long?"
Tilting her head as they turned to walk back, Claudine mused.
"I do hope that noisy little thing doesn't live too long."
"And here I thought you respected His Grace's trivial pleasures?"
"Of course, but should that bird be gone, another could always become Duke Herhardt's new pleasure."
"You know, Claudine, at times like these, I find myself sincerely wishing to bless you and Matthias."
Liet, who had been quietly studying Claudine's face, laughed with a hint of exhaustion.
"You make such a terrifyingly perfect match."
Suddenly, Liet felt a faint pang of pity for the Duke's little bird. Perhaps it was a sense of kinship—fellow pitiful creatures orbiting that terrifyingly perfect pair.
Claudine smiled with perfect innocence. Liet, who had been staring intently at that cruel yet beautiful face, impulsively blurted out:
"Shall I try befriending that bird for the sake of my dear cousin?"
"Brother, since when did you have such hobbies?"
"Not my usual taste, but it is rather pretty."
"It won't be easy."
Claudine now laughed as if genuinely amused.
"That bird may look ordinary, but its pride rivals a princess's."
"Does the Young Lady of Brandt take me too lightly?"
"Of course not. I merely stated facts. Though I am curious—whether brother can truly befriend that haughty bird."
Claudine's face, no longer smiling, grew as cold as moonlight reflecting off glass.
"If you succeed, I'll gladly send a congratulatory gift."
"What gift?"
"Gratitude and love, perhaps?"
Claudine's grip on Liet's arm tightened subtly. As their hollow smiles faded, the depth in their exchanged gazes intensified.
"Not bad."
As Liet murmured his low reply, the greenhouse door opened again.
The two slowly approached the returning Duke of Herhardt.
Neither the carrier pigeon nor Leila had come. Nearly a week had passed since the letter was sent, yet nothing changed.
Matthias looked up at the sky where the white dove had flown away and laughed. His sneer, devoid of even a trace of warmth, bordered closer to fury.
"You may withdraw now."
Standing before the balcony door, Matthias curtly dismissed the waiting attendants.
"Then we'll have the carriage ready at the annex at the scheduled time."
Mark Evers bowed respectfully before leaving with the other servants.
Alone on the balcony, Matthias gazed down at the river where the water had darkened. For a while, he could have believed she was flustered, scrambling to prepare—or too busy helping with the gardener's banquet. But no longer.
Checking his watch after adjusting his cuff, Matthias strode briskly across the balcony. There was still time before his afternoon appointment. Since it was the weekend, Leila Lewellin would likely be at her cabin.
From that fact, only one conclusion followed—and Matthias pursued it without hesitation. As he passed the river and entered the forest path carpeted with fallen leaves, his strides lengthened.
By the time his regret—that he should have wounded her more deeply—darkened beyond the hues of autumn, Matthias found Leila Lewellin. In the cabin's yard, she was hanging laundry. Serene and unhurried, as if mocking his week-long wait.
Matthias stopped and watched her. Leila focused entirely on spreading a sheet, tugging it this way and that, grunting until she finally managed to stretch it taut. When she smiled in satisfaction, his irritation flared.
Look at this.
The thought, surfacing more often lately, rose again—something mischievous and absurd, both infuriating and undeniably amusing. The kind of feeling that ultimately made him angry at himself.
The moment Matthias took a step, Leila turned her head. Spotting him, she stiffened like a wooden post. Almost cute—but Matthias quickly revised that opinion.
Leila spun and ran. Only after she vanished across the yard did he realize she was fleeing from him.
"Ha..."
Equally ridiculous—her bolting like she'd seen a ghost, and the absurd belief that she could escape him.
But judgment could wait. His hollow laugh fading, Matthias gave chase. Leila wasn't heading toward the Schulter River but the opposite direction—toward harvested fields and a stream.
The distance between them closed rapidly. As Matthias accelerated, Leila kept stumbling whenever she glanced back in terror.
She was caught beneath a willow by the stream. Seizing her shoulder, Matthias pinned the struggling woman firmly between the tree trunk and himself. His grip tightened in her tangled hair, burning with intensity.
Looking down at Leila's tear-brimmed eyes, Matthias smiled.
"Where to, Leila?"