Chapter 71
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 71
For a moment, Louise looked as if she hadn’t processed his words. The bright smile she’d directed at her son froze on her face. Her complexion paled so rapidly it was almost pitiful.
"Just now, Blair… I think Mother has had a bit too much to drink."
Her gaze went distant as she touched her own cheeks and hair, then she suddenly let out a clear, ringing laugh. Like a drunkard trying to escape reality, her lips—which had been trembling as if on the verge of a curse—curved into a perfect, elegant smile.
"I must have had a brief dream. Now I'm even hearing things."
"As soon as I break off my engagement with Sissy, I intend to propose to Vanessa."
"Just as you said, I really should… quit drinking…"
"I stopped by to tell you. I thought you ought to know."
The smile slowly faded from her muttering lips. Shock, anger, sorrow, and a sharp malice rushed in to fill the void. Her wide, breathless eyes stared blankly at her son, as if he were some incomprehensible creature she had never seen before.
"I will settle the engagement with the Bronte family within the week. Since it will be uncomfortable for you to see me for a while, I will go down to the southern estate I prepared as our marital home. Once things are sorted out there, we will leave for Nort."
"Blair!"
Finally, a shrill scream erupted like a thunderclap. Her clenched fists hammered against Blair’s chest and shoulders in a furious outburst.
"How do you think I raised you?! Do you have any idea what your mother… had to endure for your sake?!"
"That's perfect, then. You won't have to endure it anymore."
"Do you think you can ever be forgiven for treating your mother like this? Huh? Over a mere girl… how could you do this to me?!"
"Her name is Vanessa. She is not 'a mere girl.'"
Blair caught both of Louise's wrists, pinning them at her sides, and continued, his face a cold, composed mask.
"And she is the only daughter of the friend you cherished most."
"Blair Fabian Winchester!"
"I don't care if you no longer consider me your son. I didn't come here for your permission."
Louise pressed a pale, trembling hand to her forehead.
"Blair, please…"
"I intend to marry Vanessa early next year. Until then, I plan to stay in the South. If you ever find it in your heart to bless us, you are welcome to visit. We will gladly receive you."
Her lips, trembling in sheer disbelief, suddenly curled into a sharp, mocking smile.
"And did she say she would willingly marry you?"
"She'll change her mind. Especially now that her already wretched situation is on the verge of being utterly ruined."
She stared at her son with a vacant gaze, as if she had been struck. Her hollow eyes looked as if she were teetering on the edge of an endless abyss.
"Don't tell me… it was your doing? That… filthy rumor…"
Blair swallowed. A hollow laugh escaped him as he watched his mother feign shock.
Instigating, abetting, or standing by. In truth, Vanessa's wretched plight was the joint masterpiece of three men. Every single one of them had played a part.
Whatever she read in her son's unfamiliar expression, Louise slowly turned away. Her desperate hand fumbled across the table and snatched the wine bottle.
Her clumsy attempt to pry the cork out with her teeth had the desperate sloppiness of a true drunkard. After several tries, she finally managed to pull it free and tilted the bottle, but most of the wine spilled onto the table, missing the glass entirely.
Unable to contain her mounting rage, she hurled the bottle against the wall with all her might. With a deafening crash, shards of glass exploded in every direction.
"Just…"
Blood trickled down her pale ankle, grazed by a flying shard. Stumbling toward her son, Louise's eyes were bloodshot and wild. Her hands reached out pitifully, clawing at Blair's collar.
"Just kill me instead. Kill your mother."
"I am tired of these arguments."
He brushed her hands away as if merely straightening his disheveled clothes.
"Have I ever truly disobeyed you in the end? Why can you not understand that this is a matter of life and death for me?"
"Because it cannot be her! Anyone but her!"
He flinched at the shrill scream, which erupted so suddenly it was as if she had never been begging a moment ago. Louise did not miss the opening. Seizing her son's momentary weakness, she grabbed his large hand and pressed it against her tear-soaked face.
"You can bring me any other woman in the world, but not her… Blair, please… spare your mother…"
"I don't understand why you despise Vanessa so much."
Louise raised her tear-brimmed eyes and stared straight at Blair. The green eyes, the straight nose, the red hair passed down through generations of her family, the elegant features—from head to toe, he was her perfect double.
That was where her guilt had begun. This was surely God's punishment for her twisted heart—for wishing, even for a moment, that her children would resemble Raymond, the older brother, instead of Wyatt.
“Whether you were drunk or took some medicine and mistook him for someone else… they say a witness saw you go out to the garden with Wyatt.”
“But, Father… I swear to God, if I had been in my right mind, I would never have done that… You know me…”
“…Louise, you foolish girl.”
“It's true… I didn't want it. I never wanted him, not even once…”
“They say you appeared perfectly fine. We cannot hold the Earl of Somerset accountable for your ruined honor. Especially since the culprit himself has fled, we cannot demand his older brother take responsibility.”
“Father, please…”
“No matter how devastated you are, the world will never see you as a victim of coercion.”
"Blair."
A plight no one understood, and amidst it all, a sickening affection she couldn't abandon. The world had insisted it was her fault, and after days spent in silence, she eventually came to believe it herself.
"Your biological father is, actually…"
In her son’s eyes, she saw an inescapable affection for her. She saw his love for his fragile mother. He was the son who had wept and tugged at her sleeve when she had leaned over the terrace railing, ready to end her life.
He was the warped product of that warm, irresistible, and terribly fierce affection.
She had spent countless nights secretly superimposing his face onto her son's. When she had resolved to love her children despite the terrible regret, self-loathing, and guilt, she had sworn an oath: she would raise them as the heirs of Winchester. She would never let them become entangled with that family again, in any way whatsoever.
For that, Louise could be more cowardly and cruel than anyone. Even if it meant driving a blade through her own child's heart, leaving a wound so deep it would never heal.
Her trembling, delicate eyelashes fluttered shut like a sigh. A single tear fell, wetting her detestable lips.
"You were born of coercion."
* * *
The door to the dimly lit bedroom slowly opened. In the center of the room, a dark shape huddled beneath the bedsheets. The occasional sniffle and rustle of blankets suggested she had been crying for some time.
Blair quietly walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"...Blair."
Her eyes, swollen red from crying, peeked out from beneath the covers. She had spent the last few years growing up, trying to act like an elegant lady. Seeing her like this gave Blair a sudden wave of déjà vu, as if she had regressed to the age of five or six. For a moment, he forgot the gravity of the situation and simply stared at his sister.
He was transported back to the good old days.
"Did Mother… tell you too?"
He handed a handkerchief to the sniffling Rosalyn. Her eyes, brimming with tears that threatened to spill at any second, looked pitiful. Leaning his weight on the hand resting on the mattress, he reached out and brushed his sister's messy hair away from her face.
"More or less."
"Now… I finally understand Mother…"
Another sorrowful sob caught in Rosalyn's slender throat.
"Don't cry."
He offered the comfort out of habit, but he was drowning in the exact same guilt. With every breath, their original sin seemed to tighten around his throat.
Just as Rosalyn said, everything made sense now: the days their mother would stare blankly at them before suddenly bursting into tears; her drinking, which escalated every year to the point of addiction; and even their father's behavior—usually so gentle, yet occasionally pressuring their mother with terrifying intensity.
"At first, I just felt sorry for her," Rosalyn whispered, speaking of Vanessa.
"..."
"So I approached her… Remember when we were little, and we found that photo? The graduation picture of Mother and Vanessa's mother together… I wanted to be like that with her, too."
"..."
"But now… I don't know how to look at her, or how to treat her anymore. That's why I…"
Her halting, excuse-like explanation cut off. She stared blankly into space, a choked, self-mocking laugh escaping her red lips.
"She must be in so much pain right now."
"Rosalyn."
"It's horrifying. Every single moment I spent eating and sleeping in that house."
"Breathe, Rosalyn."
"I genuinely thought… it would be fine if you two got married. Even if our parents opposed it, even if you had to… run away."
He rubbed his face with a dry, rough hand. He wished he could cry like Rosalyn. Right now, he felt like a doll with a vital gear broken inside; he couldn't feel anything at all. No sadness, no anger, no irritation. He was just exhausted. And… He swallowed a hollow laugh.
If they were ordinary cousins, they could have found a way. Even if society frowned upon it, it wasn't illegal in some countries. But this was about his mother's deepest, most agonizing wound—her fragile self, left bloodied and alone while hiding the fact that she was the victim of a crime.
"Blair, I…"
Rosalyn bit her lip until it bled, letting out a wretched sob.
"I don't think… I can ever look at Vanessa again. Even though I know… it's not her fault."