Unwittingly, I Thought She Was Truly Lovable
Nearly a week had passed since I attended Count Orland's ball.
The turbulent events of that night felt like a lie; the week that followed had been peaceful. As always, I would rise in the morning, take my meal, train with the sword or delve into magical tomes, and sometimes stroll alone through the garden—an ordinary week. Outwardly, nothing could have seemed more serene. Yet inside, my heart was a tangled mess.
It's all right now.
Ania's expression from the count's ball, when she had spoken those words, kept rising vividly in my mind. That face which had smiled with seeming composure, yet held sorrow in her eyes.
"Haa...."
My feelings were hopelessly complicated. At times like this a cigarette would have soothed me, but unfortunately that was impossible. Edward's body would not permit it. I had managed to procure one and bring it to my lips, yet my hand simply would not light it. What a wholesome young man he was. Thinking that, I resolved simply to endure.
Ania had seemed rather busy of late. Married or not, she was still the eldest daughter who would inherit the Brontë family, and so she had to attend to the family's business affairs. As a result she was frequently away from the manor. That was fortunate, in its way. I already found it awkward to face her.
By contrast, I had little to do. Count William Radner had ruined every business venture, leaving the Radner family with nothing but the management of its knight order. Of course there was no need for me, the eldest son, to involve myself even in that. William could handle it alone, and I was, for all practical purposes, a member of the Brontë household now. So once sword practice ended I would simply stare out the window with nothing better to do. Yet whenever I looked at the garden thick with blooming Geumdonghwa, Ania's face rose again, and that left me feeling strange as well.
A week passed in that fashion, and Ania returned to the manor. Looking out the window I caught sight of the carriage she rode in. Through the carriage window her face looked a little weary, and that expression once more called up the sorrowful look I had seen at the ball, so I found myself following her face with my eyes. I stared without thinking, then came to myself and shook my head.
Madman...
Unwittingly, I had thought her truly lovable. Because of that, I no longer knew with what face I ought to meet the returned Ania, and confusion seized me. I tried to read a book, yet could not concentrate in the least and was gnawing on the end of my pen when it happened.
"Husband."
Ania suddenly came looking for me in my room. She knocked and waited for an answer, yet the words "come in" would not leave my mouth.
"Husband?"
She knocked a few more times, then opened the door. My heart pounded. And so... I hid behind the wardrobe. Even I found it ridiculous and absurd, yet no other course occurred to me. I simply could not face Ania's expression and pretend nothing was wrong.
"He's not here..."
A dejected voice reached me, followed by the sound of the door closing.
"Why did I..."
The shame flooded in only after she had gone. However uncomfortable I found Ania, there had been no need to pretend I was not there. Thinking that, I leaned against the window seat—and a woman slipped quietly past through the garden. It was Ania. I startled and hid myself by reflex, but her head had already turned.
"Husband?"
Her voice called to me from outside the window. I ought to answer... I thought so, yet I could not lift my head. For the moment I did not wish to face Ania. No—I could not face her. If I met her now, I had no idea how this complicated heart of mine might move. That pitiful face might rise before me and I might pull her into my arms. Those eyes that had glittered with the sorrow of a wounded animal might press upon me until I kissed her. But was that my heart, or Edward's? Whosever heart it was, if I kept facing her I might lose it entirely. So only for a little while. Until that sorrowful expression of Ania's faded from memory, I would simply avoid her for a little while. My heart, ignorant of my own resolve, hammered away.
Ania always read before sleep. It had begun at her father's insistence that cultivation mattered, and had long since become habit. Yet today the letters would not enter her eyes. At last she closed the book, rose quietly, and went to the window to look outside. Clear winter had begun to arrive. The cool air grew steadily colder. Ania took a thick fur coat from her room, drew it on, and slowly opened the window.
He definitely... avoided me.
Edward had avoided her. He had always treated her coldly, yet at the ball had he not danced with her and laughed with pleasure? Had he not saved her when she nearly was kidnapped? Had he not grown worried the moment he realized her ankle was hurt? And so she had thought he might have opened his heart a little. And so, for a moment, her heart had swelled. All week long, even while she traveled the empire on business, that thought alone had filled her mind. Edward as he had held her hand and danced at the ball. Edward as he had flushed at the ears while treating her wound, looking embarrassed. Edward as he had lightly brushed her hair in the carriage. Each of those moments had lodged like thorns deep in Ania's heart, so that even during business meetings she could scarcely concentrate. Thus she had resolved that once she returned to the manor she would spend time with Edward. They would tend the garden together, walk, and she might pretend not to notice and lean against him just a little.
Ah... Edward.
The time she had gone without seeing him had been far too long. The mere thought of it wrapped her chest in a tingling excitement.
"What is this."
Yet after all that longing for their meeting, why must she feel like a discarded woman? The heart that had been swelling cooled in an instant. Ania felt even her fingertips tremble faintly with the complicated emotion. Just what... was making him avoid her? Perhaps it was the attack on the road to the ball. He already disliked a marriage that had felt like being sold, and then he had been hurt protecting her. If Edward had not been a knight of such skill he might well have died. Or was it the gossip at the ball? Had he simply believed the baseless rumor that she lured men to their deaths? She had not meant for him to think that, yet it was easy enough to misunderstand. Rumors were always like that. Ania felt as though she might burst into tears. She tried to hold them back, yet her eyes reddened and even when she covered them with her hands the tears spilled out anyway. She tried to catch the drops that forced their way between her lashes, but they streamed uselessly down and soon fell one after another, soaking her knees. What if Edward hated her forever? What if he never wanted to see her face again... Ania wept without end, and in the room that grew steadily colder she sat through the night without end.
I only grasped the seriousness of the situation the next morning. As usual a servant announced mealtime and I went down to the dining hall, only to find it looking a little empty. Sure enough... Ania was not there. Of course she always came down later than I did, yet an uneasy feeling still settled over me. The faces of the servants waiting in the dining hall had gone pale. With a stiff expression I stopped a passing servant and asked,
"Why does everyone look like that?"
"Young Master... the thing is..."
She glanced around carefully, then whispered into my ear.
"The young lady... said she would skip breakfast this morning..."
"What. Why?"
"I do not know. When I asked the reason she only told me not to enter her room..."
My blood ran cold. She had seen. She had seen me at the window yesterday. I had thought she had not, yet Ania had clearly seen that I was in the room and had pretended not to be.
"The young lady does sometimes grow angry like that, but this is the first time she has been this furious."
The servant trembled as if terrified, and only then did I notice Rictman, his face ashen. When Rictman lifted his head our eyes met.
"Young Master..."
"Rictman."
"Young Master... I beg you. Could you please ask the young lady why she is angry?"
He was nearly on the verge of tears.
"This is Rictman's lifelong request."
"......"
For a moment I felt sorry for Rictman, who would have to bear the full force of Ania's anger, yet I came first. Ania being angry was one thing, but I still could not find the courage to face her. In the end I let out a quiet sigh inwardly and picked up my utensils.
"I shall eat first."
"Young Master..."
Rictman's shoulders sagged with the look of a man betrayed, but this once there was nothing I could do about it either.