Shall We Dine Together?
Ania Brontë was stubborn enough that no one in the entire empire could match her obstinacy.
Put kindly, one might say she possessed a firm will and unyielding integrity.
Put less kindly, it simply meant she was a noble daughter spoiled rotten by her prestigious household.
And so, once Ania began to sulk, going three days without food was the bare minimum, and locking herself in her room for a full week was hardly uncommon.
With a daughter so willful, it was no wonder the Duke doted on her so completely…
Rictman, chief butler of the Brontë ducal house, thought as much as he knocked upon Ania’s door.
“My lady.”
It had already been three days since Ania shut herself away in her chambers.
Rictman could not know the precise reason, yet…
Despite her stubborn insistence on dining together as husband and wife, Edward had been taking his meals alone for days on end.
Clearly something had gone amiss between them… or so Rictman guessed.
When no answer came from beyond the door, he knocked once more.
“My lady. It is Rictman. May I come in for a moment… to speak with you?”
“……”
Faced with continued silence, Rictman steeled himself for a grave decision.
“I am coming in, my lady.”
He might well earn her resentment, yet to Rictman his lady’s health mattered more than anything else.
She was already frail, and she had now gone three full days without a proper meal.
Better that he be disliked, if only he could somehow persuade her to eat…
With trembling hands he turned the doorknob and opened the door. There sat Ania by the window, her back turned to him.
Her voice was cold.
“Rictman. Did I not tell you not to enter?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady.”
He bowed as he spoke.
“Yet this Rictman places your health above all else. You have already skipped meals for three days. I could not simply stand by while fretting over your well-being.”
“If I grow hungry, I shall come out of my own accord.”
“Even so, my lady…”
Rictman gently set down the tray he carried.
“This Rictman has sworn his loyalty to His Grace the Duke; fretting over you is simply beyond my control.”
“Ahaha…”
Ania gave a soft laugh, then turned and took a bite of the bread resting on the tray.
“If Rictman insists so strongly.”
“My lady…”
The old knight’s eyes grew moist.
“It is delicious.”
“Should you require more, you need only say the word.”
“I am fine. I never meant to put you to any trouble, Rictman.”
“It is never any trouble, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
Rictman would have done anything for Ania.
Compared with all he had received from the Duke, such service was less than a drop in the ocean.
Ania chewed the bread slowly, then glanced at Rictman watching from a distance and beckoned him lightly.
“Come sit, Rictman.”
“No. How could I dare…”
“I have something to say.”
Those words startled Rictman anew.
Something to say to him…
His lady rarely addressed the servants except when making a request.
He crossed the room in a single stride and came to her side.
“Sit.”
“Then, if you will excuse me.”
Sitting stiffly and rather awkwardly, Rictman gazed at Ania with expectant eyes.
Yet her expression was somehow subdued, so he resolved to remain more solemn.
“Rictman.”
“Yes, my lady. I am listening.”
Ania parted her lips slowly, as though hesitant.
“Rictman… do you know how to apologize?”
“Yes…?”
Rictman’s mind went blank for an instant at the unexpected question.
“Apologize… you mean? The sort of apology I am familiar with…”
“Yes. The one you offer when you have done something wrong.”
“Who would dare receive an apology from my lady—”
Rictman clamped a hand over his own mouth mid-sentence.
It is the young master.
There had been some quarrel between them, and his lady wished to apologize.
The realization filled Rictman’s chest with a swelling warmth.
The young lady he had always regarded as a child had grown into an adult capable of owning her mistakes.
Yet Young Master Edward was truly a thoughtless man.
Lacking in awareness, or perhaps simply dense.
Even if he heard her clumsy apology, he would almost certainly fail to notice.
And so Rictman resolved upon an even greater decision than before.
“…Might the person you wish to apologize to be Young Master Edward…?”
“Ah—no!”
Ania’s face flushed a brilliant red.
From Rictman’s long years of experience, that meant yes.
His lady rarely voiced her true feelings, yet she was hopeless at lying.
“I see.”
“Anyway… please teach me how one apologizes after doing something wrong. You were a knight once; you must know.”
“Yes, of course.”
He steeled himself as though facing an enemy general across the field.
Somehow, he must reconcile his lady and the young master.
For that, extraordinary measures would be required.
“When one apologizes…”
It was already past six in the evening when the lights of the mansion first came into view in the distance.
Beyond the mountain ridge the sunset had withdrawn, and beneath the indigo sky white starlight glittered thickly.
Under so beautiful a sky, my feelings as I approached the mansion grew complicated.
The heart… if you do not speak it, no one knows.
Crown Prince Eldrigon’s words floated through my mind.
If you do not convey your heart, no one can know it.
Of course I understood that much.
Even if I was now merely the son of a declining count’s house, I had originally been a modern man, had I not?
Having lived in an age where freedom was the most precious value of all, I knew the importance of words better than anyone.
What troubled me was not Eldrigon’s words themselves… but the state of my own heart.
Of course, when I looked at Ania my chest would race.
When she whispered sweet things or pressed her body close, my heart would flutter.
But that was not love, was it?
If mere physical desire counted as love, then a single night’s passion would be love, and those who shared bodies in a brothel would be lovers as well.
Therefore my feelings for Ania were not love.
In the end, still unable to settle my heart, the carriage arrived at the mansion.
“We have arrived, young master.”
“Well done.”
I shuffled my reluctant feet and stepped inside.
Lorelnd came forward to greet me.
“Welcome home, young master.”
“Where is my wife?”
“She is in her room.”
“Has she eaten?”
“Not yet.”
“Prepare a meal.”
“Yes, I shall see to it at once.”
I drew a deep breath and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Yet I had no need to go all the way to Ania’s chambers.
She was already standing in the second-floor corridor.
“Wife.”
“Welcome home.”
Ania, who that very morning had worn a thoroughly sulky expression, now smiled with a faint, hazy softness like dawn mist.
“…It has been a while.”
“It has.”
I had nothing particular to say.
The words I had prepared refused to leave my mouth, tumbling into a confused jumble inside my head.
I opened my mouth to speak, closed it again, sighed softly, scratched the back of my head…
“Shall we dine together?”
That was what came out.
Ania’s expression was subtle.
Neither yes nor no—she simply smiled faintly.
“Shall we?”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall prepare myself and come down to the dining room.”
I watched her turn and start back toward her chambers—
and before I knew it I had run after her and seized her hand as though snatching it.
“Edward…”
Ania looked up at me in surprise.
“I have something I wish to say.”
I myself could not have explained why I did it, yet the words poured out of their own accord.
“About not answering when you called for me yesterday.”
“Yes…”
“It was not because I hated you… or because I was avoiding you. This is no mere excuse…”
Ania’s eyes widened into perfect circles.
Seeing that face, I felt heat rush to my own cheeks once more.
But this was not love.
I did not love Ania Brontë.
I had vowed never to give this woman my love.
Still, as Eldrigon had said, I needed to be honest.
I did not love her, yet…
We were husband and wife.
“Simply…”
After the word left me I drew a small breath.
And then I spoke a truth that contained not a single shred of falsehood.
“Simply… that day you looked even more beautiful than usual… so I found it difficult to look at your face.”
It might sound like empty flattery.
It might seem like nothing more than an excuse meant to soothe her feelings.
But a sincere heart has a way of reaching its mark.
I lightly bit my lower lip and gazed at Ania.
Because she was beautiful—
too beautiful—
the woman I knew I must not approach, yet could not stop myself from drawing nearer to.
“It is no lie.”
As I spoke those words, a heavy sensation settled in my chest.
When I looked down, Ania Brontë was already nestled in my arms.
“I believe you.”
Looking up at me with eyes already rimmed in red, she smiled more brightly than I had ever seen her smile.
“And… I am sorry as well, Edward.”
Before I could even register surprise at her apology, a soft, warm sensation suddenly wrapped around my lips.
For a moment my heart plummeted with a heavy thud—
and then Ania was already scampering away toward her room.
“It is a gift of reconciliation.”
Watching her smile with such innocent brightness, I slowly brushed my fingertips across my lips.