Chapter 143
What had it been like the last time Isaac left this mansion? As always, he had set out very early, before the sun had even risen. Even considering that it was summer, when the days were longer, it was truly far too early, but Sasha woke on her own the moment she heard him get out of bed and change his clothes.
As she lifted her head with a tousled face and watched his back, Isaac, who had been putting on his shirt, turned to look at her. When she mumbled something, still half-asleep, he tenderly kissed her hair and whispered for her to sleep a little longer.
Sasha checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was half past four in the morning, then looked out the window. Judging by the sky alone, it was no different from the middle of the night.
No matter how many times Isaac tried to dissuade her, Sasha wrapped a thick shawl over her nightgown and staggered after him. Seeing him off was always tantalizingly brief.
As they had come to live in close quarters from the earldom onward, they had learned a great deal about the ways they differed, and small daily habits were among them. Because of his profession, Isaac was a man in whom brisk routines had become ingrained, and he rose earlier than others, living each day as though he had two or three more hours than everyone else.
Sasha, too, had spent years attending to an old woman who did not sleep late, so she had lost much of her own morning sleepiness, but compared to Isaac, she certainly rose later. And unlike Isaac, that forced pattern did not suit her at all; even if they woke just as early, Isaac’s face looked refreshed, while she kept yawning until she had eaten breakfast.
It was the same with things besides waking. Isaac ate faster than most men, and by the time Sasha had barely managed to finish half a piece of bread and was wetting her throat with water, he had already cleared his own meal and was watching her eat.
It was always a matter of him finishing everything first and waiting for Sasha as she dawdled, but there was one exception: when it came to seeing him off, he was precise as a blade.
Farewells were always short. That day had been the same.
The only time an embrace was permitted was when they reached the entrance hall and waited for the carriage. That day, Isaac was the first to wrap an arm around Sasha’s waist and pull her close as she yawned, and Sasha, stopping mid-yawn, reached out and patted Isaac on the shoulder.
“Have a safe trip.”
Sasha said it as she always did, and Isaac nodded, kissed her once on the forehead, and climbed into the carriage.
Two days had passed since the first trial ended, and a notice and summons had arrived from the Royal Circuit Court announcing the schedule for the next trial.
The rain that had begun falling the evening two days ago had continued without pause for two full days. Sasha sat at her desk, staring blankly out the window and listening to the wearisome sound of rain.
She wanted to tell Isaac at once that she was grateful he had resolved Mr. Turner’s matter, and aside from that, she simply wanted to tell him that she missed him. And as she recalled the conversation they had once shared, especially thinking of the man called General Churston who was connected to him, she prayed inwardly, begging that he return safely.
It would have been a lie to say that, apart from missing him, she felt no resentment. But because she knew Isaac’s character and the particular nature of his profession, Sasha decided for the time being to simply trust him and focus only on the matter immediately before her.
Knock, knock. With the sound of a knock, the door opened and the butler, Jason, appeared.
Behind him, Mr. Turner entered the room on crutches, supported by a servant.
“Is it all right for you to get up and move about? You were suffering from a fever until the day before yesterday.”
As Sasha pulled out a chair so Mr. Turner could sit across from the desk, she went to the window and closed it, as it had been slightly open.
“I’m all right. The fever reducer worked well. And matters like this must be done quickly.”
After saying that, Mr. Turner gave an unnatural cough, belatedly seeming to gauge her reaction.
“Of course, Miss Grayson, if you are prepared for it…”
“I am. I’ve made up my mind. It’s all right.”
Compared to two days ago, Sasha looked remarkably calm, even somewhat detached. Even after hearing Sasha’s words, Mr. Turner kept glancing at her, and Sasha laughed lightly, as though she found it amusing that he was still watching her mood.
“It seems it wasn’t a lie when you said you had grown fond of me.”
“…Yes. It seems I’ve grown very fond of you without realizing it.”
To the remark she had offered jokingly, an answer came back without embarrassment, filled only with sincerity.
Instead of replying to Mr. Turner’s words with something embarrassing, Sasha silently gazed at him.
“You don’t have to worry that I might back out. You’ve watched me for a long time, haven’t you? As you know, I’m a vulgar person, and I know all too well the greatness of money.”
“That is not why you are agreeing to this, is it?”
Sasha did not deny Mr. Turner’s words, which saw right through her, and merely smiled.
“No. In truth, it’s for survival. But at the same time, it’s also to protect something.”
“……”
“……Having something I want to protect is far heavier than I expected.”
Before Mr. Turner could reply, Sasha picked up her pen.
“Please give it to me.”
Mr. Turner took the adoption papers from the bag a servant had brought and held them out to Sasha. Sasha accepted them and, with an expressionless face, examined them carefully. The date on the documents was indeed five years ago, just as Mr. Turner had said in court.
Five years ago.
Since the old woman had been diagnosed with her illness three years ago, that had been when she was still quite hale.
I see. So she had been planning this from then on.
Sasha Grayson. Above it was written the old woman’s name. Rosalyn Margaret Grayson. Beside it, the old woman’s distinctive scrawled handwriting remained as a signature.
Sasha looked down at it with a rather peculiar feeling, then soon quickly tore her gaze away and wrote in her own name.
＊＊＊
Another day passed. Before they knew it, it was Thursday.
As the past few days had been, today too passed in a frantic rush from the morning onward.
After finishing the paperwork, the first thing Sasha did was gather the mansion’s servants. Whether out of loyalty to their former mistress, or because of the immediate hardship of reality, whatever the reason, Sasha informed the servants who had remained in the mansion and were still anxious that she had formally become the heir, putting them at ease.
Next, in Mr. Turner’s name, she announced through a society notice, along with a statement from the lawyer, that she had been formally adopted. The old woman’s acquaintances at the newspaper, who had been particularly close to her in life, thankfully accepted it readily.
There was nothing special in the contents. Since the trial was still ongoing, they avoided mention of the trial as much as possible and stated plainly only that, according to the deceased’s will in life, she had been formally adopted.
As soon as the article was published, people began sending her letters again. Of course, even before such an announcement appeared, there had been grateful people who had asked after her with concern, most notably Miss Carol, Mrs. Wells, and Matilda.
Sasha, who had not been able to bring herself to reply to their letters all this time, was only able to send her replies with a somewhat lighter heart after confirming that the article had been published. In particular, when writing a reply to Matilda, she considered asking about the situation on that side while pretending not to, but thinking that Matilda was quick-witted in many ways, she decided to simply let it be.
In the afternoon, Mr. Benson came to Dilton Manor.
Sasha had just enclosed her replies and was handing them to a servant, but as soon as Mr. Benson entered, she dismissed everyone nearby and sat facing him.
“The next trial schedule is tight as well. In my opinion, just as with the preliminary hearing, they intend to finish it quickly.”
According to Mr. Benson, it was a positive movement in a different sense from the preliminary hearing.
Sasha understood what he meant even without him explaining. Sending even a legal clerk from the royal family had clearly been the queen’s arrangement, no matter who looked at it.
There was a reason the ducal family had tried to handle the trial quickly in a summary manner. The longer the trial dragged on, the more attention it would attract, and the more Sasha’s side defended itself, the more people would dig deeper into the ducal family’s private circumstances and become curious.
Yes. For example, things like the suspicious deaths of the duke’s younger brother and his wife.
Therefore, directly accusing her from the beginning could not have been an attractive course for the ducal family either. Despite that, the reason they had no choice must have been Jeffrey, after all. Even if Mr. Turner had not added anything after that, Sasha could vaguely guess it.
Running a special report about Sasha’s identity without warning was something that could not have happened unless it had been Jeffrey’s independent decision.
Sasha recalled the duchess’s face as she had last seen it. Her face, always smiling with a chill, inscrutable expression.
‘If it were her, she would have tried to handle it quietly beneath the surface without any of that.’
She immediately recalled Miss Lytton, who had calmly approached and spoken to her at that charity event in question. If Sasha had quietly followed that Miss Lytton out, what would have happened then?
“Madam.”
Sasha belatedly came to herself and lifted her head.
“I’m sorry. The tea is gone. I’ll tell them to bring more.”
“And cookies as well, please. The ginger cookies here are quite delicious.”
Sasha nodded and called the maid waiting outside the door.
Soon the maid entered, pushing a tray, and set down a fresh teapot and a plate of cookies. Sasha stared at them, resting her chin in her hand, and was briefly lost in thought.
‘……Yes. In any case, the ducal family is already cornered.’
For the queen, simply allowing the trial to continue like this was enough to bring benefit. Even if no evidence was found, the ducal family would be intimidated and lie low for the time being.
It was not for nothing that the queen had gone so far as to send someone to help her. Sasha thought of the queen, whom she had only ever encountered in profile stamped on coins, and rubbed the back of her neck with a reluctant expression.