Chapter 162
The kettle set over the embers began to whistle. “I’ll do it,” Isaac said, and went straight to it.
Sasha was absorbed in the card game. She did not even look his way.
Isaac poured the boiling water into a cup and brought it to Wilson. Mrs. Wilson glanced back and said to Isaac, “Thank you, Captain.” Then, like Sasha, she returned her attention to the card game.
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh, as you can see… Well, I imagine I’ll be hospitalized for several months yet. You’ve been to see His Majesty, haven’t you?”
Wilson asked, taking the cup with his uninjured arm. When Isaac stared at him, Wilson shrugged as if it were nothing much.
“You smell of roses all over. At this time of year, even half an hour in His Majesty’s garden is enough for the scent of roses to seep into your whole body. The noble gentlemen even stop by salons they had no plans to visit after going there. To show off the fragrance clinging to them.”
“…Ah, yes. The roses were… beautiful.”
Isaac glanced over the side of his wife’s face as she concentrated on the game.
“Since when has my wife been coming here?”
Wilson seemed to find Isaac, whose thoughts were painfully transparent in every way, rather amusing. He looked at Isaac with a smiling face and told him it had been about three days. Isaac nodded stiffly, as if creaking. It matched exactly the length of time he had been away on business.
“I’m glad Mrs. Fincher comes by every day. My wife is so busy spending time with her that I’m pushed aside. And for my part, I’m happy to see my wife smiling…”
“…”
“In any case, if you don’t want to end up like me later, you’d best retire soon, Captain.”
Wilson added in a murmur, then drank the water after letting it cool a little.
At the word retire, Isaac wore a sour expression for a moment, rubbing his chin and drawing out the silence for some time before he barely answered, “…Yes.” As he looked at Sasha’s profile with rather complicated feelings, his expression hardened once more.
It was because he saw Sasha exchanging words with Cedric.
“Mr. Osmund, the trump suit is hearts right now, isn’t it? I haven’t quite learned all the rules of this game yet.”
The three of them were playing a game called Whist. It was a game Isaac had played before as well. Probably… he had tried it once when he had stopped by home during leave a few years ago. He had gotten sick of Caroline tormenting him to her heart’s content and quit after a couple of rounds, but he remembered the rules clearly.
“That is correct, madam. Hearts are trump, and at present you must follow the spade that Mrs. Wilson led. If you have no spades…”
All of a sudden, a hot presence thrust itself beside his face. Cedric, who had been tilting his head ever so slightly toward Sasha, started violently and looked back. A bearishly large man was looking down at him, holding out a cup filled with scalding hot water.
“Jack, we’re still in the middle of the game.”
“You can drink water while you play.”
Regardless of what Sasha said, Isaac held the steaming cup out toward Cedric. With a pale face, Cedric answered, “Thank you,” and took the cup, only to nearly drop it at once because it was too hot.
Sasha looked between Cedric and Isaac as if this were something out of the ordinary, then said, “Will you bring us each a cup too?” indicating Mrs. Wilson and herself. Only after confirming that Cedric had returned to his original seat and was now as far away as possible did Isaac answer.
“I’ll let the ladies’ cups cool a little before bringing them. And…”
“And?”
“Actually, I bought the blended tea you like. If that would be all right…”
“Lovely. One cup each, please.”
Sasha brightened and readily agreed.
Wilson, who had been leaning against the bed drinking plain water, began, “Now, wait,” but Isaac was already heading toward the shelf where the spare teacups were kept.
Even while brewing the tea, Isaac was focused on the low murmur of conversation behind him. Mrs. Wilson kept dropping hints now and then to help Sasha win, and Sasha was groaning softly as she chose her next card. Cedric was quiet.
Why on earth was that man here with them? Isaac had already heard that he was hospitalized in the same hospital, but he had not known he would be spending time with his wife like this. Had Sasha forgiven him already? That man had conspired with Robert Bloom to seize her property.
Or had Sasha and that man been maintaining an acquaintance all along somewhere he knew nothing about? After all, she was the sort to exchange letters with a great many people, so it would not be strange if that fellow were among them. Besides, that man had, in any case, even danced with her on the night of the party. Which meant that in the beginning, Sasha had considered him to some extent as a prospective marriage candidate…
His endless train of thought finally came to a stop.
Isaac carried the two over-steeped cups of tea to the ladies and handed them over. Mrs. Wilson thanked him, took a sip, and at the astringent taste, her eyelashes trembled faintly.
“Sasha.”
Isaac stepped up behind Sasha and, as if offering advice in his own way, said, “The queen of spades would be best.”
Sasha looked back at him. She had, of course, not even touched the tea Isaac had brought her.
Sasha smiled silently. Isaac now knew all too well what that smile meant.
Soon, Sasha chose a card with her finger and laid it on the table.
It was the ace of hearts.
“You’ve won, Mrs. Fincher.”
Cedric quickly said, as if he had been waiting for the moment, and set down his cards.
“Ah, look at the time already.”
With a somewhat exaggerated gesture, Cedric looked at the clock on the wall and rose. The clock was broken, and it pointed to 9:20 in the morning. After Cedric hastily left Wilson’s hospital room, Sasha also rose from her seat to return to her own room.
After they finished saying goodbye to Mrs. Wilson, who looked regretful, and to Wilson, who kept glancing at Isaac as if he found everything very interesting, they slipped out into the corridor.
“There’s no need for you to act so wary.”
“What do you mean?”
As soon as they came out into the corridor, Sasha spoke, and Isaac first played innocent.
“Mr. Osmund and I resolved things through conversation.”
“…I see.”
Despite pretending not to know just a moment ago, Isaac frowned as if he had understood immediately and gazed off into the distance. Sasha shot a sidelong glance at Isaac’s profile, which looked sulky to anyone’s eyes.
Even without turning his head, he knew she was probably looking at his displeased face and smiling. So Isaac walked even more stubbornly facing only straight ahead. In the meantime, he carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I’ll be discharged within two days.”
Despite his resolve, Isaac immediately turned to look at Sasha.
Just as Isaac expected, Sasha went on with a bright smile.
“As you know, compared to those two, I’m among the lightly injured. I think it would be better to call a doctor to the mansion and be treated there. More than anything, the hospital is truly… boring, with nothing at all to do.”
“That…”
Isaac began as if to argue, but could not respond at once. He understood as well that hospitals were not merely boring, but stifling.
“…It is not a light injury. You had flesh torn from your arm. At least for infection control while the new skin grows…”
“Flesh? What a frightening way to put it.”
“It’s an accurate way to put it, isn’t it? It isn’t just a scratch.”
“So, are you saying you’re against it?”
Isaac saw Sasha make the same familiar expression as before. It was the particular look she wore whenever he tried to interfere more than necessary. Isaac knew he could not break her stubbornness.
“…You’ll be discharged within two days?”
He admitted defeat and changed the subject.
“Yes. There are some things I need to handle as soon as I return. Mr. Turner says that besides the mansion and the foundation, the dowager left other things in my name. It’s fortunate I didn’t injure the arm I use to hold a pen, isn’t it?”
Sasha asked with a smile, then raised her eyebrows as if to say, Hm? Isaac’s gaze had been fixed the entire time on her bandaged arm. Sasha wrapped her other arm around his waist and pressed herself into him.
“I’m all right, Jack.”
“It will leave a scar for the rest of your life. And in such a visible place…”
“Compared to almost dying, this is generous enough. And what about a scar? I don’t really care.”
Originally, there had been other things he needed to say besides this. Before he knew it, the matter of retirement had long since vanished from Isaac’s mind.
He kissed Sasha’s temple as she nestled into his arms and continued down the stairs.
＊＊＊
From morning on, it had been raining in an unlucky, dreary drizzle.
As soon as Jeffrey Grayson was released by the bailiffs, he immediately took a carriage and escaped that dreadful place as if fleeing it.
Of course, people did not simply let him go free. Under the pretext of witness protection, they had assigned two constables to him. For the time being, wherever he went, he would have to drag these damned men in police uniforms around with him. They called it protection, but it was surveillance.
The ducal family’s townhouse, to which he had returned after nearly a month, was empty. With the front gate firmly locked and no one coming out at all, Jeffrey had to shout at the top of his lungs for someone, anyone, to come out while the constables watched. Soon, a servant with a pale complexion came out with an irritated face and opened the gate for him.
The servant showed no sign of politely expressing joy at his master’s return. Jeffrey kicked him and dismissed him. He told him to get out at once and never come back. The servant went off somewhere as if he had been waiting for those very words.
The mansion was bleak. The butler, who would normally have come out to greet him, was nowhere to be seen, nor was the housekeeper’s face. There was no way the duke, while planning his escape, would have taken care of them all. Just as he had abandoned Jeffrey, he must have abandoned them as well, and they had quickly removed themselves from a workplace with no future and left.
All that remained were the riffraff. When a filthy-looking woman who seemed never to have attended anyone in her life approached and offered him an entire teapot, Jeffrey could not endure it and sprang from his seat.
“I can’t stay here another moment. I have to go somewhere else.”
Anywhere would be better than here. After spitting the words out, Jeffrey irritably snatched up a new coat, and the two constables standing behind him exchanged glances.
Soon, one of the constables pointed at the desk piled high with letters and suggested that perhaps he ought to take those with him. Jeffrey, who had been putting on his coat, paused in his preparations and glared at the constable irritably. There was no reply. Jeffrey simply left the room.
The dreadful rain was still falling. When Jeffrey climbed into the carriage, the two constables naturally sat side by side across from him.
“Where will you be going?”
The constable asked as if it were only natural. Jeffrey did not answer.
Because, miserably enough, he could not think of where he ought to go.
Friends? No, the men he had always kept beneath his feet and amused himself with could hardly be called friends; once articles about Jeffrey began appearing one after another, they had long since cut off all contact. If he went to them, it was obvious they would gather among themselves and mock him, recounting it as though it were some grand tale of their own bravery.
His mother’s family? His mother was in the middle of divorce proceedings with his father. Damn it. No one was any help to him.
Damn them all.
Damn it, damn it!
“Good heavens, Mr. Grayson!”
Unable to contain his rage, he tried to bash his head against the wall of the carriage, but the two constables restrained him. Forced down by them, bent over and staring at the floor, Jeffrey breathed out in fury.
After he had spent a long while huffing and puffing, Jeffrey gave a curt answer. “Brookhaven.” That small villa in the middle of nowhere. At least there, it seemed, things might be all right. The servants there had originally served his grandmother; surely they would not have irresponsibly abandoned the place and fled. At least not them.
Only after two full days of travel was Jeffrey able to arrive at that remote villa. As expected, the servants there remained. As always, they opened the door and received Jeffrey with unreadable faces.
Jeffrey entered the bedroom and collapsed into sleep. Nightmares woke him intermittently. The real Sasha, the one who was supposed to be dead, appeared in his dreams and screamed at Jeffrey that his parents had killed their parents.
Fuck. A pathetic ghost, nothing more. Jeffrey barely managed to wake, his body trembling as if in a fit as he screamed.
That worthless thing, who would not even have survived if Jeffrey had not helped him escape, had the nerve to appear before him.
“You should know to be grateful. How dare you fail to recognize that and come to me…….”
He had been shouting into empty air for some time, kicking whatever came within reach to vent his anger, when the door across the room opened.
He thought it might be the constables again, but it was not. It was the caretaker who looked after this small villa.
Whether Jeffrey was causing a disturbance or not, the old man paid it no mind and held out what he had brought. He stood there stiffly, offering it to him as though he would not leave unless Jeffrey accepted it.
Jeffrey snatched it up irritably and tore the envelope open in one long rip. What was inside was…….
“……An eviction order.”
The constable who had followed the commotion into the room picked up the letter Jeffrey had thrown away and read it aloud. The sender was the lawyer said to be the executor of his grandmother’s will. Turner’s law office.
After scanning it once more, the constable went on speaking to Jeffrey.
“It says ownership has passed to her daughter. You will have to prepare to leave.”
“……Get out.”
“Do you have anywhere else to go besides this place? What about returning to the townhouse?”
“I said get out!”
“For now, let us speak again tomorrow morning.”
The constable shook his head and withdrew. Jeffrey lay down on the floor just as he was. Then, with his back turned to them, he panted in fury.
The old man remained in the room until the very end, looking at Jeffrey’s back.
“……I told you to get out. Before I kill you, get out.”
Sensing his presence, Jeffrey muttered ominously. The old man took the remaining letters from inside his coat, silently placed them near Jeffrey where he lay, and left the room.
The envelopes were crisp and stiff. When Jeffrey had given no response, they had heard the news and kindly changed the address before sending new letters.
They were criminal complaints.
Insult, aiding and abetting kidnapping, assault, attempted assault…….
Everything he had done until now had come back to him like a boomerang.
“They’ll all regret it. A fallen house just has to be raised up again. Grandfather did it, so why wouldn’t I be able to? Fuck. Isn’t that right? They’ll all regret it…….”
Without even looking at them, Jeffrey muttered until exhaustion took him, and he fell asleep.