Episode 20
Only yesterday she had acted as though she would never give up, but the next day, the woman did not come looking for Isaac. And the day after that, she did not come looking for him either.
She had shown up every day like clockwork, so her absence felt all the stranger. The woman who had pushed her way into his space the moment he accepted her visits, rattling on about things he had never asked, desperately trying to win his favor for all to see—had abruptly cut off all contact.
Whenever Isaac refused her visits, the woman would get caught up in other officers' gossip as she had during previous visits, mingling with them. But this time, she did not do that either. She simply did not set foot in this place.
Even though it had only been two days since she stopped coming, Isaac felt a peculiar sense of unease. Could she be plotting something? After their last conversation, he had realized she had quite a formidable side; perhaps she really was up to something...
"Miss Grayson? Ah, she's been busy these past two days. She went to a ball in Hampshire with my wife."
The Major said this with a calm expression, sipping his coffee. Isaac stared intently at the Major's face as he crunched on a biscuit.
"The Hampshire siblings are quite enthusiastic about Miss Grayson. To be precise, it's the brother. The sister seems to be helping things along as well. Anyway, they say it was the most crowded ball held around here in recent years."
"...Ah, I see."
While he had been puzzling over it alone for two days, the woman had gone to a ball hosted by local dignitaries with the Major's wife to socialize. So it was hardly a surprising turn of events. The people here looked at her with admiring eyes, eager to entangle themselves with her somehow, and she was already accustomed to such social gatherings.
...So.
"Will you have a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you. I'll take my leave."
Isaac bowed politely and turned to leave.
"Pincher, you haven't forgotten that Walter's wedding is in two days, have you?"
The Major asked his retreating figure, as if to confirm. Without a word, Isaac turned his head, nodded, and opened the door to leave.
＊＊＊
Sergeant Walter's wedding was held at the village church on Saturday afternoon. The bride was a maiden from Lancefield. Her name was Allison, or something along those lines.
Since the ceremony was being held so close by, Isaac could hardly decline to attend, so he had no choice but to accompany the Major and his wife. The village square, and even the shops, were completely deserted. Everyone had flocked to the church where the wedding was taking place.
Isaac looked askance at the minister, who was reciting prayers with a pallid face as though attending a funeral rather than a wedding. They had arrived a little late. Thus, they pushed through the bustling crowd and sat in a row in the few remaining pews they had managed to find.
The moment Isaac sat down, he heard a voice say, "Hello." He turned his head toward the sound.
Sasha Grayson was looking at him.
"...Ah, hello."
Isaac replied without looking into her eyes. As if afraid their gazes might meet, he turned his head straight forward. The minister was still reciting words to bless the couple's future with a gloomy face, doing his best in his own way.
"There really are a lot of people."
"..."
Sasha Grayson whispered. Without looking at her, Isaac nodded as if to say, "Indeed."
"Perhaps because it's a soldier's wedding, it feels somehow more disciplined."
"...Weddings in the countryside are all like this. It's simply modest. Is this your first time at a wedding?"
Isaac asked, spitting out disagreeable words without thinking. He regretted it the moment they left his mouth. But there was no taking back words already spoken.
Despite how obviously embarrassing those words were, the woman blinked her green eyes and nodded.
"Yes. It's my first time."
She answered cautiously, still keeping her voice low. She was sitting to Isaac's left, and Isaac unconsciously raised his hand to scratch his left ear. For some reason, it itched unbearably.
"I've attended more funerals. My grandmother's friends passed away at a rate of nearly two each year."
The woman spoke calmly. It was not a face that looked like she was joking. At this gloomy tale, which suited the bright and moderately sacred church wedding far too little, Isaac whipped his head toward her. And he looked at her green eyes, which were watching the altar without looking at him, and at her long eyelashes that fluttered every time she blinked.
Isaac recalled, as if in passing, what he had heard about her from his cousin Rachel. What was it again. Hadn't she said that before her grandmother died, the girl had lived almost like a prisoner.
Because of that, Rachel had inwardly looked down on her—on Sasha Grayson. She acted as if she were graciously offering to be her friend.
No matter how cherished and delicately she had been raised, surely she must be just as ignorant. He thought he had vaguely assumed as much at the time.
But now that he was seeing her in person like this...
"Have you been to many weddings, Captain?"
"...Not really. There are hardly any people who invite me in the first place."
When she turned her head again to look at him, Isaac faced forward as if he had never turned. The back of his neck burned. Now that he was conscious of it, he realized he was far too close to this woman. They were close enough to hear each other's breathing.
"Really? You spoke as if you'd attended many."
"...I've attended more than you, that's all. ...I went more often when I was young. Whenever relatives married, I was called upon at every opportunity, and I even served as a page boy..."
Isaac murmured, thinking to himself.
Why am I telling her all of this?
"But gradually, people grew wary of me..., and there were even absurd rumors attached to me."
"Rumors? What rumors?"
Sasha was now completely fixated on him, and Isaac couldn't bear it. In his peripheral vision, he could clearly see her green eyes staring at him.
"...That misfortune follows wherever I go..."
"...What?"
When Isaac spoke in a careful murmur, Sasha echoed him in disbelief.
Her voice was quite loud. The white-haired old man sitting in front turned around to look. Major Wells, seated to Isaac's right, coughed pointedly to give them a hint.
Sasha rolled her eyes as if momentarily embarrassed. Then she leaned toward him to communicate in an even quieter voice.
"That's absurd. Who on earth would believe such rumors?"
"...More than you'd expect. I've even been thrown out of those parties of yours."
"They simply needed an excuse to throw you out. Goodness. To think they'd create such rumors and gossip because they lacked justification."
He felt strange.
Clearly, that woman seemed to be defending him, yet he strangely did not feel good about it.
"...Yes."
Isaac brooded over the unpleasant feeling and rubbed the back of his neck for no reason.
"Did you enjoy the party?"
He simply wanted to change the subject. So he brought up what he had heard from Major Wells.
The woman's eyes widened. "The party?" Then she smiled as if she had caught on.
"You mean Hampshire's party. Yes. I enjoyed it. The people here are all kind."
"...I heard Hampshire is taken with you."
"Yes. That's right. Miss Hampshire is truly kind. She even taught me a few words of the local dialect."
Sasha rolled her eyes as if trying to recall what she had learned, then imitated the western regional dialect quite convincingly.
Listening to her mimic the rustic dialect in a clear voice, Isaac unconsciously tugged up the corner of his mouth. And the moment he realized it, he roughly wiped the end of his lips with his calloused thumb, as if he had drooled.
"...What about her brother?"
Then Isaac asked, and at that moment, applause broke out around them.
The bride was making her entrance.
Sasha looked at the bride smiling happily in her white dress and clapped along, then tilted her head toward him and asked.
"What? I didn't catch that."
Isaac was no longer looking at her. Muttering inwardly, "Have I truly gone mad?" he replied stiffly.
"It's nothing."