Episode 48
So, what happened after that was this.
“……Would you accompany me, Miss Grayson?”
Isaac belatedly asked Sasha to be his partner.
Good heavens. What would he ever have done without me? With a face that was appalled in more ways than one, Mathilda watched the scene from a good distance away.
Yes. She watched.
Sasha looked back and forth between Mathilda and Isaac, her expression filled with all sorts of complicated feelings, and soon let out a hollow laugh.
Then, before long, she nodded and said she understood.
“They light a great bonfire in the village square, and music and dancing go on until late into the night. Of course, the entire regiment takes part. It’s truly a sight to see all those fine officers in dress uniform dancing with the village girls in the square.”
After accepting that rather haphazard partner proposal, on the way down to the village, Mathilda spoke without pause to Sasha about the festival.
“Last year, Captain Donnell danced with the colonel’s daughter, and it became quite the talk of the town. They made such an elegant pair. But to my eye, it seemed he was only dancing with her out of courtesy. No matter how hard the local young ladies tried, he never showed any special interest in any of them.”
I see. When Sasha answered politely, Mathilda grew even more excited and continued.
“It would be wonderful if you could stay until the festival, Miss Grayson.”
“I don’t think I’ll have any reason to leave midway. That is why I came the day before, just as Mrs. Wells suggested.”
Making a great fuss, Mathilda lightly patted Sasha’s shoulder in a friendly way.
“When you put it like that, it sounds as though I instigated it! As if I were trying to bring the two of you together.”
‘You were.’
Instead of replying that way, Sasha smiled faintly.
Before they knew it, the two had reached the entrance to the village.
When they entered the residence, the grandfather clock in the corner chimed softly, marking the passage of time.
Outside, the daily life of the army continued. The rhythmic sound of military boots rang against the paved road, and the distant call of a bugle could be heard.
Mathilda leaned back in her chair and, having finished speaking for the moment, caught her breath.
As the late-afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the drawing room, Mathilda glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece. Her eyes widened slightly, and she set down her teacup gently.
“Oh my, is it that time already? Forgive me, Miss Grayson. I have some household matters to attend to.”
She rose gracefully and smoothed her floral dress.
“Please make yourself comfortable. I paid special attention to dinner tonight. My husband is expected to return late, so it will just be the two of us.”
With a knowing smile, Mathilda lightly patted Sasha’s hand and left, leaving only the faint lingering scent of lavender behind her.
Once she had gone and the door closed, Sasha finally let out the breath she had been holding.
Someday, she would have to tell Mathilda that she had come to marry Isaac.
How on earth would she react then?
For some reason, Sasha could not quite bring herself to imagine it.
She soon went into the guest room where she had unpacked her things earlier in the day and lay down on the bed. Through the nearby window, the darkening scenery of Lance Field came into view.
As twilight settled over Lance Field, the modest little town transformed into a tapestry of shadows and muted colors.
The last rays of the sun dyed the sky deep violet and blazing orange, casting long shadows over the regimental grounds. The distant ringing of the dining hall bell announced the end of the day’s work, and as the soldiers returned to their quarters, stillness descended over the barracks.
From the guest room window of Major Wells’s residence, Sasha watched the village enter its nightly routine.
In the distance, the silhouettes of windmills stood sharply against the darkening sky, their blades now still in the quiet evening air.
The sounds of day faded away, replaced by the gentle chirping of crickets and the occasional call of an owl.
The breeze was pleasantly cool.
The cool wind carried the scent of freshly cut hay and blooming night jasmine. It was a peace she had not felt in some time.
A crescent moon cast a soft silver glow over the landscape, illuminating the gentle fields stretching beyond the edge of the village.
Sasha slowly turned away from the window.
She went over to her trunk. The lock clicked softly as she opened it to take out her nightclothes.
As she changed, the chilly night air raised goosebumps on her skin.
After changing into her soft cotton nightclothes, Sasha carefully folded the dress she had worn that day.
Settling into the unfamiliar bed, Sasha pulled the blanket up to her chin.
The sheets were crisp and cool, faintly imbued with the scent of lavender. As she lay there staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifted to the approaching festival.
She soon fell into a deep sleep.
＊＊＊
The first light of dawn seeped through the lace curtains of Major Wells’s residence.
The gleaming silverware on the carefully set table sparkled in the early morning sunlight.
Outside, the distant sound of a bugle announced the beginning of another day in Lance Field.
Having risen early, Sasha was drawn by the warm light spilling from the dining room. As she drew closer, low voices reached her ears, occasionally mingled with soft laughter.
She stopped at the threshold without anyone in the room noticing her.
Major Wells sat at the head of the table, his expression far gentler than usual.
Across from him, Mathilda moved busily as she arranged freshly cut flowers in a crystal vase.
The major’s gaze followed his wife’s movements with unconcealed affection.
“Tilda.”
Major Wells spoke in a rough yet tender voice.
“The table looks splendid.”
He reached out and took Mathilda’s hand as she passed, pressing a gentle kiss to it.
Mathilda’s cheeks flushed with pleasure, and she lightly rested her other hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“Oh, you,”
Mathilda replied, mischief in her eyes.
“If only your men could see this side of their fearsome commander.”
She bent down, planted a brief kiss on the crown of his head, and then returned to her work.
“Speaking of which, will you be able to come home this evening? I was thinking of trying that new recipe Mrs. Fairfax shared at the last ladies’ association meeting.”
The major’s brows drew together slightly.
“I can’t promise anything, my love. There is the festival, and many things I must supervise.”
His expression softened as he looked at the flowers Mathilda was arranging.
“But I’ll do my best to return at a reasonable hour. Your cooking is far better than anything served in the dining hall.”
As the couple exchanged affectionate banter, Sasha decided to wait instead of immediately opening the door and entering, allowing them a little more time together.
The easy intimacy between Major Wells and Mathilda was clearly a far cry from what existed between herself and Isaac.
The peaceful domestic scene was interrupted by a sudden, sharp knock at the front door.
As the sound echoed through the house, the major and Mathilda started slightly.
A moment later, the housekeeper cast Sasha an apologetic glance as she hurried past to answer the door.
Sasha could hear the murmur of low voices, followed by the rustle of paper—a message had been delivered.
Major Wells rose from his seat, his posture straightening as though invisible epaulets had settled upon his shoulders.
“Duty calls.”
He spoke in a more formal tone. Then he turned toward Mathilda, who watched him with eyes mingling understanding and resignation.
“I’ll try not to be too late, Tilda.”
Mathilda nodded and straightened his already impeccable collar.
“Go on, then.”
Her tone was light, but a trace of regret lingered in her eyes.
As the major left the room with military precision in his steps, Mathilda’s gaze turned to Sasha.
“Ah, good morning, Miss Grayson! I hope we didn’t wake you. Come in and sit down for breakfast. I imagine you’ll have a busy day as well.”