3. Love Letter (11)
I jumped up and ran to my room. Then I took out the letter I had placed in the desk drawer. Just as I thought, the day they asked to meet was today.
I had been so preoccupied that I forgot. I looked down at the letter with its desperate contents and felt troubled. What should I do about this? Would the other person be waiting? Should I go out right now? But because of what happened at the Baron's estate, I hesitated about meeting unlike before. I did see a newspaper article saying the culprit of the kidnapping incident targeting ransom that Ethan mentioned had been caught, but that didn't mean I could just consider it safe.
Come to think of it, Vincent had mentioned the love letter on the way back from the chapel.
'Don't go meet the owner of that letter.'
Perhaps because I was tangled up in the kidnapping incident, I agreed with his words. If it were a real love letter, I'm sorry to say, but since they sent it on their own whim anyway, I had no reason I absolutely had to go out. It would be somewhat relieving if I could just send a letter of rejection instead. Thinking such thoughts, I returned to the mansion and had forgotten about it until now.
I took the letter and returned to Ethan's study. I flopped back down on the sofa where I had been sitting just a moment ago.
"I forgot."
Ethan glanced at me and continued reading documents as if it didn't matter. I sank deeper into the sofa.
"Are you going out?"
"Hmm, I'm not going to go out."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Because it's dangerous."
I casually placed the letter I was holding on the table and brought the teacup to my lips. In that brief time, the tea had gone cold and tasteless. I took a few sips before slouching back on the sofa. I had decided not to go out, but somehow a lingering discomfort remained in a corner of my heart.
"If you went out, I was going to assign a few more guards."
"...Should I go?"
I leaned my face against the backrest and asked Ethan. Ethan looked back at me and shrugged.
"If you want to meet them, you can go out."
"Hmmm."
Unexpectedly, Ethan seemed indifferent to either option. Still, would it be more polite to go out? Hesitation sprouted in my heart. Should I go or not? After agonizing between the two choices, I soon made a decision.
"No, I won't go."
Once I made my decision, my mind felt refreshed. I picked up the cookie I had been eating earlier. The sweetness I felt with each crunch seemed to ease the lingering discomfort still remaining in my heart.
Ethan let out a short hum after hearing my answer.
"Here."
Ethan suddenly held something out. It was a letter. I looked up at him in puzzlement. What's this?
"This just came for you."
I stared blankly at the letter before reaching out to take it. I examined it casually, wondering if Vincent had sent it. But only my name was written on the envelope. Because of that, I realized who had sent it. I immediately sat up straight.
"Uh..."
For some reason, I hesitated to open the letter. While I was hesitating, Ethan stood up and set down the documents he had been reading. After looking over documents since morning, perhaps his urgent work was finished—he let out a sigh, stretched once, and headed for the door.
I urgently called out to stop Ethan.
"Uh, where are you going?"
"To my room for a bit. I'll be right back."
Ethan gave a small smile and went outside. I watched in bewilderment as the door closed before I could stop him. Only after being left alone in his study did I realize Ethan had stepped away to give me privacy.
I needlessly fiddled with the envelope I was holding. Then I carefully tore open the envelope and took out the letter inside. At that moment, something dropped from inside the envelope with a light tap.
What was that?
I bent down and picked up what had fallen. It was a flat, pressed white flower. The flower with its petals fully intact had a rough texture but showed its beautiful form as it was. I stared blankly at it before unfolding the letter I held in my hand. But then again, something white came fluttering down.
It was flowers.
Stiffly dried flower clusters showered down upon me. I looked down at the blossoms that had hit my shoulder and scattered onto my lap, then began reading the familiar handwriting inside.
[Looking back, it seems my feelings have burdened you. I realize my thought was short-sighted, and I'm sending this letter late as it is. While thinking of the day I would meet you, I couldn't sleep every night with joy and excitement, but on the other hand, I'm filled with apologies for the displeasure you must have felt at having to meet someone whose face you don't even know.
So with this letter as the last, I intend to send no more letters. Please understand with a generous heart the discomfort I've caused by sending such letters.
I still vividly remember the day I first met you as if it were yesterday. Because I'm a lacking person, the things I tried hard at didn't bear good results and I lost courage, but I was glad when you seemed to tell me that I hadn't done wrong. You made me feel that I wasn't alone. Wanting to become closer to someone like you, I think I gave in to excessive desire.
By chance at some party venue, I heard people calling you this. For the first and last time, please forgive the rudeness of calling you this way.
Paula. Thank you.]
It was a far shorter and more concise letter than usual. But upon reading the last words, I felt as if my breath had stopped. The dried flowers adorning my lap etched themselves densely into my heart as well.
After leaving the Belunita family, I had never visited even once. There might still be people who remembered my face, and I also lacked the courage. So visiting the Belunita family like this, and on top of that impulsively, could be said to be the first time since becoming Florence Christopher.
I walked hastily down the corridor. My anxious heart quickened my pace. The middle-aged man walking ahead looked back at me like that. I quickly pulled down my wide-brimmed hat to hide my face and averted my gaze. Then when I slightly raised my head, the man was smiling amicably.
The man was the new butler who had come to the Belunita family. He was the one brought in after driving out the butler who had threatened me. He was on the younger side compared to the previous butler, and had a very gentle appearance. While the previous butler had sophistication born from long experience but rigid thinking, I had heard from Vincent that he had quite open-minded thinking and wasn't bad to receive help from. I knew that Vincent really liked the new butler. This was my first time actually meeting him.
Even though I visited suddenly, the butler treated me very politely. When I told him I was 'Florence Christopher,' he seemed to recognize who I was immediately and greeted me familiarly.
I could feel the servants' curiosity toward the suddenly visiting guest. I kept touching the brim of my hat, trying to hide my face. No matter how much I tried to pretend otherwise, I couldn't help being nervous.
"Miss, are you alright?"
The maid who had come with me to the Belunita mansion asked softly, perhaps noticing something was off about my condition. I smiled awkwardly and nodded.
The butler guided me to the reception room. I sat on the sofa and fidgeted restlessly. The butler stepped away for a moment, and instead a maid came in and prepared tea and refreshments. The maid poured hot tea into the teacup, but I didn't drink it and only watched the door.
Just as a fleeting moment felt as long as an eon, suddenly a commotion was heard. Soon the reception room door burst open. At the same time, I rose to my feet. The hat I was wearing fell to the floor, but unconcerned, I hurried off the sofa with the thought that I needed to see Vincent quickly. Then my eyes widened.
Vincent did come, but his state was a bit strange. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were untidy as if he had just changed into them. Several top buttons of his shirt were left undone, and the sweater he had thrown over it was not adjusted properly, with one side slipping down his wrist. Perhaps unaware of his own appearance, Vincent, who had hurriedly entered the reception room, paused when he saw me. It was the face of someone who had witnessed an unexpected scene.
I was also surprised and scanned him up and down. Why does he look like that? Just like someone who just woke up. I looked out the window. The sun was blazing in the clear sky.
"Did you come out from sleeping?"
"Ah, I came in this morning."
Only then did Vincent realize his state and ran his hand through his disheveled hair. The butler quietly approached him and adjusted his outer garment. He must have been in a drowsy state from sleeping, and hearing that I had come, he must have found it unbelievable. That's why he had rushed over looking like that.
But I was just as urgent. I quickly approached him and grabbed both his arms. Then I said to Vincent the words that had been circling in my head the entire way here.
"I want to go meet them!"
"What?"
"I said I'll go meet them. I want to meet them properly. I want to do that."
"What are you talking about all of a sudden."
Vincent, unable to understand my words, narrowed his eyes in bewilderment. Then, perhaps thinking this wasn't something to discuss standing, he guided me to sit on the sofa. After sitting on the opposite sofa himself, he collected himself and asked calmly.
"Explain slowly what you mean by going to meet them."
"The letter."
I took out the letter I had kept in my bag. Vincent's gaze fell on the letter in my hand.
"You told me not to go meet them, but I've changed my mind. I want to meet them. But since you said you didn't want me going out alone, how about coming with me?"
It might be absurd to come uninvited and make such a demand, but this was the best I could think of. Even if I went out alone, I would go with guards, but Vincent had been displeased even with that. Then wouldn't it be better for Vincent to just come with me?
Vincent, who had briefly worn a surprised expression at my suggestion, asked back.
"Why?"
If he's asking why... I hesitated with my words. Then, as I subtly glanced at the butler, Vincent, noticing my intention, looked at the butler and maid standing behind.
"Both of you, leave."
"Yes."
The butler and maid bowed politely and left the reception room. I also turned my head and spoke to the maid standing behind the sofa.
"Could you step away for a moment?"
"Huh? Me too?"
"Yeah. I'll call you when I'm done."
The maid seemed flustered by my words, but soon nodded and went outside.
Only Vincent and I remained in the reception room. As silence settled, I gripped the letter tightly. Vincent calmly waited for my explanation.
"A very long time ago, when I lived in this mansion. Back then, I used to write and send reply letters to the letters that came for you."
My lips were drying. Somehow my throat felt blocked. I softly exhaled and continued speaking.
"Without knowing their face or status, all I knew about the other person was that their handwriting on the paper was neat. The letters were just a few short lines, and the content was nothing special, but still I liked feeling like I was having a conversation with someone. So now, I have this thought. If back then the letter's sender had asked to meet, should I have not gone out because they were an unknown person like now?"
"..."
"But if that had happened, I would have never known the person who accepted me as I was."
I had no intention of finding out who the letter's sender was. It wasn't even addressed to me in the first place. If I could go back to that day long ago, I wouldn't have wondered who the letter's sender was, and even if they had asked to meet, I would have refused. I wouldn't have agonized like this. And I would have lived forever without knowing who the letter's sender was.
There would have been no opportunity to forge a precious connection in my life.
Perhaps it was because it was a letter. Maybe because they sent it with something like dried flowers inside. Or perhaps because the content, no different from usual, came with a slightly different meaning. It might have been because, saying it was the last time, they called me 'Paula.'
If not for that, I would have quickly forgotten about such a playful love letter I once received, just as Vincent said. And whenever it occasionally came to mind, I might have mulled over what a ridiculous thing it was. Now I understand the reason I cared about a love letter from someone I didn't even know, the reason I was anxious about not being able to answer that heart.
Through that letter, I had recalled Lucas.
So much time has flowed by... I still couldn't easily speak of my memories with Lucas. Simply leaving him as a part of my memories was too difficult a thing. I could vividly recall Lucas's appearance. His smiling face, his bewildered face, his sorrowful or pained face, and even his final moments.
Lucas still remained as a special and painful person in my heart. I couldn't leave him as a fading memory.
"I guess I'm weak to letters."
I looked at Vincent, smiling as if it didn't matter. He said nothing.