3. Lily of the Valley
Even with the cloud-like throng of people before his eyes, Bjern showed no particular signs of tension. Having lived under the attention of the entire kingdom from the moment of his birth, this was as familiar to him as breathing. The accompanying discomfort, to some degree, was no different.
"Step back! Everyone step back!"
The attendants' booming shouts echoed through the chaotic platform. Even within the disorderly chaos, the onlookers gradually stepped back, clearing a path for the prince's procession.
Bjern kept his back and neck straight, striding forward with brisk, refreshing steps. With those whose gazes brushed past him, he exchanged light eye greetings. It was a kind of habit, ingrained in his body through long years of repetition.
That woman, too, was nothing more than one of the crowd with whom he had shared such a meaningless glance.
The reason his gaze lingered a bit longer was due to that small woman's astonishing attire. Clad in a countrified old-fashioned dress adorned with lace and ribbons, the woman looked as if she might have lived alone through the past century. As if the flower-patterned dress alone wasn't enough, she had artificial flowers dangling abundantly from her hat as well.
Having passed by that woman, Bjern once again cast his gaze, this time toward a man whose face was flushed bright red. The man, who had been pointing his finger boldly while criticizing the royal family's dissipation, flinched and stepped backward, but Bjern shared an equally fair smile with him as well. Even in the chaotic scene where condemnation and admiration intersected, he appeared as leisurely as someone out for an afternoon stroll.
Taking in and then letting go of meaningless faces, Bjern leisurely made his way toward the train that had just entered the platform.
* * *
Knowing the address did not prove to be much help. Unfortunately, Erna only realized this fact after getting lost and wandering until she was completely exhausted. Before she knew it, clear darkness was slowly settling over the city where the sun had set.
Erna walked unsteadily toward the fountain in the center of the square on Tara Boulevard. She felt as if she could just flop down right there, but still, she didn't forget to spread out her handkerchief before sitting on the railing.
For today, Erna had chosen to wear her most cherished clothes. It was a muslin dress that her grandmother had made for her as a birthday gift last year. She no longer had any desire to impress her father, but she still needed to maintain proper ladylike manners and dignity. She couldn't let such clothes get dirty.
Calm and elegant. Like a lady, anytime and anywhere.
That was the life motto her grandmother had kept throughout her life, and the legacy she most wanted to pass on to her granddaughter. Though she bore the Hardy surname, Erna Hardy, who was undeniably a lady of the Baden family, had an obligation to uphold those values.
While Erna was carefully adjusting her attire, the gas lamps in the square lit up. The lamplighter, having finished his task, got back on his bicycle and headed for the next district.
She had been momentarily absorbed in the novel sight she was seeing for the first time in her life, but soon Erna stood up again and gathered her belongings. Thinking that she needed to find home before the night grew deeper, the pain in her swollen feet and legs naturally faded away.
Leaving the sound of her clicking footsteps behind, Erna walked along the boulevard dyed in the light of gas lamps. The nighttime streets, where flower petals falling in the wind fluttered like snow, were beautiful enough to make her briefly forget her fearful and lost feelings.
"Wow..."
Erna let out an innocent exclamation like a child and lifted her head. Between the branches laden with blossoms, a white full moon could be seen. It was the same moon she had seen floating in the night sky when she had opened her window after tossing and turning, unable to sleep the night before. The comfort brought by that obvious fact was surprisingly quite large.
Taking a deep breath, Erna began walking with slightly more confident steps. And soon she found that house from the address she had repeated like an earnest prayer. The old-fashioned mansion standing at the western end of Tara Boulevard, the very Hardy family home that had once been her own house.
Before pressing the doorbell, Erna straightened her dress once more. She straightened her posture and also put on as soft and sociable a smile as possible. She didn't know how she would appear to others, but at least by Erna's standards, that was the case.
"It's okay."
Deceiving herself with a lie she already knew was a lie, Erna reached her trembling hand toward the doorbell.
* * *
"I really can't understand you, brother."
A clear, bright woman's voice cut through the cheerful chamber music melody.
Only then did Bjern open the eyes he had been gently keeping closed. As he tilted his head up, Luise, who had approached right before his nose, came into view. Unlike the excited Luise, Bjern's eyes looking at his sister were dry.
"They say Gladys is coming back. Don't you know what this means?"
"Well."
Bjern's gaze, which had been slowly wandering through the hall filled with the dazzling chandelier light, stopped again on Luise's face.
"That it's going to be a quite unpleasant summer, something like that, I suppose."
That indifferent answer he threw out with a grin sounded even more stinging due to the slow tone that revealed his drowsiness.
"Good heavens. How can you speak of Gladys that way? That very Gladys whom you hurt and discarded!"
Luise was angry as if she herself had been insulted. Even with such a sister beside him, Bjern calmly held his water glass. The water droplets that had formed on the glass surface ran down his long, smooth fingers.
The charity party was successful.
When the attendance of the queen, who was respected and loved throughout the kingdom, was announced, the noblewomen of society flocked to Schwerin one after another. The director of the royal hospital, moved by the magnitude of charity the ladies had proven through their donations, showed no sign of letting the corners of his mouth drop.
Excellent food and music, famous figures of society who decorated the guest list splendidly. This was a party with enough class to make the queen's attendance worthwhile. The sacrifice of the grand duke, who had given up sleep to escort Her Majesty the Queen, could also be said to have not been in vain. It was, in a way, a not-so-bad spring weekend. If one excluded only Princess Luise, who was buzzing around like an angry bee.
"Brother, please, let's make things right even now. Okay?"
Luise began to urge him in a tone like coaxing even a young child. Luise, who was also Gladys's friend, had supported Bjern's marriage more passionately than anyone else. After the noisy divorce, however, she transformed into the fiercest critic of all.
"Of course it's not the kind of mistake that can be forgiven, but still, if Gladys were to forgive, I would want the two of us to..."
"Duchess Heine."
Bjern, having set down his water glass, cut off his sister's words. Unlike his smiling lips, his eyes and tone were calm enough to feel chilling.
"The duke seems to be looking for his wife. Perhaps it's time for you to return to your husband's side."
Bjern gestured with his eyes toward the far side of the hall, where Duke Heine was hovering among the group of noblewomen. Luise, whose lips had moved a few times without speaking, substituted her unspoken words with a deep sigh.
As Luise left reluctantly, Bjern also rose from his seat. The orchestra, having taken a brief rest, now began to play a waltz.
Bjern leisurely passed through the ladies who were casting glances where wariness and expectation coexisted. The terrace connected to the garden was crowded with men who had come out to smoke cigars.
"Bjern! Over here!"
Having spotted a familiar face beckoning him, Bjern turned his steps in that direction. The group, which would normally be getting heated over trivial debates, was all quiet today. Some of them were tilting their glasses with gloomy faces as if they might burst into tears at any moment.
"They say the investment failed."
Peter said, holding out a glass filled with amber brandy. Bjern leaned slightly against the railing as he accepted the glass.
"Investment?"
"They invested in foreign bonds, but it turned out to be a fraud or something."
Peter clicked his tongue as he delivered the tragic news. Bjern only lightly furrowed his brows and showed no particular reaction. It seemed there were more fools swept up in that absurd investment craze that had been making noise in other social clubs for a while.
"Thank you, Your Highness. Thanks to you, I survived."
Peter, who had moved closer to Bjern's side, whispered with his voice lowered as much as possible.
Having obtained investment information that piqued his interest, he went straight to Schwerin Palace. It was an established theory in society that Prince Bjern was certainly gifted by God, at least in the two areas of women and money.
That day, having heard Peter's excited explanation, Bjern summed up the situation with a concise answer.
You dumb bastard.
That indifferent single line he threw in a monotone voice was so insulting that Peter Bergen almost committed the grave crime of assaulting a royal. If it had been an opponent he might have been able to beat, he certainly would have.
But so what.
He had protected his fortune in exchange for being treated like a fool for a moment, so he could endure that much. Besides, hadn't he made quite a large profit by investing in a steel company with the information he had pestered Bjern for? Thinking only of that, Peter felt like he could even love that annoying prince.
If he, who had barely gotten a taste at the tail end, made that much profit, just how much did Bjern earn? Anyway, he was definitely a guy whose talent for making money was nearly miraculous. It was one of the important reasons he had to endure, no matter how dirty and petty, to maintain this friendship.
"They have to catch them by any means, Bjern! It's a serious crime with more than one or two victims. Right?"
An heir to an earl family who made eye contact with Bjern began reciting the names of those who had fallen victim to the fraud, sounding as if he were about to cry. Most were sons of noble families who were members of the social club, but some somewhat unfamiliar names were mixed in as well.
"Viscount Hardy lost almost his entire fortune. He's probably on the verge of shooting himself right now?"
Hardy. The tedious complaints finally came to an end with the name that seemed to belong to perhaps the most serious fool.
Bjern, having lit his cigar, turned toward the garden beyond the railing. Beyond the hazily dispersing smoke, various spring flowers in full bloom spread out before him.
Bjern's gaze, which had been leisurely appreciating that scenery, suddenly stopped on a flower bed full of small white flowers.
Lily of the valley.
Bjern's eyes narrowed as he recalled the name of that flower.
The bouquet Gladys had held at the wedding. Thanks to that, the lily of the valley, which earned the nickname "Crown Princess's flower," was so loved that it caused a shortage for a while. Of course, that popularity faded in less than a year.
Come to think of it, that flower had also been decorating the hat of that countrified woman he saw at the station. That very lily of the valley, whose trend had long, long passed.
Bjern hummed the melody of the waltz drifting from the hall and once again exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke.
No wonder.
His gaze, having left the lily of the valley bed without regret, was now directed toward the white moon hanging in the distant night sky.
Even at a glance, it was bad luck.