Chapter 66

“…I’ll accept this marriage. Please call Sir Lennon back immediately.”

“That’s a wise decision.”

Her legs felt numb. It was as if she was sinking into the ground. The air in this unpleasant room felt heavy and thick, and Ellen wanted to escape. She gripped her skirt tightly and turned to leave without even bowing.

“Wait.”

At Viscount Valère’s call, Ellen turned around. Viscount Valère brought over a medium-sized box from the shelf and set it on the table. Ellen asked with a blank expression,

“What is this?”

“Open it.”

“…!”

As Ellen opened the box, her body froze as if turned to stone. Her black eyes filled with shock. The box was stuffed with dirty, scorched letters. Each letter was written in the handwriting Ellen had so desperately longed for.

Lennox Lennon.

The recipient was clearly written at the bottom of each letter.

To the Lady Ellen Valère.

“This is…”

“Since you’ve decided to marry, I thought it was about time to return these. I expect you not to change your mind. Well, any noble wouldn’t, of course.”

With trembling fingertips, Ellen stroked the envelope. The rough texture of the envelope was heartbreakingly sad. She picked up one letter. The envelope was bursting, heavy with words. It was clear Lennox had carved out every spare moment to write and write again. A tear rolled down Ellen’s cheek.

“I… hate you. Father.”

For the first time, Ellen openly revealed her raw hatred toward her father.

Smack. With a short, sharp sound, Ellen’s head snapped to the side. She stood silently, her earlier calm and tidy appearance vanished, as Viscount Valère, now agitated, roared,

“Insolent wretch! How dare a daughter say that to her father? Adol! Adol!”

“Yes, Master.”

Adol, who had been waiting anxiously outside, hurried in as Viscount Valère pointed at Ellen and shouted,

“Lock her in her room at once! Don’t let her out until I give permission!”

“Master, but…”

“Take her away now!”

Ellen didn’t react to her father’s shouting. The sting and heat on her cheek, his voice, Adol’s presence, everything in the room felt unreal. The whole world was warped and dizzy.

She was tired. She just wanted to leave this disgusting room. Like a dried-up tree, Ellen reached out, took the box, and hugged it tightly. The box holding Lennox’s heart felt warm. A twisted smile appeared on Ellen’s lips.

“My Lady…”

“Didn’t you hear me say to lock her up?”

Adol looked between Ellen and Viscount Valère, then finally obeyed. Since taking a lover, Viscount Valère’s temper had worsened, and he often lost control like this. Adol thought it would be tough if he didn’t obey, so he supported Ellen, who had grown thin in a short time, and sighed in pity. As Adol led Ellen out, she clung tightly to the box of letters.

* * *

Being locked in her room because of Viscount Valère’s rage was almost a relief. Even Emma’s service was forbidden, so Ellen spent nearly all day alone. In the past, she would have hated being alone at night. Now, she didn’t feel lonely at all. She could read Lennox’s letters as much as she wanted. Late into the night, Ellen read and reread the letters Lennox had sent. A smile appeared on her lips as she read her favorite letter.

-Dear Lady Valère.

Autumn is deepening and winter is approaching. Here, the leaves have all fallen and even the autumn flowers have wilted. It feels as if winter is rushing close. The mansion will soon be busy preparing for winter. I only hope winter arrives late enough that autumn isn’t stolen from you, Lady Ellen Valère.

<omitted>

Ellen smiled genuinely as she read the letter about the weather and well-being. She was grateful to Lennox for trying to tell her beautiful stories from such a bleak and bloody place. But when she turned to the third page, sadness colored her face. She’d read it countless times, but each time the third letter made her heart ache.

I suppose the reason I’ve never received a reply is because winter has come. I think it’s for the best. No reply means you’re busy, and it means you’re less lonely even without me. But if I’m greedy, I’d like to receive a reply just once. I wonder if you’re doing well, if you’re crying from loneliness, what made you happy today, whether you had food you dislike. I’m curious about everything. If I return, I want to hear all about how you’ve been. I’ll write again. Until then, please stay healthy.

“Lennox…”

Ellen murmured his name, hugging the letter close as she felt Lennox’s heart for a long time. After her heart finally settled, she opened the drawer and took out stationery. Tapping her lips with her pen, she began writing her twentieth reply. She couldn’t send any letters while confined, but she planned to send them all at once when she was released.

-To Sir Lennon.

I’m sorry for the late reply. I received your letter in the midst of autumn, but it was only now, as winter approaches, that I finally picked up my pen. The bellflowers and impatiens that bloomed by the pond no longer bloom in the morning. The maples that colored the garden are no longer visible. I regret that I couldn’t enjoy the autumn garden with you. How is it there? Is it still cold? Or is it lonely? I wonder if you’re keeping warm, eating well, and if you’re hurt anywhere. Sir Lennon, I am doing well. Sometimes I feel empty without you, who has always been by my side since childhood. But I’m just holding on until we meet again soon. I hope I can see you before spring comes.

As Ellen wrote with a smile, her expression gradually hardened. She was happy imagining how he’d rejoice at receiving her letter, but remembering the price of writing it, and the cost of Lennox’s return to the mansion, chilled her heart. The more she wrote, the more her resolve hardened. Her face became as cold as the winter wind rattling the window.

* * *

Ellen was released from confinement after a week. Having written thirty replies, she sent them all as soon as she was free, and then had a dreadful tea time with Viscount Valère. Ellen drank her tea with dry, lifeless eyes. Was the tea bitter because it was brewed poorly, or because her mouth was rough, or because of her company?

“Sir Lennon’s return has been delayed.”

Ellen silently looked up at Viscount Valère. Even after wetting her mouth with tea, it still felt dry. She asked in a subdued voice,

“Why? You promised me.”

“It’s His Majesty the King’s order. Suddenly, there was a clash with the Aryan Empire at the eastern border. By the King’s command, he went there at once.”

“If Sir Lennon doesn’t return, I won’t go through with this marriage.”

“What?”

“Bring Sir Lennon back, no matter what. I won’t proceed with this marriage until I receive a letter confirming his safe return without a single injury.”

“Are you trying to make a deal with me?”

“You were the one who proposed the deal: my marriage in exchange for Sir Lennon’s return.”

Ellen set down her tasteless tea and rose from her seat.

“Make sure I can see with my own eyes that Sir Lennon is safe before winter ends.”

“Ellen!”

“I’ll go now, Father.”

Ellen left the room, ignoring Viscount Valère grinding his teeth behind her. Since Ellen agreed to marry Baron Dermann, Viscount Valère no longer raised his hand to her. If the bride’s face was marked before the wedding, nobles would gossip. Viscount Valère was known as a gentleman among nobles. He didn’t want to ruin that image. Ellen knew this well, so now that she had decided to marry Baron Dermann, she could speak her mind without trembling. Having let go of everything, Ellen was no longer afraid of her father.

Suddenly, the mansion felt cold and lonely. She thought she’d gotten used to it, but apparently not. The mansion was unbearably lonely without Lennox.

Early in the morning, Ellen habitually threw open her window as soon as she woke. The dry, lonely winter wind pierced her collar and chilled her skin. Hoping Lennox might have returned overnight, she opened the window, but below it lay only barren earth.

“My Lady. It’s Emma.”

“Come in.”

Once permitted, Emma came in with a basin of water and helped Ellen dress. She ate breakfast as usual and looked over the documents the head maid brought. In the afternoon, a gift arrived from Baron Dermann, who hadn’t sent anything for some time. It was a small box and a letter that fit in the palm of her hand.