Chapter 3.8

The unexpected words left Natalie momentarily stunned. She waited for Mr. Wharton to quickly laugh and say, ‘I’m joking.’

But Mr. Wharton only looked at her quietly. In his eyes, the faint light from somewhere far away flickered. Natalie’s gaze lingered on that light as if she were enchanted, like a girl drawn to the spindle that would curse her into an endless dream.

Whether it was a spindle’s needle or a beautiful man’s eyes, dangerous and captivating things were all the same. Before she could lose herself entirely, she quickly averted her gaze.

“But…”

You like Miss Windsor.  

She meant to say that, but Mr. Wharton spoke first.

“I know you like Leonard. You don’t have to like me. Leonard will regret it, Natalie, just as you wish.”

His calm voice flowed into her ears.

“He’ll realize he lost someone who would have truly loved him. People always realize things only after they’ve lost them. Leonard will come to love you…”

“……”  

“That’s when we break up.”

Mr. Wharton put a full stop on his proposal. Natalie needed time to understand his suggestion.  

Was he saying he would become my lover to set me up with Mr. Salinger? Could one become someone’s lover without liking them? Was it because Mr. Wharton was kind to everyone? Was he helping because we were friends?  

Natalie’s mind, filled with a sea of question marks, turned blank again.  

If I become Mr. Wharton’s lover, will Miss Windsor come to love him too, as he wishes?  

When her endless train of thought reached that point, Mr. Wharton’s soft, melodious voice broke through the tangled confusion.

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow. Decisions made while drunk are usually regretted the next morning.”

Mr. Wharton smiled the smile of a “kind Mr. Wharton.” He leaned his forehead lightly against Natalie’s, who had been leaning close to him. Then, he helped her to her feet.  

Natalie, being led to stand by Mr. Wharton, replied.

“I’ll do it.”

As she said it, she felt certain. Natalie looked at Mr. Wharton with determined eyes.

“I’ll be your lover, Mr. Wharton.”

Mr. Wharton simply gazed at her. Natalie wondered if he had changed his mind while she hesitated to answer. She grabbed the hem of his coat.

“…Is it too late? Can I no longer be your lover?”

Mr. Wharton gave a gentle smile.

“No. Think about it more. Deciding tomorrow morning won’t be too late. I won’t believe the words of someone drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

Mr. Wharton narrowed his eyes playfully as he looked at her.

“You’ve gotten better at lying.”

He took Natalie’s hand, which was clutching his coat, and gently held it. Leading her toward the door, he said:

“Let’s go home now. Think it over while lying in bed.”

Natalie, her hand held by Mr. Wharton, had no choice but to follow him. As they headed for the door, an unresolved question suddenly popped into her mind.

“Um, can I ask you something?”  

“You can ask two things.”  

“I’ll just ask one.”

A low chuckle followed. Even the voice that said, “Alright,” was tinged with laughter.

“The ghost story… it’s a lie, right?”  

“No.”

The answer came without hesitation. Natalie, convinced it was a lie, still glanced nervously over her shoulder. Just as she thought she might see a terrifying figure conjured by her imagination in the darkness, she quickly turned her head back. She stood close behind Mr. Wharton.

Then, Mr. Wharton adjusted his grip on her hand. His fingers slid gently between hers, interlocking them firmly. Natalie, instead of saying, “You don’t need to hold my hand,” held his hand back. She never looked behind her, feeling as though a cold wind was blowing from the darkness.

***

It was the time when the moon hung in the night sky. The quiet streets were serene. Normally, Natalie would never have been outside at such an hour.  

Everything she experienced that day felt unfamiliar and wondrous. Watching a play, meeting Mr. Wharton’s friends, and walking through the night streets—all of it.  

Familiar walls and buildings came into view. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the Maron family’s mansion. Among the darkened windows, only one was lit. Mr. Wharton looked up at the illuminated window.  

“Someone must be waiting for you, Miss Maron.”  

“Father must still be awake.”  

The lit room belonged to her father. Mr. Wharton stopped walking.  

“Is Lord Maron strict?”  

“A little.”  

Natalie continued walking toward the door. As she climbed the front steps, the sound of her shoes hitting the ground echoed.  

“Natalie.”  

Mr. Wharton called out, stopping her. When Natalie turned back, Mr. Wharton approached and knelt at her feet. Natalie looked down at him, bewildered.  

“…What are you doing?”  

Instead of answering, Mr. Wharton wrapped his hands around her ankle. Natalie lost her balance as her foot was lifted. She quickly grabbed onto Mr. Wharton’s shoulder.  

“Hold on like that.”  

With those words, Mr. Wharton began removing her shoes. His long, straight fingers wrapped around her ankle. Natalie found the sensation of his touch unfamiliar and ticklish. Her toes instinctively curled.  

Meanwhile, his fingers slipped into the gap at the back of her shoe. In an instant, one shoe was removed. As his hand released her ankle, his fingers brushed lightly over the thin stocking.  

Startled by the unfamiliar sensation, Natalie jerked her foot back. But Mr. Wharton caught her ankle again and pulled it forward.  

With a calm expression, he removed the other shoe and handed them to Natalie.  

“Be careful on the stairs. Walk slowly so you don’t make any noise.”  

Mr. Wharton offered advice as if sneaking in late at night was second nature to him.  

Holding her shoes in hand, Natalie climbed the rest of the steps. At the door, she turned back to look at Mr. Wharton. He was still standing in the same spot.  

When their eyes met, Mr. Wharton gave her a smile.  

“Goodnight, Natalie.”  

Hearing his farewell, Natalie entered the house. As she climbed the stairs, she followed Mr. Wharton’s advice, stepping carefully and silently while clutching her shoes tightly.  

Once she safely reached her room, Natalie placed her shoes by the door and headed straight to the window. She leaned against it, peering outside. She thought Mr. Wharton might still be near the door, but she couldn’t see him clearly.  

She opened the window wide, resting her hands on the frame and leaning out. Finally, she spotted him. The handsome gentleman with golden hair stood at the door, like a dream that hadn’t yet faded in the middle of the night.  

“Mr. Wharton!”  

When Natalie called out to him, Mr. Wharton looked up at the window. Natalie waved with a bright smile.  

The problem was that she let go of the window frame she had been holding. Losing her balance, Natalie’s body leaned out of the window. Mr. Wharton’s eyes widened in shock as he watched.  

Edgar felt as though his heart had plummeted the moment Natalie’s body tilted out of the window. Keeping his eyes on the window, he hurriedly ran to stand below it.  

However, Natalie, with surprising reflexes, managed to grab the window frame. Instead of falling, she leaned against it with a startled expression. Seeing Edgar, who had rushed to her side, she smiled innocently.  

Edgar’s heart was still pounding, and he couldn’t believe what had just happened. As relief washed over him, he let out a small laugh.  

The tipsy young lady leaned out of the window again, reaching her hand downward. Edgar had no idea what she was trying to grab, but it made him uneasy, as if she might fall at any moment.  

Edgar reached out his hand to Natalie.  

“Go back inside, Natalie.”  

But Natalie stretched her hand even further downward. Judging by the look in her eyes, which were fixed on his hand as though it were her target, she might actually jump.  

Before she could leap, Edgar quickly pulled his hand back and hid it behind his back.  

“You can hold my hand tomorrow. For now, go to sleep.”  

Finally, Natalie withdrew her gaze. Watching her retreat from the window as if she were about to go to bed, Edgar let out a sigh of relief.  

But just as he turned to leave, her voice called out again, “Mr. Wharton!” Edgar looked back up at the window.  

His concern that something might have gone wrong proved unfounded when Natalie smiled brightly.  

“Goodnight.”  

With a brief farewell, Natalie closed the window without hesitation. She even drew the curtains. The curtains swayed gently, like a trace left by her touch.  

Left alone beneath the window, Edgar chuckled softly. He gazed at the window where Natalie had been. She didn’t reappear, nor did she call his name again.  

Edgar finally turned away. Walking alone through the night streets, he absentmindedly touched his hand. His fingertips brushed against something he had forgotten.  

A ring remained on the ring finger of his left hand. A fake ring that looked convincingly real.  

As Edgar fiddled with the ring Natalie had left behind, a smile spread across his lips.