Chapter 6.1 – A Reason to Visit You

“Did Mr. Wharton really say he would come?”

“Yes, isn’t it great news? It’s a perfect opportunity to show Mr. Wharton that you are a cultured and flawless bride-to-be.”

For noble young ladies who grew up with marriage as their ultimate goal, learning to play musical instruments was one of the essential tasks to become an ideal bride. The wealthier the family, the more they desired a wife who could serve as a presentable nameplate rather than just a skilled seamstress. 

A wife who could mingle well with people, enhance her reputation in social circles, and effortlessly play the piano—a wife whose polished refinement would earn praise.

Mrs. Mars softened her brows and cast a worried glance.

“Who would refuse a wealthy and young man as a marriage partner? But men are rarely consistent. They may act as if they’ll promise a lifetime until last night, but come morning, they’re likely to change their minds.”

Mrs. Mars carefully stacked words that Natalie found hard to ignore.

“I’m only saying this because I care about you. I often hear stories about people dating someone easy to leave and marrying someone else based on conditions. It’s truly a pity for women.”

Mrs. Mars clasped Natalie’s hand as if consoling her for something that had already happened. Her words sounded like a prophecy for the future—a future where Natalie would stop being Mr. Wharton’s fake lover, and he would return to Miss Windsor. Sometimes, a light remark could unintentionally strike a corner of someone’s heart with precision.

Natalie couldn’t refuse the premature consolation and could only let her hand be held. Marriage with Mr. Wharton felt like a mismatched combination of words. It was hard to imagine a man who shone brightly everywhere he went living as the ordinary husband of one woman. 

Yet, such a day would surely come—a day when he would become someone’s husband and father. On that day, it was clear that the person by his side would not be Natalie.

Natalie touched her lips to suppress the bitter pain, but her chapped skin only stung more. As she sank into the sorrowful thoughts that even the rain couldn’t wash away, she met Mrs. Mars’s gaze. 

Her look, as if ready to ask what was wrong, made Natalie smile as if nothing was the matter. At that, Mrs. Mars quickly returned to her excited demeanor, sharing her expectations for the recital.

***

Mr. Wharton was said to have no issues. Dr. Snow only offered advice that even Maurice, with no medical knowledge, could have given: eat meals on time and get some rest. 

Mr. Wharton himself smiled calmly, as if he truly had no problems. But then, something strange happened. The incident occurred on the way to the Flavium Theater.

Maurice and Mr. Wharton were certainly walking side by side. But at some point, Mr. Wharton disappeared. What Maurice saw was Mr. Wharton’s back, walking like a sleepwalker.

“Mr. Wharton! Where are you going?”

Maurice hurriedly ran to catch Mr. Wharton. Following his gaze, Maurice saw an unfamiliar woman. Her light brown hair swayed in the wind. The young lady held onto her hat, which was blowing away, and lifted her head.

Upon seeing her face, Mr. Wharton let out a short sigh, “Ah.” As if regaining his senses, he brushed back his blonde hair and smiled.

“I was mistaken.”

It was a calm smile, as if nothing had happened. But Maurice couldn’t remain calm. Strange things continued to happen. The rain-soaked streets were dotted with puddles.

“Be careful. There’s a puddle.”

Maurice addressed Mr. Wharton, but no response came. Turning around, he saw Mr. Wharton staring down at a puddle, as if he had dropped something important into it. 

Maurice stood beside him and looked down at the puddle as well. All he could see was the sky reflected on the water’s surface and Mr. Wharton’s beautiful face.

Was he looking at his own reflection? 

Maurice glanced at Mr. Wharton. He continued to stare at the puddle, blinking occasionally.

“…What exactly are you looking at?”

Maurice cautiously asked. Mr. Wharton lifted his head. Once again, as if coming to his senses belatedly, he sighed, “Ah.” Meeting Maurice’s gaze, he smiled faintly.

“A rainbow.”

A rainbow? 

Maurice looked down at his feet again. A faint, almost imperceptible rainbow had formed. It was a relief that what Mr. Wharton saw wasn’t a hallucination. 

Mr. Wharton, as if no longer captivated by the rainbow, walked past the puddle. To Maurice, who stood there dumbfounded, he asked, 

“Aren’t you coming?”

When they finally arrived at the Flavium Theater, an incident broke out. The front of the theater was bustling with people trying to get tickets for tonight’s performance. Maurice spoke to Mr. Wharton as he observed the scene.

“Mr. Wharton, your ghost seems to have been quite effective. How did you come up with such an idea?”

“I like it.”

“Pardon?”

“The phrase ‘your ghost.’”

“Oh, yes.”

“Shouldn’t we thank it?”

“…Who are you referring to?”

“The ghost.”

Maurice felt as though their conversation wasn’t connecting. He was unsettled. It seemed that Mr. Wharton wasn’t entirely fine. While Maurice’s expression darkened with worry, Mr. Wharton’s face brightened, as if he had thought of something delightful.

“If you receive help, it’s only polite to express gratitude. That’s reason enough to visit, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Thank you.”

“…For what, exactly?”

“For giving me an excuse.”

Before the bewildered Maurice, Mr. Wharton suddenly pressed his forehead and frowned.

“You were right, Maurice. I think I’m unwell.”

It was clearly a half-hearted act. 

Coincidentally, a carriage arrived at the theater. A well-dressed gentleman and lady were just stepping down. 

Mr. Wharton strode toward the carriage and climbed aboard as if it were his own. The gentleman and lady were startled, but Mr. Wharton smiled. With one foot already in the carriage, he gallantly kissed the lady’s hand.

“Allow me to borrow this for a moment. I’m not feeling well.”

The lady blushed and smiled shyly. Having commandeered the carriage, Mr. Wharton fairly kissed the gentleman’s cheek as well. 

Maurice didn’t manage to check if the gentleman also blushed. By the time he called out, “Mr. Wharton!” in urgency, the carriage was already speeding away. 

All Maurice could see was Mr. Wharton’s hand waving kindly through the still-open door.

***

There are days when one feels unwell for no reason. Days when one can’t sleep and gets lost in thoughts. Things that usually don’t matter suddenly take over one’s mind, leaving no room for anything else. 

The scenery had grown quiet as the grand theater faded into the distance. After the rain, the world seemed more vibrant, with lush greenery filling the view.

Edgar adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, unaware of the similarity between rainbows and green leaves that stole his gaze. As he straightened his misaligned sleeves and brushed back his stray hair, the carriage gradually came to a stop. Even as he touched his hair again, knowing it couldn’t have gotten messy in such a short time.

As he stepped out of the carriage, Edgar’s gaze naturally turned toward the window. The curtain swayed in the breeze. It was easy to imagine Natalie behind the fluttering fabric. The moving curtain felt like a mirage pulling his steps forward. 

Edgar’s pace gradually quickened as he approached the door, leaving behind any sense of leisure he had while exiting the carriage. Even as he knocked on the door and explained the reason for his visit to the servant, Edgar felt an inexplicable restlessness. 

Following the maid’s guidance, he walked toward the sound of a piano.

The tempo of the music alternated between slow and fast, resembling hesitant footsteps. The sound of the piano grew closer, and the identity of the player became clear. 

The young lady who had cautiously watched her steps in the dark garden now pressed the keys just as carefully. 

Edgar stopped in his tracks at the open door. He could see her back as she sat at the piano. Her light brown hair flowed softly as she tilted her head to look at the keys.

The warm sunlight of the rain-cleared afternoon crossed the room. As if finding its rightful owner, the sunlight fell on Natalie. Her movements, flowing with the touch of her fingers on the keys, brought to mind the rainbow that had shimmered over a puddle. 

Edgar lightly knocked on the door. The music stopped. Natalie turned around. Her green eyes, brightened by the light, sparkled like the deepened greenery after a summer rain. In the world, nothing happened without reason. Edgar’s reason was right in front of him.

Natalie stared at the blonde gentleman at the door with wide eyes. Her fingertips, as if lost, pressed the wrong key, producing a discordant sound. As the off-key melody echoed, Natalie blinked in a daze. The person who had occupied her thoughts all day now stood at the door.

“…Mr. Wharton?”

Why are you here? 

She murmured, leaving the question unspoken. Mr. Wharton, who had walked out of her thoughts, smiled.

“Continue what you were doing. Don’t mind me.”

Hearing his familiar, gentle voice, Natalie was finally certain that she wasn’t imagining things. She couldn’t take her eyes off Mr. Wharton as he approached her. 

Despite his words to not mind him, her attention was entirely stolen. It wasn’t until Mr. Wharton stood right in front of her that Natalie adjusted her posture toward the piano.