Chapter 6.8

It was natural that Sally Maron didn’t seem to match the sender of the letter. She hadn’t written it.

The true author of the letter, Natalie Maron, hesitated. Her gaze wandered toward the door, as if she intended to follow Mrs. Mars out.

Leonard softly called, “Miss Maron.” The young lady, unable to avoid the situation, offered an awkward smile.

“Hello, Mr. Salinger. The weather is lovely today.”

It was a formal greeting, as if she had been taught to respond that way whenever her name was called. Leonard offered a polite smile in return.

“Come in. I believe we have something to discuss.”

Hesitant, Natalie entered the drawing room, her gaze fixed on the floor. She chose a chair far from the fireplace where Leonard stood.

Leonard spoke without approaching her.

“Did you write a letter to me? Using your sister’s name?”

He asked directly.

Natalie, who had been looking down at her feet, raised her head to meet Leonard’s gaze. Her wide, round eyes shone with an innocent light that made it hard to think of her as someone capable of deceit.

Leonard calmly presented the evidence he had found.

“The handwriting in the letter I received coincidentally matches the handwriting in the poem Mrs. Mars received as a gift. Mrs. Mars mentioned that you wrote it. Is that correct?”

“……”

Natalie’s green eyes wavered as she stared at Leonard. She parted her lips but remained silent, offering neither excuses nor rebuttals.

“Last night, I met a young man who had also received a letter. He proudly told me how talented his lover was at writing, even showing me the letter. Miss Maron, your skill in writing has certainly deceived that young man.”

“…I didn’t intend to deceive anyone.”

Natalie finally broke her silence. Her expression, filled with confusion, steadied as she continued.

“Yes, I wrote it. Sally’s letter. And many more letters besides.”

Her words, initially spoken with trembling breaths, grew calmer. Her gaze, now resolute, met Leonard’s.

“But none of them were lies. Every word was sincere. Everyone who asked me to write a letter truly loved their partner.”

As Natalie spoke, her expression seemed almost determined, as if she were defending the genuine love of all those she had helped. It was unclear whether the young lady before him was a liar who ensnared young men with sweet words or a Cupid who brought true love to life. Perhaps she was both.

Love approached with sweet words, making the world feel filled with romance, but when it departed, it left only disillusionment. In that sense, Cupid, who blinded people with love’s illusion, was a mischievous liar.

As Leonard pondered, the Cupid who had captivated so many continued speaking calmly.

“I’ve heard countless stories from those in love — what they adore about their partners, what they wish to convey. I wrote those letters as if the feelings were my own. If I could express their unspoken emotions and make someone happy, there’d be no greater reward.”

Though people might resent the god of love for piercing their hearts with arrows, the one wielding the arrows seemed devoid of malice. She believed in love more than anyone else.

Like a devoted believer who trusted their god without question.

Leonard once again met her innocent gaze.

“How did you know I liked Macbeth?”

It was a mystery yet unsolved.

How had she known that Leonard liked Macbeth — a fact he had never shared with anyone? How had her words made him feel as though he’d found someone who truly understood him?

In response to Leonard’s question, Natalie’s determined expression softened into a gentle smile. The resolute Cupid vanished, leaving behind a young lady who appeared as innocent as her age suggested.

“I didn’t know. I just wrote about something I liked.”

Leonard let out a hollow laugh at the anticlimactic resolution.

As Leonard laughed, Natalie seemed to relax, stretching her legs, which had been neatly folded. Her loosened posture gave her a younger, more innocent appearance.

Leonard felt even more disheartened realizing that the Cupid who had kept gentlemen awake at night was merely a shy girl.

Miss Maron’s innocence seemed to stem from her unshakable trust in the world. Because she herself was pure, she believed others were as well — a naivety that bordered on foolishness.

The author of the letters possessed no cunning to deceive others. How, then, had a single letter made people fall in love?

Because they had wanted to fall in love.

People dismissed love and romance as foolish and trivial, yet they still yearned for them. They doubted, but they still hoped there were things in the world worth believing in.

Even those who vehemently denied love might secretly long for it — for a love that was flawless and unbreakable.

Leonard, at the moment when the tangled knots in his mind seemed to unravel, suddenly thought of someone. He recalled Edgar, who denied love with eyes full of it, and his words.

“I have no intention of getting married.”

Whether his affection for Miss Maron was genuine or not, those words could have been sincere. A man who sought no binding ties might once again take only love and leave the other person behind. 

Leonard gazed at the author of the letter, which he had read over and over again — the letter that had struck him like an arrow.

If Edgar had no desire for marriage, what would happen to this innocent young lady?

The social season, which returned yearly for young men and women of marriageable age, was of utmost importance. If it passed without any success, they would have to anxiously wait until the next year. For noblewomen in particular, this was a critical matter. With each passing year, the number of gentlemen asking them to dance would visibly decrease.

It was an unspoken rule in society not to approach someone who already had a prospective partner for marriage. Thus, if Edgar would not let her go, Miss Maron would spend an important social season with someone who had no intention of marrying her.

Leonard quietly observed Natalie. Her upright posture and neat attire gave her a more mature impression than her age, as someone who had just come of age. However, the face that looked up at him still bore traces of youthful naivety, unaware of the ways of the world.

“What do you think of me, Miss Maron?”

“…Pardon?”

“Have you ever thought of me as a potential husband? If you’ve ever liked me, then you wouldn’t perceive me negatively, would you?”

The composed demeanor Natalie had been maintaining faltered for a moment. Leonard, unaffected by her reaction, continued speaking.

“What I need is not a lighthearted lover for a brief encounter. I need a life partner. And I believe it is the same for you, Miss Maron. Don’t you also need a partner for marriage, not just a romantic relationship?”

“……”

Silence followed instead of an answer.

What Miss Maron needed was not a wandering piper but a husband who would build a home with her. A husband who could rescue her from the trap of wasting a social season on someone unwilling to marry her.

Leonard believed he could fulfill that role. He believed he could willingly save the innocent Miss Maron.

As the drawing room remained quiet, Mrs. Mars’ voice seeped into the silence. The sound of hurried footsteps suggested she was not alone.

“Thank you so much for coming. This way, please. We already have some guests here. Doesn’t the tea smell wonderful? These cups are quite precious, but I brought them out for today’s special guests.”

With her voice, Mrs. Mars entered first, carrying a tea tray, followed by the maid. Several gentlemen in coats entered after them, their faces lighting up upon spotting Leonard.

“Mr. Salinger, you’re here too! It’s delightful to see you here.”

One of the gentlemen greeted him warmly. Leonard shifted his gaze away from Natalie. After exchanging a few pleasantries with the newcomers, he glanced back at the spot where Natalie had been.

Natalie had already left her seat and was now sitting at the piano.

As the guests arrived one after another, the drawing room quickly grew lively. Mrs. Mars tirelessly welcomed the guests with a constant stream of chatter.

Amid the noise, the faint sound of piano keys being pressed could occasionally be heard.

Since Mrs. Mars did not introduce Natalie first, none of the guests approached her to greet her. As a result, Natalie sat alone in a corner of the room, no different from a hired pianist. The only one who paid her any attention was Leonard. 

Even as he responded to greetings from others, he occasionally glanced at Natalie. He even found himself imagining Natalie, seated at the piano, as his wife.

At the very least, he thought, he wouldn’t regret such a marriage.

He recalled the excited voice of the young man he had met the day before.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to propose. Someday, we might take out the letters we exchanged and reminisce about today.”

What had seemed like someone else’s story now felt like his own.

He decided to propose.

Tomorrow, or perhaps even today.

While Leonard pondered the perfect timing, guests continued to arrive. Among Mrs. Mars’ “special guests,” the most notable ones were the Duke’s young lady and Edgar Wharton.