Chapter 4

The journey from the capital Quinzeload to Terez was shorter than expected, thanks to quickly clearing weather. Though they had anticipated three or four days due to muddy roads, they arrived in two.

“We’ve arrived.”

The iron gates, embossed with the family crest symbolizing faith and wisdom, opened with a heavy sound. Though the days were longer, it was still early and dim outside. Annie, shading her candle with a lampshade, looked out the window and sighed lightly.

“It’s only been a month, but it feels as if we’ve been gone for ages.”

Olivia smiled faintly at Annie’s words. She realized they had left a month ago as three, and now returned as three as well—though one had changed.

Soon, the carriage glided to a stop along the smooth road, wide enough for two carriages to pass freely. Twenty servants, including the butler who had received the telegram, stood in a line atop the marble steps of the main hall. Normally, the butler would open the carriage door and Olivia would accept his escort, but the situation was different. As the elderly man approached and opened the door, it was the unfamiliar man who stepped out first.

The butler stepped back in surprise, and Vincent, landing lightly, extended his hand to Olivia.

“Lady Olivia.”

“Sir Vincent.”

As she reached for his hand to disembark, a strange feeling ran through her fingertips. Instinctively, she almost pulled away.

“….”

Fortunately, it was only a fleeting impulse. She felt a strong grip on her hand, and her feet naturally touched the ground. At the same time, Vincent released her hand.

“I’ve been waiting, Madam.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“And this gentleman…?”

Gerald, who had waited his turn, approached cautiously. Olivia felt responsible for breaking the awkwardness and spoke again.

“This is Butler Gerald, Sir Vincent.”

“I see. Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine…”

Vincent bowed slightly, and Gerald greeted him with polite confusion. Watching them, Olivia finished the introduction.

“Gerald, this is Sir Vincent, a knight on pilgrimage. He’ll be staying for a while.”

She didn’t need to look back to know—all the servants’ eyes, especially the young maids’, were fixed on Vincent. Annie, who had just climbed down with the help of the coachman, wore an expression as if she had expected this.

* * *

People called the Harper Earldom’s mansion Fitzhend Hall. No one knew where the name came from, but ‘Fitzhend Hall of Southern Terez’ was enough for locals to recognize it.

The first thing guests saw at Fitzhend Hall was the well-trimmed lawn and maze garden. The mansion itself was vast, built on open plains. Its centerpiece was the central banquet hall with a massive domed spire, flanked on both sides. The basement housed the kitchen and storage, above which were the main hall, dining room, parlor, and chandelier-lit ballroom on the first floor. The second floor contained guest rooms for visiting relatives and the Earl and Countess, as well as a large library. Above that were the office, dozens of guest rooms on the third and fourth floors, and at the top, the attic used by servants.

Yet Olivia’s favorite place was not the grand mansion itself, but elsewhere. Following the corridor lined with portraits of generations of Harper Earls and Countesses from the edge of the first floor, one reached the glass garden behind the mansion. Unlike the maze garden in front, meticulously tended by professional gardeners, the glass garden was a place most often and most lovingly cared for by Olivia herself.

For that reason, even when she was away, the glass garden received extra attention. Upon her return, it was the first place she visited after a short rest.

“It’s breathtaking as always. You’d be hard-pressed to find a garden like this even in picture books.”

“It blooms as much as you care for it. That’s how flowers are.”

“The late Lady Harper loved this place dearly.”

Tea time among the colorful hydrangeas at the heart of the garden was one of Olivia’s few precious escapes. Seated at the round tea table with her at the center were the two women closest to her since she became Countess Harper: Annie, her childhood maid and milk sister, and Lady Greta, Lenahan’s great aunt, now in her sixties.

Lady Greta was also the most influential elder in the mansion after Olivia herself. Having lost her husband in a riding accident in her thirties, childless and with nowhere else to go, she had lived at Fitzhend Hall ever since.

Sometimes the two seemed to get along well, at other times not so much.

“Madame, did the late Earl Harper also plant flowers for his wife every year?”

“No, their relationship was harmonious, but not quite like with your husband.”

“….”

Watching the two exchange words, Olivia slowly looked away. At times like this, they were perfectly in sync.

They sometimes clashed over household matters, but when it came to the Earl and Countess’s marital harmony, Lady Greta and Annie stood united. Their banter made Olivia want to laugh, so she lifted her teacup to her lips. It was all pointless.

“You have no idea how romantic the Earl is.”

“Oh yes, Annie. He’s always been that way. Even if he strayed, he always found the right path again.”

“My, that’s wonderful to hear, Madame.”

It was clear what Lady Greta meant by ‘strayed’ and ‘right path,’ and Olivia felt embarrassed listening. She sipped her tea slowly, afraid she might choke if she listened too closely. The comfort and ease she’d felt moments ago seemed to dissolve into the air. Whether Olivia herself was uncomfortable or not, Annie admired the flowers in the vase at the center of the table and spoke again.

“I’m so happy to see the lush hydrangeas you chose for your room this year.”

“I made sure to care for them well, since you couldn’t bring them to the townhouse.”

Planting flowers was a ritual between Olivia and her husband. Nine years ago, the year after she married, Lenahan had planted three hydrangeas himself. When they bloomed, he chose the most splendid one and placed it in the vase by her window.

—This flower suits you so well, Livvy.

At the threshold of summer, Lenahan had been as kind as ever, his affection seeming eternal. It was here he first called her by her nickname. And then he abandoned her. Now, that proof of affection was nothing more than deception. Was it all just a performance to him, something to stop whenever he tired of it?

“….”

Suddenly plagued by memories, Olivia stood up without realizing it. Two voices called out to her at once.

“Madam?”

“Madame?”

She had no time to look at the two women’s startled faces. The memories clawed at her, tightening around her throat. It felt as if a sharp blade were cutting into her chest. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing in so the others wouldn’t notice.

One scene kept replaying in her mind.

It was the fourth wedding anniversary. The mansion was bustling with guests for the banquet, yet the master of the house was nowhere to be seen. Not even the servants could find him, so in the end, the last place Olivia entered was the glass garden. There, she saw her husband with his mistress, sitting together, unconcerned about others’ eyes, chatting intimately at this very spot.

Her breathing grew ragged. She’d reached her limit.

“I want to go outside and walk for a bit.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Annie immediately stood up, but Olivia shook her head firmly.

“That would be disrespectful to the old Madame. Keep her company, Annie.”

Olivia was always endlessly generous with Annie, but in the end, the relationship between Countess and maid was clear. When Olivia wore such a blank expression, Annie always obeyed her words.

“Then, Madame, I’ll excuse myself first.”

Leaving behind the two pairs of eyes clinging to her back, Olivia left the glass garden. She felt as if she might drown, even without water.

* * *

Click.

After circling the mansion once and feeling occasional glances, Olivia returned inside. She visited her room, changed into more comfortable indoor clothes, and entered the study. As soon as she opened the familiar door, she saw someone standing a few steps ahead with his back turned. At the sound of her presence, the man slowly turned around. Their eyes met—dark as the night.

It was the gaze that had persistently, yet secretly, watched her in the cramped carriage. Olivia drew a small breath.

“…Sir Vincent.”

Seeing her startled expression, Vincent closed the book he was holding and put it back on the shelf.

“If I surprised you, I apologize.”

Olivia quickly composed herself and shook her head.

“Not at all. It was my decision to allow you access to this place.”

She was relieved that curtains covered the study’s windows, making it too dark for him to see her clearly. Her hair might have gotten messy in the wind while she walked quickly earlier. Her face might have turned pale—her health hadn’t been good lately.

Her tangled thoughts stopped there. Vincent, who had stood several steps away, strode forward by two steps.

“…!”

This man could seem perfectly gentlemanly, yet at the most unexpected moments, he would cross the line. He had trespassed an invisible boundary. Instinctively, Olivia stepped back, and Vincent stopped, confronted by her reaction like a frightened rabbit.