Charlotte, not being a Glasko native, didn’t know the particulars, but from what she’d caught in passing, it seemed that up until a few months ago the people here hadn’t even known who was building Raymond Bayen’s hotel.

Then, relatively recently, with the hotel’s completion drawing near, the owner everyone had been so curious about finally appeared—and good heavens! He turned out to be a young foreign businessman. The owner of the largest hotel in Glasko—no, perhaps the most luxurious in all of Belpatsha—a foreigner? When his identity first came to light, the people of Glasko regarded him with unease, but they were soon won over, hearts melted by the ultra-lavish party he threw. All save one person here, that is.

“Build it in his own country—why come make all this fuss in someone else’s? And of all places, why did it have to be Glasko!”

Veins stood out vividly on the frail fist of Madam Spencer, who ran a business in the very same trade.

“I’ll grant that other people carousing and living it up in his company is one thing. But Elena, of all people, shouldn’t be doing that, should she?”

“Elena is a sociable person. And keeping a reasonable acquaintance with Mr. Bayen might be better than keeping her distance from him. Wouldn’t that put her in a better position to keep an eye on which way the wind’s blowing?”

Charlotte spoke carefully, and Madam Spencer let out a small laugh.

“Taking Elena’s side, are you. What, did she go and ask you to defend her whenever I have something to say about her?”

“It’s that Elena’s a good person. So one naturally wants to take her side.”

“Hmph. When did the two of you get this close…”

Putting her glasses back on, Madam Spencer said,

“In any case, if you see Elena, tell her I want a word. That girl simply never stays put at home, so I can hardly ever get a conversation in. I’d dearly love to mix you and Elena together and split you down the middle into two.”

“…”

Charlotte smiled, slipping her gaze aside. Not once since coming here had she gone out. Anyone not on visiting terms with House Spencer would surely have no idea that someone who wasn’t a Spencer lived in this manor.

“You must be the only girl who’d come all the way to Glasko only to shut herself up indoors. If going out alone feels too awkward, you could just tag along with Elena, you know.”

“Would you be pleased to have me attend Mr. Bayen’s parties as well, then?”

“Is that the sort of thing I’m saying?”

“I know. I was joking too.”

Charlotte shrugged and smiled.

“You know how to joke, and yet why do you find going outside so difficult? If you stay in this state, I won’t be able to send you back to Sandem.”

Charlotte’s face hardened in an instant. Madam Spencer swallowed a sigh. She didn’t know what Charlotte had been through in Sandem, but she could roughly imagine it. House Roman’s influence in Sandem was formidable, after all.

Just how flea-sized must the place be for a family like that to throw its weight around.

Swallowing her troubled feelings, Madam Spencer held out an envelope.

“A letter from your maid. It got mixed in with my mail.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s coldly hardened face softened and melted away, as though meeting the sunlight of a spring day. Madam Spencer let out a low chuckle.

“Well, I never. Anyone watching would think she’d gone months without word from the person.”

Charlotte and Marge exchanged word often. There was no telling how delighted Marge had been to hear that Charlotte was eating and sleeping properly.

“Just seeing Marge’s name makes me glad and grateful through and through. And sorry, too.”

Even though things had turned out this way, Charlotte wished Marge could return home to her hometown with an easy mind. And yet Marge did not go back.

Knowing that Marge couldn’t leave because she was worried about her, Charlotte fretted over it all the more. Just then, as it happened, Madam Spencer asked how it would be if Marge stayed here as well. Charlotte sent off a letter in high spirits, but Marge declined.

Because you hadn’t gone out even before you left, no one realizes you’ve disappeared. But if I vanish, they’ll find out you’ve left the manor. And then those wicked people will rest all the easier, won’t they? I can’t bear to watch that.

Marge was certain that, even as the people of House Roman or Fiona laughed and lived their merry ha-ha, ho-ho lives, they were surely watching for Charlotte’s reaction all the while. If the people of Sandem clinging so firmly to House Roman’s side were human at all, then it was only right that some corner of their hearts felt uneasy whenever they thought of Charlotte.

My lady. I’m not lonely in the least. Even when I go out now and then, I’ve never once feared people’s stares. Because the lady I served did nothing wrong! So, my lady—please don’t worry about me at all, and just stay healthy and happy. That’s all I need.

It was when she read that letter that Charlotte first learned: that a person can imbue written words with body warmth.

Turning her eyes back to her work, Madam Spencer said to Charlotte, who was gazing happily at the envelope,

“Read your letter outside, why don’t you. As I said before, when Elena comes back, be sure to tell her to come to me.”

“Yes. I will.”

The moment she left the study, Charlotte tore open the envelope. She read the letter slowly as she made her way toward her room. The pages were filled with trivial daily happenings, like a diary.

I’m glad she’s keeping well and healthy.

But there was something odd. As the letter’s contents drew to a close, she realized the pages in her hand were not just one.

Well then, my lady, I’ll write again next— oh dear! I nearly left out the most important news. A letter came from the Earlister ducal house yesterday, so I’m enclosing it together.

Charlotte’s startled steps came to a halt.

The Earlister ducal house? Surely not…

About two months ago, Charlotte had learned through the newspaper of the passing of the late Earlister. They had sent someone to her father’s funeral, and to her dreadful… wedding as well, so she’d wondered whether it wouldn’t be only proper to call on them in person. But at that time, facing people was even harder than it is now. Just the thought of going out left her gasping for breath—at that point.

In the end, Charlotte decided to write a letter. She consoled herself with the thought that even if she did go in person, the funeral would already be over, and that someone like her calling on so busy a personage would surely only be a hindrance.

Charlotte read the rest of the letter Marge had written.

In case it might be an urgent matter, I opened it first myself. Please do forgive me for acting so presumptuously on my own.

Charlotte thought that sort of thing didn’t matter in the slightest, and quickly turned to the back page. On what was plainly fine, high-grade stationery, an elegant cursive hand had left a short passage.

Lady Prairie. Thank you for your prayers for the late Duke’s repose. They brought me great comfort.

It occurs to me that to live one’s life is much like making a voyage. There are times we meet a great storm and suffer, but if we endure all the same, surely we’ll come to face a beautifully glittering sea beneath a clear, cloudless sky.

I shall be well, so I pray that you, my lady, will keep well too. Until we meet again someday.

—Duke Earlister.

Charlotte was thoroughly startled. Surely letters were pouring in from every corner of Belpatsha, so she’d assumed the one she sent would never even reach the Duke—and yet not only had he read it…

To think he would send a reply himself, like this.

It was the very moment Charlotte breathed out a small “Huh…” that Elena, on the verge of tears and creeping along on tiptoe, appeared in the second-floor corridor.

“Elena? Has something happened?”

Startled by Charlotte’s voice, she hurriedly raised a hand to her lips and pleaded for quiet—shh! shh! When the flustered Charlotte nodded, Elena snatched her by the hand and made for the room as if fleeing.

Having shut the door in haste—but quietly—Elena stroked her chest and said, on the verge of tears,

“Ahh. What am I going to do…!”

“Why? Has something happened?”

Charlotte asked, going pale right along with her. Elena let the corners of her lips droop and said,

“The thing is, a piece of pottery…”

“You bought some pottery?”

Charlotte asked, knitting her brow. Elena had a tendency toward impulsive overspending. Could it be she’d unthinkingly bought some expensive pottery at a shop clerk’s sweet whispering? The instant Charlotte harbored that suspicion, Elena shook her head rapidly and said,

“Noo. I broke it by accident!”

“What? How on earth! No—whose was it? How much was it worth?”

Charlotte asked in an anxious voice, taken aback.

“Well, you see…”

What had happened to Elena today was the sort of thing that could happen to anyone.

“When you’re looking at a shop window display, you don’t really watch where you’re going, do you?”

Walking along, lost in admiring the sparkling, pretty accessories, she went and collided with someone coming the other way. The person happened to be carrying a large box too, so they hadn’t seen Elena—that was how it happened.

[Whoa—?!]

The man, thrown off balance, dropped the box right out of his hands, and crash!—the uproarious sound of it shattering brought the bustling shopping street to a hush.

[What do you think you’ve done?!]

[I-I’m so sorry!]

[Do you know what this was! How much it was worth! How are you going to make up for this?!]

Hearing the story, Charlotte knitted her brow.

“He says he didn’t watch where he was going either. You both failed to be careful, so why is he telling only Elena to take responsibility?”

“Of course I said exactly that. I felt sorry, but I thought the accounting of it ought to be settled fair and square.”

But that merchant, so the story went, paid no heed whatsoever to Elena’s words and, in a fury, said something to this effect:

“He said he’d go straight to Mr. Bayen and tell him the pottery had been broken because of me. By now it’ll have reached Mr. Bayen’s ears, surely. He left before I even had a chance to stop him.”

“…Uh, so the true owner of that pottery is Mr. Bayen?”

“Yes! So it must be something terribly expensive! Ahh, what do I do. I know I have to go and explain the situation and apologize, but…”

Saying she simply couldn’t muster the courage to go alone and so had come back, Elena finally let the tears show. Sniff…

Charlotte’s mouth fell open. Because she’d realized what it was she had to do.

I knew I’d have to go out eventually, but I never imagined it would be like this.

She truly hadn’t seen it coming. But something even more unforeseen happened after she ended up face to face, alone, with Raymond.

“Um… I’m sorry, but.”

Charlotte swallowed dryly and asked Raymond,

“How did you come to know my surname?”