Episode 61

At those words, the boy tilted his head quizzically.

“That dumb sister, you mean?”

Marcus suppressed the urge to snatch back the five coins he had just given the boy. It was wrong for an adult to smack a child’s head, no matter the provocation.

The boy cheerfully motioned for him to follow.

“But that sister isn’t home right now!”

“I know. Not that girl…”

Marcus hesitated briefly. He didn’t know whether Elouise was living here as Juliet’s mother, or as her aunt.

However, the boy’s question easily resolved the matter: “Ah, did you come to see Aunt Abigail? Or Aunt Liz?”

Liz. That was unmistakably Elouise’s nickname.

The boy was not particularly courteous, and he only accompanied Marcus as far as a road well removed from the village.

“They live at the lord’s forester’s house. If you go to the edge of the woods and circle around the big boulder, you’ll find it. That’s where they live!” With those words, the boy darted away in a flash. Marcus didn’t even get a chance to toss him a few extra coins.

Marcus drew in a deep breath.

The warm, golden rays of the late afternoon sun tickled him. And yet, his hands were icy, and his heart pounded wildly. Beyond that boulder, if the boy’s words were to be believed, she would be there.

He tried to walk as slowly as he could, but his feet refused to heed his mind’s command. As much as he yearned—desperately—for this reunion with Elouise, he also realized, moment by moment, that part of him wanted to postpone it. If he were to arrive only to find her absent, he might collapse on the spot from the weight of his disappointment and quietly expire.

It was just as he rounded the boulder that he heard it—soft humming, the sound of someone singing. Marcus froze. He instantly recognized it as a voice he couldn’t forget, even in dreams.

“Little frogs, how funny they look. No ears, and no nose!”

The melody was off, and the rhythm was a mess. Yet the moment he heard that song, Marcus nearly wept and looked up at the sky. He widened his eyes to hold back the tears, only to realize the effort was in vain. He turned his gaze forward.

The house was tiny.

So small that only three or four people could lie down inside, with a low ceiling and a roof of thatch and timber that made it look almost shabby. Yet, perhaps because of the afternoon light, it possessed a warm and cozy appearance. In the yard stood a little pump. Though rusty in places, its craftsmanship was excellent.

In front of the pump lay a neatly paved stone platform, upon which sat a large wooden tub—big enough for two children to splash around in.

And inside that tub stood a woman, her pant legs rolled up, playfully splashing water.

Marcus squinted. Her movements seemed like nothing more than simple water play, but as he drew closer, he realized he had been mistaken. The woman was washing blankets.

The woman’s face appeared lovelier than he remembered as she held a baby in her arms and sang. Smiling, her face radiant with happiness, the woman murmured,

“Smiling already, my baby? You gave your poor mama such a hard time this morning!”

The baby in her arms had just a tuft of rich brown hair. Beneath the sunlight, the woman’s brown hair shimmered with a purplish tint. As the barely-awake baby gave a bubbly laugh, its green eyes sparkled.

Marcus was flustered. A heavy tear fell from his eye before he even realized it.

It wasn’t a tear of regret or sorrow.

---

Three years prior,

Elouise Starwood had left Cliff at dawn.

Summoned by a message from Madam Noskina, the Duchess hastily packed her bags in the early hours and waited with Abigail at a secluded spot in Cliff.

For three days after leaving, Elouise’s heart pounded in fear.

She feared the hot-tempered man might appear at any moment to drag her back. But as a week passed, then ten days, there was no sign of him—not even a glimpse. Eventually, Elouise was able to breathe easy, her thoughts focused solely on leaving with the whining Juliet.

She hadn’t forgotten Madam Noskina's advice. To accompany them only halfway—the suggestion turned out to be immensely helpful. And of course, the accompanying jewelry made it even more so.

The Duchess of Bellona didn’t head directly to the Bellona estate.

It was to avoid any potential pursuit. It took nearly three months to reach Bellona. During that time, Juliet was delighted by all the wondrous sights of new towns. Though Elouise found the journey rather enjoyable, she constantly kept her eyes open for the chance to slip away.

But in the end, she never left.

Because she found out—too late—that Abigail was pregnant.

“Damn it. Albert went through all the trouble to hide it from me while he was cheating on me…”

So said Abigail, once she realized her belly was starting to grow. Elouise couldn’t even bring herself to laugh. Juliet, however, was full of curiosity, constantly touching Abigail’s growing stomach and asking, “Is there really a baby in there?” and “Whose baby is it?”

The Duchess abruptly altered the course of their journey.

Once they arrived in Bellona, the three of them stayed at the duchy’s residence for some time. As the duchess was a physician, there was no need to seek out another. In the process, Elouise came to understand why the duchess had held such unusual influence in Cliff. Apparently, she had discreetly helped noblewomen suffering from female ailments.

Originally, Elouise had only planned to stay until Abigail gave birth. But after the child was born, her mind changed again—she’d leave once Abigail had recovered. When Abigail was finally able to get up, she postponed her departure once more—until Abigail could tend to the baby a bit. And when Abigail confessed that she couldn’t possibly stay at the duchy’s estate long-term, Elouise’s heart turned again: Then I’ll stay to help her…

In short, Elouise was the kind of person who couldn’t bear to abandon a friend.

No matter how much she disliked the Duchess of Bellona, that was one thing—and this was another.

And after enduring the birth and the series of chaotic events that followed, she began to understand the duchess a little.

More precisely, it was after witnessing this scene: the duchess, commenting, “Oh my, I’ve delivered many children, but this one looks like a little monkey,” and Abigail, newly delivered and weak as she was, mustering all her strength to sit up and slap the duchess across the back.

There was only one reason the two eventually left the duchy to live on their own: the servants found it difficult to serve the duchess’s esteemed guests.

Furthermore, even with Abigail present, Juliet had begun to hold her head high, obliviously basking in the servants’ attention.

It was an environment in which a child—who knew nothing—could easily become conceited. Worse still, Evenia Bellona treated Juliet as though she were the beloved younger sister she had lost, which did not help at all.

In the end, it was Abigail who insisted they leave the estate first.

“If someone saw them, they’d think Juliet or my child was the next heir to the duchy!”

It seemed Abigail shared the very thoughts Elouise had kept to herself. Though the duchess was disappointed, Abigail remained resolute. Elouise welcomed the decision.

They settled in a small village in the Bellona territory. That journey, in total, took two and a half years. To say that Elouise had never once thought of the man she had loved during that long span would be a lie.

In truth, she had thought of Marcus Hanger since the very dawn she fled Cliff. It would be more accurate to say not a day passed without him entering her mind. She feared he might come chasing after her, and yet, when he didn’t, she was at once relieved and faintly disappointed. It was a kind of emotional duality she had never known in life.

More often than she cared to admit, Elouise regretted not staying—regretted running away from Marcus.

Life with three women raising two children did not unfold with seamless serenity. Whenever hardships arose, she recalled the old saying that even a bad husband is better than none. And she began to wonder: Wasn’t Marcus Hanger at least better than a bad husband?

She belatedly realized how naïve she had been in the face of love. Leaving him simply because she didn’t want to witness the moment he stopped loving her—it was the kind of decision found only in children’s storybooks.

And yet, at the same time, she came to understand that her flight had been justified.

All because of a newspaper she saw one day.

In the distant Bellona territory, newspapers from the capital always arrived two days late. That day, she had gone to market on a whim and bought one for a handful of coins. In it was an article about the heir to the Hanger family, who had proceeded with marriage yet still hadn’t mended his ways—still toying with commoner girls as ever.

<Indeed, none would doubt that the growing gloom upon Marcus Hanger’s face was due to His Majesty the King’s official attestation. While high society let out a collective sigh of relief at the taming of the libertine of the century, all knew full well that his net did not ensnare only noble ladies…>

It was the favorite column of anyone with a taste for gossip.

At first, Elouise could not help but laugh at the notion that such an infamous rake had grown famous enough to grace the newspaper pages. Yet that laughter quickly dissolved into a feeling of her chest being torn apart. If the article spoke true, then he had once again gone off in search of a new love.

The face of the man who had once declared with certainty that none of his loves ever lasted more than two months sprang to mind.

Elouise tore the newspaper apart as if it were the very face of that man. The gentleman standing in front of the train station, who had been waiting to buy her paper for cheap once she finished, looked utterly perplexed. But such things barely registered in her mind. Ah, what a strange man she had fallen for.

She returned home that day and sobbed uncontrollably well into the night. Juliet was so alarmed, she couldn’t rest easy even into the following day. Elouise was astounded by how swift and accurate her own judgment had been—and yet, realizing that she still missed the warmth of his arms and the kindness in those green eyes made her claw at her chest in despair.

But oh, how cruel life can be.

The more she missed him, the more she knew he would only look upon her with cold indifference. Even if she were to go to him now, the man who had already turned his heart away from her would not spare her a glance.

Thoughts and longing came to haunt her nightly.

She grew thin, her appetite slowly vanishing.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just return to the capital?” The pregnant Abigail had suggested. But every time, Elouise would wave her hand dismissively, insisting she was fine. Merely hearing news of him pained her this much—how could she bear the thought of actually seeing him again, only to have him scowl and ask, “You left—so why return now?”

Things grew worse after she learned the King’s attestation was concerning “Elouise Hanger.”

Their marriage had never been registered, neither in Maine nor in the capital.

Naturally, they had submitted no certificate to the authorities. The marriage could easily be declared null. And yet, after discovering that Marcus had not annulled the marriage because of the royal attestation, Elouise found herself lying awake each night.

“Should I go to the capital so as not to bring dishonor to the Hanger name?”

“No, but if he’s only marrying me because of the estate, wouldn’t that be even more unbearable…?”

An endless stream of thoughts tormented her. Had the baby not arrived just then, Elouise might very well have withered away entirely and vanished from the world.

Abigail named the baby Quincy. She said it was the name of a boy she’d liked when she was young.

“To properly get revenge on that bastard, this much is the least I could do, don’t you think?”

Naming her son after another man—Abigail found delight in that act of revenge. There was something brisk and breezy about her, and despite having borne a child alone, she seemed surprisingly grounded. Elouise managed a faint smile.

She gladly volunteered to help care for baby Quincy. Abigail had suffered greatly during childbirth and took a long time to recover.

The servants of the manor lent their aid, but Elouise did not shy away from the more arduous tasks. Quincy, after all, was an especially sensitive baby. Whoever he took after, he continued waking every two hours even past his first year, crying at all hours and demanding to be nursed. With so much to tend to, stray thoughts had no time to take root in her mind.

As the baby's cheeks grew round and plump, Elouise’s own face began to regain its fullness. She ate whatever the baby left behind—no surprise there. Though she slept irregularly and was worn thin by the baby’s crying, she gradually regained her strength.

At last, she understood why her sister Louise had raised Juliet even through the most difficult of circumstances. Watching a baby grow, inch by inch with each passing day, made one forget the woes of the world. The green eyes were exactly like Albert Rependers’, but the soft brown curls were all Abigail’s. Even the man’s eyes, which had brought Abigail to tears, looked lovely when seen on the baby’s little face.

Had she borne his child, would it have looked like this? Elouise pondered this more than once—but that remained her secret alone.

Two women, a baby, and a young girl living outside the manor—villagers regarded them with a certain disapproval. Duchess Bellona had deliberately given them the forester’s house. The forester, tasked with managing the lands, was someone the townspeople dared not touch.

It was also Duchess Bellona who assigned a tutor to Juliet.

Juliet grew more beautiful with each year, but the villagers all knew she was slow-witted.

Though she lived in the forester’s house under the lord’s protection, the three women knew full well what could happen if they left such a pretty yet simple girl too exposed in town. Seeing the Duchess send a carriage for Juliet every day, Abigail finally suggested she live at the manor instead.

Elouise hesitated, but nothing was more important than Juliet. In the end, Juliet came down to the village only once every three days. Tragically, the girl, still so childlike at heart, spent all her time absorbed in learning new things from her governess at the manor, and even when she returned to Elouise’s side, all she awaited was the next trip back.

But whenever she brought her drawings and curious paper models, Elouise began to understand—if only a little—why the girl was so fond of the manor. Evenia Bellona, at the very least, spared no expense when it came to educating a young girl. It was as if she were pouring into Juliet all the care she had never given her own sister.

Quincy grew quickly.

By two years old, he was already giving the two women quite the ordeal. Some nights, he cried without rest; others, he slept through the entire day. Even the so-called genius, Abigail, surrendered completely before the whims of such an unpredictable child. “What kind of college graduate can’t even put a two-year-old to bed?” Elouise would tease, rocking the baby. Abigail would retort, “College is for men only! They don’t teach you delicate things like this!”

That day too, baby Quincy had cried all night and devoured everything by morning.

Abigail had taken him out into the woods at dawn to rock him under the starlight—because Elouise needed the sleep. Thanks to her, Elouise had finally managed to rest a little.

Come afternoon, bathed in sunlight, Quincy fell asleep as if nothing had happened.

Abigail, her eyes shadowed with fatigue, muttered in irritation, “Who on earth did he get that temperament from?”

Elouise simply smiled and patted Abigail gently, lulling her to sleep. She still had to do the laundry in the afternoon. With summer fast approaching, the straw in the bedding would need to be replaced.

She emptied the old straw, stuffed the covers into a wooden basin, and began to work. Quincy continued to wake and sleep in turns throughout. Elouise filled the basin with water and, using her feet, stomped down the blankets while gently rocking Quincy. Doing two things at once was no longer a challenge for her.

“What a happy baby you are, hmm? After giving your poor mama such a hard time at dawn!”

Truly, Quincy looked like an angel. No one would’ve guessed he was the same baby who had caused such trouble that morning. Elouise rocked him gently and turned around—and almost dropped the child in shock.

Standing at the edge of the fence was the man she had dreamed of even in her sleep.

---

Prev || Toc || Next