Chapter 3: A Warm Room and the First Ally
We arrived at the old greenhouse estate of House Weiss a little past noon.
The old greenhouse estate stood atop a hill about half a day from the royal capital.
It had originally been a villa my grandmother used for growing medicinal herbs, but now only an elderly caretaker couple maintained it in quiet obscurity.
It was not a grand mansion.
But it had a glass greenhouse along the southern side that welcomed plenty of sunlight.
The old fireplaces still remained as well.
For letting Lucy rest, it was far better than the guest room in the north wing of the marquis house.
“Welcome home, my lady.”
The caretaker, Martha, greeted us with tears in her eyes.
It had been a long time since someone had called me “young lady.”
After marrying, I had been the marchioness, milady, Gilbert’s wife.
But all of those titles felt heavy now.
“I’m sorry for arriving so suddenly.
We’ll be in your care for a while.”
“What are you saying?
This estate belongs to your family.
There is no need for hesitation when the young lady and the young lady’s daughter are coming here to rest.”
Martha looked at Lucy and softened her expression.
“Oh dear, those little hands are freezing.
I’ll light the fire right away.”
I sat Lucy down on the bed in the guest room.
The room smelled faintly dusty, but sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the old wooden floor.
I held my hand toward the fireplace and searched for the lingering heat.
Old houses had habits when it came to warmth.
Where the cold seeped in from.
Which walls leaked heat.
Which stones remembered the warmth of the daytime sun.
My magic could read those things.
I could not summon grand flames.
I could not heal wounds.
But I could slowly return warmth to chilled fingertips.
“Lucy, is it cold here?”
Still clutching her stuffed rabbit, my daughter shook her head.
“It’s not cold.”
“That’s good.”
“Mommy, is this Lucy’s room?”
“Yes.
For a while, this will be Lucy’s room from now on.”
Lucy looked around the room.
Beyond the glass windows stood shelves of withering medicinal herbs.
There were not many flowers in winter, but several tiny white blossoms remained deep inside the greenhouse.
“Are those flowers?”
“They’re Winter Bellflowers.
Flowers that bloom even during the cold season.”
“Are they strong?”
“Yes.
They’re small, but very strong flowers.”
Lucy smiled just a little.
Seeing that smile alone made the tension slowly leave my chest.
Nothing had been resolved yet.
The divorce mediation was only beginning.
Gilbert might try to claim custody of Lucy.
The servants of the marquis house might spread rumors about me.
Society would probably whisper that I was “a jealous wife who abandoned the house because of her husband’s sickly childhood friend.”
Even so, Lucy had just said this room was not cold.
That alone made leaving worthwhile.
For lunch, Martha prepared a soup of softly stewed vegetables and chicken.
At first Lucy hesitated at the unfamiliar dishes, but after watching me take a bite, she cautiously gripped her spoon.
“It’s yummy.”
“I’m glad.”
“Mommy, eat too.”
“I am eating.”
“More.”
Prompted by my daughter, I took another spoonful of soup.
It was warm.
It was only soup, and yet with every swallow, the tightness inside my body gradually unraveled.
Back at the marquis house, I had always been too busy worrying about Lucy’s meals and medicine schedules to even notice what I myself was eating.
Meals were allowed to be enjoyed quietly like this.
Lucy fell asleep shortly after lunch.
She must have been exhausted after all.
The moment she lay down on the bed, still hugging her stuffed rabbit, she drifted off almost instantly.
I sat there for a while watching her sleeping face.
Her tiny chest rose and fell steadily.
Only after confirming that did I leave the room.
In the hallway, Hannah informed me of a visitor.
“Milady.
Margrave Arnold Rankiere has arrived.”
“Margrave Rankiere?”
I knew the name.
He was a young margrave responsible for the northern border and also served as a temporary inspector for the Royal Capital Court.
Before his death, my father had once described him as a trustworthy young man.
When I entered the reception room, a tall man was waiting there.
He had dark brown hair and gray-green eyes like a winter forest.
His build was that of a soldier, but his demeanor was calm.
When he saw me, he bowed deeply.
“My apologies for arriving without notice, Marchioness Noelia Leivelt.”
“For now, I suppose that is still the name I must answer to.”
“Then, Lady Noelia.”
He corrected himself.
It was such a small thing, and yet it surprised me a little.
No matter what I disliked, Gilbert had never changed the way he addressed me.
His attitude had always been that such things were natural because I was his wife.
“I have reviewed the petition for separation submitted to the Royal Capital Court.
As this case concerns the recuperation environment of a young child, I have come to verify the temporary protection arrangements.”
“That was quick.”
“Your older brother also contacted me.
His message was written with considerable urgency.”
That certainly sounded like my brother.
I let out a quiet breath.
“My daughter is sleeping.
If an examination is necessary, I will wake her.”
“If she is sleeping, it would be better not to wake her.”
Arnold answered immediately.
I looked at him in surprise again.
He continued calmly.
“A child who has just gone through relocation needs rest.
The examination can wait until she wakes up.
The physician accompanying me would make the same judgment.”
“…Thank you.”
“That is only natural.”
Natural.
Hearing that made my chest tighten slightly.
Lowering one’s voice while a child sleeps.
Not waking a sick child.
Adding blankets for a child who feels cold.
Those things should never have been considered extraordinary kindness.
They should have been natural.
“If the marquis house demands that I return, can I refuse?”
“As long as you possess the medical certificates and treatment records, protection of the mother and child will take priority until mediation begins.”
Arnold placed documents onto the table.
“However, the marquis house may accuse you of malicious separation.
Because of that, we will need records of the renovations to the south wing recuperation room, Lady Lucy’s fever logs, records of medicine purchases, and witnesses who heard yesterday’s conversation.”
“For witnesses, there is my maid Hannah and two serving attendants.”
“That will be sufficient.”
“In addition, the recuperation room in the south wing was funded with my dowry.
I have the renovation receipts as well.”
For just a moment, Arnold narrowed his eyes with what looked like admiration.
“You prepared quickly.”
“When leaving with a child, paperwork comes before tears.”
“That was the correct decision.”
He said it simply.
It took me a moment to realize I had just been praised.
Gilbert had hated how meticulous I was.
Keeping strict medicine schedules.
Recording room temperatures.
Preserving receipts.
He called all of it “neurotic.”
But being neurotic was fine.
If those records could protect Lucy.
At that moment, small footsteps echoed from the hallway.
“Mommy…?”
Still half-asleep, Lucy stood at the entrance to the reception room with Hannah beside her.
Her hair was messy, and she held her stuffed rabbit tightly.
I immediately stood.
“You’re awake.
Are you cold?”
“I’m not cold.”
Lucy walked to my side, then looked up at Arnold.
Perhaps nervous around an unfamiliar man, she grabbed the hem of my skirt.
Arnold lowered himself onto one knee.
An adult man lowering himself to meet the eyes of a three-year-old child.
The movement was so natural that it surprised me again.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Lucy.
My name is Arnold.”
“Arnold?”
“If it is difficult to say, you may simply call me Al.”
Lucy thought for a moment.
“Lord Al.”
“Yes.”
Arnold nodded seriously.
“I came to help make sure you and your mother can rest in a warm room.”
Lucy looked up at me.
“Is this person a good person?”
“For now.”
When I answered that way, Arnold gave a small cough.
Perhaps he was suppressing a laugh.
Lucy adjusted her stuffed rabbit in her arms and gave Arnold a tiny bow.
“Thank you for the room.”
“You are very welcome.”
He replied very quietly.
That evening, the first messenger from the marquis house arrived.
The letter contained Gilbert’s rigid handwriting.
[Lilia’s condition has worsened.
Your magic is necessary.
I will reconsider the matter of Lucy’s room.
Return at once.]
I read the letter and remained silent for a while.
In the next room, Lucy was looking at Winter Bellflowers together with Martha.
I could hear her laughing.
The daughter who had trembled in fear at the marquis house only this morning was already laughing again.
That was my answer.
“Will you send a reply?”
When Hannah asked, I nodded.
“Yes.”
I took out fresh stationery and wrote briefly.
[Lucy is asleep, so I will refrain from giving a response today.
Please request a physician to examine Lady Lilia.]
After finishing, I added one more line.
[I did not leave to protect my daughter’s room.
I left to protect my daughter’s life.]
I sealed the letter and handed it to the messenger.
Outside, the air had grown colder.
But inside the old greenhouse estate, it was warm.
The fireplace crackled quietly, and Lucy’s laughter echoed through the halls.
For the first time, I took a truly deep breath.
I would never return.
Not to be loved by my husband, but to live alongside my daughter.
That night, at the Leivelt marquis estate, the temperature in the recuperation room of the south wing suddenly dropped.
The fireplace was burning.
The heat-retaining stones were in place.
And yet cold seeped through the room from the corners, spreading slowly outward.
Lilia turned pale and piled more blankets around herself.
The servants frantically summoned magicians, but none could determine the cause.
Because the thing that had truly kept that room warm was neither the stones nor the fireplace.
It had been me, reading the chill in the walls every morning and night, adjusting the warmth of the windows, and continuously weaving magic while listening to my daughter’s sleeping breaths.
It would still be some time before Gilbert realized that.