Chapter 4: The Cold Night at the Marquis House
On the night Noelia left the mansion, the south wing of the Leivelt marquis estate was far noisier than usual.
Gilbert sat in his study pretending to read reports.
The words entered his eyes.
But not a single line stayed in his mind.
At the edge of his desk lay the short letter Noelia had sent back.
[I did not leave to protect my daughter’s room.
I left to protect my daughter’s life.]
That sentence was infuriatingly calm.
There was no room to shout back at it.
It was neither a complaint nor a grudge.
It was written as plainly as testimony submitted to a court.
“My lord.”
The steward Bolk spoke from outside the door.
“Lady Lilia says she feels cold again.
We summoned a magician, but he says there is nothing wrong with the heat-retaining stones.”
“Light the fireplace.”
“We have already added more firewood.”
“Then use more blankets.”
“She is already using three layers.”
Gilbert clicked his tongue irritably.
The recuperation room in the south wing was a room Noelia had created.
For a moment, he wondered if that woman had done something to it.
But he immediately dismissed the thought.
Noelia was not the sort of woman who would resort to petty sabotage.
The fact that he knew that irritated him further.
When he headed toward the recuperation room, heat already drifted through the hallway.
Because the fireplace was being overfed, the air had grown dry, and even the water in the vases by the walls had become lukewarm.
And yet Lilia remained curled beneath blankets on the bed, her face pale.
“Gil…”
She called to him weakly.
“I’m cold.
I wonder why.
When Lady Noelia was here, it never felt this cold.”
The moment Lilia spoke that name, Gilbert felt as though something had lightly struck the inside of his chest.
“What does the physician say?”
“He says it’s probably fatigue from the long journey.
But with Lady Noelia’s magic, I’m sure I would feel better right away.”
Lilia lowered her eyes.
“This is my fault.
Because of me, milady and Lady Lucy left.”
“It is not your fault.
Noelia merely became emotional and acted recklessly.”
The instant he said it, someone in the hallway sharply inhaled.
When Gilbert turned, he saw a young serving attendant lowering his eyes.
It was the same attendant who had been present in the dining hall yesterday morning.
Gilbert felt displeased.
Were even the servants taking Noelia’s side?
She had always been like that.
She never stood out in particular, yet before anyone noticed, people were listening to her.
Medicine schedules.
Fireplace temperatures.
Meal preparations.
How bedding should be dried.
She established one tiny rule after another until nobody could object.
A neurotic, tedious woman obsessed with details.
That was what he had thought.
And yet the moment she disappeared, the atmosphere of the mansion fell apart.
“My lord, soot is falling from the flue in the guest room of the north wing.”
“My lord, we cannot find the blending records for the herbal tea.”
“My lord, Lady Lucy’s meal attendant says she does not know how to prepare recuperation meals…”
“Lucy is no longer here.”
The moment he answered, Gilbert was startled by the sound of his own voice.
Gone.
Lucy was no longer in this mansion.
The image of his daughter reaching out her tiny hand surfaced in his mind.
That morning in the recuperation room, she had been clutching her stuffed rabbit while looking at him.
Had she been trying to say something?
Gilbert had never looked at her hand.
He had been looking at Noelia’s documents.
Steward Bolk cleared his throat.
“My lord, by tomorrow we should send an official letter of protest to House Weiss.
If a wife leaves without her husband’s permission and takes the child with her, then the other party is also at fault.”
“That’s right.”
Gilbert nodded.
Yes.
This was abduction.
His wife had ignored her husband’s authority.
She had disrupted the order of the marquis house.
That was what needed to be corrected first.
Thinking that way made it slightly easier to breathe.
But outside the windows, snow had begun to fall.
The fireplace in the recuperation room of the south wing burned brightly.
And yet cold still lingered in the corners of the room.
Every time Lilia shivered, Gilbert remembered Noelia’s letter.
Protect my daughter’s life.
That was what she had written.
Gilbert still did not understand why those words felt as though they were accusing him.