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“Why not write a letter of recommendation before letting them go? Even if it isn't a proper one, at least something formal...”
At Rose's question, a subtle expression crossed the head butler's face.
“My lady. We are employees.”
His firm tone sounded, at a glance, as if he were pitying her, or perhaps lecturing her.
“With all due respect, I believe there is no room for leniency when it comes to such a mistake.”
“I see...”
“Otherwise, the name Crawford would be looked upon with contempt.”
“Did things like this happen before I arrived?”
“It is my failing that I have caused you such concern.”
The head butler deflected the question, but that in itself was an answer.
Such things likely never happened when the Duchess of Crawford was not a foreigner.
Rose recalled the faces of the employees—those who had always taken immense pride in working at this estate and were beyond diligent.
However, she soon cleared her mind and tried not to dwell on it. She didn't want to spend today feeling depressed over such matters.
Thinking she might be late for her appointment due to the commotion, she hurried to the famous fountain on Caliburn Street, but Ben was nowhere to be seen.
Only after the minute hand of the clock tower had made half a rotation did someone approach Rose, who was sitting alone on the fountain bench.
However, it wasn't the Ben she had been waiting for, but Marcel Garnier.
“Ben sent word. He thought you'd be waiting alone and asked me to go to you.”
Marcel explained the situation with a troubled look to the bewildered Rose.
“He said his teacher called him urgently, so he couldn't make it. He asked me to tell you he's sorry.”
Ah.
Now, she could no longer deny the depression settling in her heart.
Seeing Rose like that, Marcel's expression quickly turned to one of pity. He reached into the hand he had been keeping behind his back and handed her a small bouquet of flowers.
“Today is your birthday, isn't it?”
And then, he smiled tenderly, just as he used to.
“Happy birthday, Rose.”
“...Thank you.”
Feeling as though she might burst into tears like a fool, Rose cleared her throat a few times while holding the bouquet.
“Ben felt bad about leaving you alone, so he asked me to stay with you. I heard you were originally planning to see the Royal Orchestra performance?”
“Yes, that was the plan, but...”
“How about going with me? I know quite a few people in the orchestra.”
Rose pondered for a moment and then shook her head.
“Thank you for the offer, Teacher. But I think it would be better for me to just return to the estate.”
She wanted to see the performance, but she worried that going alone with Marcel would invite unnecessary gossip.
“Still, it's your birthday... Does Duke Crawford know?”
Ray Crawford had likely seen her birth documents, but she doubted he paid much attention to or remembered her birthday.
“Surely he didn't forget to mention it?”
“I didn't think it was necessary to bring up. It's not a particularly special day.”
“Even so...”
Marcel clicked his tongue.
“Then why don't you come with me to the Duke of Harland's estate? Actually, I've been invited to a party there. What would you do staying alone at the estate on a day like this?”
“The Duke of Harland's estate?”
The Duke of Harland was Sophia Greenwood's father.
Surprised by the sudden proposal, Rose asked for clarification, and Marcel seemed surprised by her reaction.
“You didn't know? The second son of the Countess of Greenwood is having a birthday, so they're throwing a grand party at the capital estate today.”
If Sophia were hosting a party, Agatha or Ray would have likely mentioned it, but Rose knew nothing of it.
No wonder Agatha and Beth had left together in the carriage today.
She had assumed they simply had business to attend to; she hadn't realized they were going to Sophia's party.
“I was wondering why you'd make plans with Ben when you'd likely be attending that party anyway. Did Duke Crawford not tell you anything?”
“If he didn't tell me, he must have had a reason. It's better that I don't go.”
Her already foul mood sank even further, but Rose struggled to hide it and answered calmly.
Every Crawford except her was attending the birthday party of Sophia's child—someone Rose barely even knew.
On her own birthday.
It wasn't exactly a pleasant situation, but the sheer irony of it was almost comical.
“Don't just stand there; come with me. There are plenty of couples who arrive late or separately. It'll be no big deal. No one will notice.”
“No. There's no need for that. And Teacher, if you meet those people, please don't mention my birthday. It's easier if they don't know.”
At Rose's adamant refusal, Marcel let out a long sigh.
“Then at least let me give you a ride back to the Crawford estate.”
“...Thank you.”
Lacking the strength to refuse further, Rose finally nodded.
Fiddling with the bouquet inside the carriage, Rose tried her best to treat all of this as nothing.
It was a birthday that came every year anyway, and since she was already twenty-six, she told herself she was past the age of clinging to such things.
Though she had spent days looking forward to a relaxing time with Ben, perhaps there would be another opportunity someday.
Glancing at the silent Rose, Marcel spoke cautiously.
“There's something I've wanted to ask you for a long time... but you seemed so unfazed.”
“Pardon?”
“Did you resent me a lot? For not supporting you?”
Rose was momentarily flustered by the mention of the past, a topic they hadn't properly addressed since their reunion.
Because Marcel had smiled at her as tenderly as before when they met again, she hadn't thought he believed she held a grudge.
“No matter how angry you were, I didn't expect you to go without answering me for so long. Even when I sent letters repeatedly, you never replied.”
“I was like that at first,” Rose answered honestly, hesitating.
“Because I thought you would at least tell me what I was lacking. I didn't know you would tell me to give up so bluntly.”
It was true that because he was the person she trusted most, her disappointment and sorrow had been immense.
“But later... I was too embarrassed to write back.”
“What on earth were you embarrassed about?”
“You were right, Teacher. It was true that I lacked talent, and it felt ridiculous that I had been so angry without realizing that.”
Rose gave a weak smile.
“I was embarrassed by that. I was the one being mean. I should have told you sooner... I'm sorry.”
Marcel wore a strange expression at those words.
His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he closed them again.
“Still, I was surprised that when we met again, you didn't criticize me for it.”
“...You had every right to feel hurt.”
“Well, you never once scolded me since I was a child.”
“Rose, you were the kind of child who would practice a hundred times if I told you to do it twenty. Any teacher who scolds a child like that would be a madman.”
Rose laughed softly at Marcel's serious tone. The word 'madman' didn't suit the teacher's voice at all.
“Perhaps you should have scolded me a bit. You pampered me so much that I actually thought I was doing well.”
“You truly had a gift for the piano. I hope you don't deny that much.”
Rose smiled again at the past tense of the sentence.
If talent were something that didn't vanish entirely but left behind some small trace, that would have been nice.
After her wrist began to ache, it felt as though the time she had loved had returned to nothingness. Leaving nothing behind.
“Were you sincere about composing?”
“I'm not sure,” Rose answered simply to Marcel's quiet question.
“I think... there was something I wanted to say back then.”
Now, she couldn't even remember what kind of piece she had intended to write.
“...Is it very difficult for you at the Crawfords'?”
“It's a position far beyond my merit.”
As she answered, Rose felt a change in herself.
She could now utter those words—the fact that she was insufficient for the Crawfords—without any hesitation.
“Still, I believe that if you endure it, that position will eventually be good for you.”
Marcel continued in a serious tone.
“Duke Ray Crawford has a greater influence on this country than you might think. All Orturans admire him. I believe there are things you can achieve by his side.”
Rose thought it was far too idealistic, considering she didn't even know if Ray Crawford recognized her as a true wife.
The kiss in the drawing room had surely meant nothing.
“My father became a renowned wealthy man in this country, but did anything change? People here hate Boltonians even more the more they stand out.”
“A businessman and a politician are different, Rose,” Marcel countered with an uncharacteristic firmness.
“And you aren't the type to give up easily.”
In Marcel's eyes, Rose still seemed like the child who would play the same piece hundreds of times.
“You may hate your father, but I think you resemble him in that regard.”
Indeed, her father was a man who didn't know the meaning of giving up, to a point that was almost exhausting.
“It might be improper to say this... but honestly, your mother wasn't that kind of person.”
“That's true.”
Agreeing readily, Rose met Marcel's eyes and eventually laughed. Following her lead, Marcel let out a small chuckle.
No one knew better than Marcel how much of a fragile, princess-like person Rose's mother had been.
Conversation and jokes with someone who shared a long history were certainly comfortable and easy. They also evoked a sense of longing.
Before they knew it, the carriage had reached the Crawford estate.
“Teacher, thank you. For everything.”
Stepping out of the carriage with Marcel's escort, Rose offered her sincere gratitude.
Thanks to the honest conversation with him, she had been able to forget her depression for a little while.
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