.jpg)
“You look a lot like Beth.”
“A lot? Not just a lot, she's the spitting image of her.”
Agatha snorted as she looked at the portrait.
“Do you think it's just the face? Her personality is the same. Whenever he was bored, he would coax the child, saying that since the sons all took after their father, the daughters had to take after him for it to be fair.”
Rose was momentarily taken aback by the way Agatha spoke, as if she had been waiting for someone to listen. It was an attitude that suggested she had been longing for an audience.
“Beth probably grew up that way because of the 'orders' he gave. She grew up exactly like her father.”
Yet, Rose clearly saw the vivid longing lingering at the end of that complaint.
“But Beth grew up to be kind and intelligent.”
Despite the praise for her daughter, Agatha looked more worried than pleased.
“Yes, that child is truly affectionate... It's a pity this man didn't get to see her like that. He would have been so happy if he had.”
Agatha, who had been staring silently at the portrait, seemed to snap back to her senses and cleared her throat with an embarrassed expression.
“What on earth am I talking about. You really make people act strange.”
Her transition from rambling on her own to blaming someone else was so natural that Rose couldn't even bring herself to argue.
Thinking about it now, the age difference between Ray and Beth was rare even in Orturan. There was a sixteen-year gap. Had the couple been that close?
The idea of Agatha being in a loving relationship was completely unimaginable, but her current demeanor was certainly unusual.
“Why did you volunteer as a nurse back then? Before Beth was born.”
“I told you. If you are born with something, there are things you must prove in return.”
“Did you really need to go all the way to the front lines? Beth mentioned that people found it puzzling.”
“That girl, really... she's going around saying such unnecessary things again.”
Judging by Agatha's reaction, Rose felt sorry for Beth, imagining the lecture she would receive the moment she left the room.
“Whether other people thought that or not, it's none of my concern. I am a Crawford. In the end, they all would have respected me.”
The firm tone and attitude, as if that were enough, felt very familiar. Seeing her like this, it wouldn't have been surprising if she had gone just to prove the name Crawford.
However, something continued to nag at her.
“...By any chance, was the previous Duke at the front?”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
The answer came the instant the question ended. It sounded almost hasty.
That very attitude made it seem as though it were very much related.
An awkward silence fell between the two for a moment, and Rose absentmindedly rubbed her wrist while glancing at the man in the portrait.
It pained her to think that someone who looked so warm had suffered so much.
“Um, Agatha. I heard from Ray. That he was very ill toward the end.”
After agonizing for a while, Rose gathered her courage and spoke.
There was something she had wanted to ask Agatha whenever the opportunity arose.
Ray seemed to believe that his father had chosen death of his own volition, and that thought seemed to weigh heavily on his heart.
Rose had brought it up hoping Agatha might know the details of the situation, but the moment she saw Agatha's face, she realized she could never ask that question.
“Ray told you?”
Agatha whispered in a voice that was barely audible.
“Everything? Even where he was ill?”
Agatha's face turned pale so quickly that she looked as if she were the one who was sick. Startled by the reaction, Rose looked at her with concern.
“I know how to keep a secret. I haven't told anyone, and I don't intend to tell Beth.”
“No, no. That's not it. I've never doubted you in that regard.”
Agatha muttered, rubbing her face with a long sigh.
“I told you. I think you have discernment. I trust you.”
Clutching a dishcloth that didn't suit her at all, Agatha whispered.
“No matter... what Ray says?”
Her voice was so low that it was hard to hear even though she was standing right in front of her.
“Hmm. He seemed to be troubled by it.”
Even though she had filtered her words, Agatha was visibly shaken. Rose had never imagined that someone who seemed so steadfast could show such a side.
“Let's go out for now, Agatha. You should sit down somewhere.”
Agatha, who allowed herself to be led by Rose, only seemed to regain her composure in front of the prayer room door, where she refused further assistance.
“No, it's alright. I'm fine now. I can walk on my own.”
Though it didn't seem entirely convincing, Rose let her go.
After taking a few deep breaths in front of the door, Agatha's color returned, and she looked quietly at Rose.
“You too...”
Hesitating, she asked softly.
“Do you... do you hate me, or Ray? Do we make things too difficult for you?”
Strangely, the question didn't feel like it was directed at Rose.
Rose felt she knew who the question was actually meant for.
“It is a bit difficult,” Rose answered honestly, looking into the blue eyes that so closely resembled Ray's.
“There are times when I just can't understand.”
Upon hearing this, Agatha's jaw tightened.
It was surprising to see such a reaction from someone who seemed like she wouldn't care about others' opinions at all.
“But that's the same for you, Agatha. You probably don't understand me very well either.”
Even after discovering that the woman before her had brought her here to drag her into the mud, Rose hadn't grown to hate her that much.
After all, she knew that Agatha was striving to protect the Crawfords, and that since Rose had become part of the family, she was trying to protect Rose in her own way.
“I don't hate you. I know you're doing your best.”
When Rose gave a bright smile after finishing her sentence, Agatha let out a short, dry laugh.
Seeing that she truly seemed to be okay, Rose felt relieved and opened the door.
The two women walked down the hallway in silence and parted at the stairs.
“Rose.”
As Rose was about to head upstairs, a quiet voice called her from behind.
Turning around, she saw Agatha, who had been descending the stairs, stop and look up at her.
“Have a good tour. Be careful.”
A cautious greeting flowed from the matriarch of the Crawfords, who had hesitated for a moment.
As if feeling awkward with her own behavior, she descended the stairs without waiting for an answer, holding the hem of her skirt. Her posture remained rigid.
As she climbed the stairs, Rose thought about the commonality between the Crawford mother and son. People who were incredibly steadfast and hated weakness.
Unlike Rose, who tended to worry more when she saw someone's vulnerability, they loathed it. Was that a sign of strength?
However, the deceased Duke had left a wound in those people—a wound they weren't even conscious of.
The fact that he could leave a wound meant that there had been love for him in their hearts.
Should she find hope in that?
“It's so different from the things you composed before. Back then, there were many pastoral pieces. Now...”
She recalled the words Marcel had said while looking at the music she had written.
“Rose. Do you like Duke Crawford very much?”
She wondered why she had been so shocked by such a plain question.
When a fact she hadn't yet admitted to herself was voiced by another, she had been startled as if a great secret had been uncovered, or as if she had committed a crime, unable to answer properly.
The teacher's face had gradually grown complicated as he watched her, unable to give any answer.
Did Marcel also think she harbored a hopeless affection?
No, Rose comforted herself, believing that Ray must surely have feelings for her beyond mere liking.
Recalling the way he looked at her, and the smile he wore when he saw her.
* * *
Toland, one of the two largest cities in northern Orturan and famous for its textile factories, was certainly colder than the capital, Oakley.
Even though it was the end of winter, Rose had to wear a shawl while eating breakfast at the Crawford villa in Toland.
The thought of having to introduce herself to the servants here felt burdensome, but perhaps because they were experienced, they showed no particular reaction upon seeing Rose.
At most, they gave her a fleeting glance.
“Is that all you're eating?”
Rose, who had been reading various morning newspapers delivered to the table, looked up at the voice coming from across from her.
Ray was looking at the food remaining on her plate with a dissatisfied expression.
“I'm full.”
“You left nearly half of the meat earlier, too.”
“It wasn't that much. I just left a few pieces.”
In fact, her appetite had increased since she started the tour. Because of the amount of activity, she got hungry faster than usual.
“You won't be able to get through the schedule eating that little. Is there something you don't like?”
“No, it's not that. I'm really just full.”
Rose glanced at the butler standing by to attend to the meal.
She couldn't bring herself to say in front of the employee that the Orturan food tasted so bland that she couldn't eat much of it.
Since arriving here, Rose had eaten only enough to keep her from being hungry. No matter what she ate, it always felt lacking. Not in quantity, but in quality.
Ray didn't seem to believe her. He was a man who could detect a lie with uncanny precision.
Because Ray continued to look at her with a mixture of suspicion and displeasure until they went to the carriage, she eventually had to confess the truth.
.jpg)