Chapter 11
Tilbury, quiet until now, became noisy in an instant.
It was because of the rumors about the new family member who had come to the Veila mansion—Madame Mezen’s young nephew, “Mr. Frantes.”
The commotion Mr. Frantes caused at the café on the very first day set the sleepy country town ablaze.
Once word spread that the rake, Baron Eclobe, couldn’t even straighten his back before him, speculation flared that Mr. Frantes was a great noble from the capital. Along with that, the old rumor that Madame Mezen herself was a noble resurfaced.
Most shocking of all to the townsfolk was the news that gentle Lunaria had declared a dissolution of engagement to her fiancé Jakoran in that very situation.
Until then, they had pitied Lunaria and condemned the unfaithful Jakoran.
But pity is often a feeling born to taste superiority over someone worse off than oneself.
No one truly stood for Lunaria from the heart.
The townspeople busied themselves spinning tales that Lunaria must be having an affair with Mr. Frantes.
They said she had seduced Jakoran to escape her meager lot, and when a capital noble appeared, she immediately jumped ship—unwilling to be satisfied with a country noble.
Jakoran, they argued, had perhaps had a passing infatuation with Lobelia, but hadn’t he, in the end, kept the engagement with Lunaria?
In a single moment, he became the victim—the loyal fiancé betrayed.
This reaction doesn’t even surprise me.
Circumstances had always turned against Lunaria. People saying whatever pleased them was nothing new to her.
Be that as it may, Lunaria spent her days diligently at the Veila mansion, assuming Jakoran would soon lose his temper and grant the annulment.
There was only one thing that nagged at her.
Why aren’t they contacting me?
Her stepmother and Lobelia were suspiciously quiet.
If they were to live without Lunaria, even getting meals would be a hurdle. They didn’t know how to cook, nor even where the tableware was kept.
Perhaps they would act only once the loss of the money she provided truly hit home.
I shouldn’t worry about it.
They were no longer people who had anything to do with her.
In the span of a few days, a lawyer visited the Veila mansion.
It seemed Madame Mezen, facing death, had finalized revisions to her will.
Emily and Randolph entered Madame Mezen’s room to serve as witnesses.
After the lawyer left, Frantes said he would be staying at the mansion for two months.
Two months—the time Madame Mezen had left to live.
For a moment, Lunaria wondered if she ought to tell him.
But she decided she, not family and with Madame Mezen herself having said nothing, shouldn’t speak out of turn—and kept silent.
Invitations to parties, teas, and dinners poured in for the handsome, mysterious gentleman, Mr. Frantes.
The brief glimpses of his looks were overwhelming—nothing like anything seen in Tilbury.
No amount of exaggeration could keep up with the rumors.
Jakoran had been considered a notable face in these parts, yet next to Frantes his light dimmed.
The townspeople criticized Lunaria while being endlessly curious about Frantes.
As for Frantes himself, he lounged half-reclined on the parlor sofa, face buried, bored out of his mind.
He didn’t even open the stack of invitations.
At such times, Lunaria would ask:
“Are you not going to any parties?”
“I will, if I can go with Miss Luna.”
Frantes continued to use that subtle pet name.
“Then it seems you won’t be going until you depart.”
Even against Lunaria’s ironclad defense, Frantes only smiled, as if in good humor. It was only Randolph, watching from the side, who looked bewildered.
Since she had come to live at the Veila mansion, Lunaria worked harder than before.
She cleaned at dawn so as not to disturb the household, and even in the daytime, once she finished her tasks, she searched for work that didn’t exist and made it.
She devoted herself to caring for Madame Mezen.
The table was laid with various dishes to which she gave all her heart, and in resting hours she tried to visit the lady’s room to keep her company or read to her.
But in truth, Madame Mezen repeatedly sent Lunaria away, saying she had her own business and no time to entertain her.
And so, today again, Lunaria sat idly in a parlor chair.
It was afternoon after lunch; she had finished the cleaning and chores at dawn, and completed preparations for dinner early.
Even when she tried to find work to do, there was none left—it was difficult.
Is it really all right to be this idle?
She simply couldn’t get used to it.
In Tilbury, her days had always spun breathlessly—working while looking after her family, tending to her fiancé.
Unlike the fidgety Lunaria, Frantes and Randolph looked terribly bored where they sat on the sofa.
Lunaria fetched a book from the library and began to read.
In the quiet parlor, the soft whisper of turning pages drifted.
“What are you reading?”
Frantes came over.
Folding his long legs, he knelt on one knee, leaned his arm on the chair armrest where Lunaria sat, and propped his face on his hand.
His blue eyes, as bright as the weather outside, looked up at her. Long lashes fluttered like a butterfly.
On one knee…
What flustered Lunaria wasn’t how close he was, but that the grand duke’s son would kneel so lightly.
“The Autobiography of Amanta Rotmeria.”
Frantes’ smile twitched.
She hadn’t chosen it on purpose. Picking a book from the Rotmeria family library, her hand had unconsciously stopped at the familiar name.
“I wondered what a great mage thought and how he lived.”
Lunaria added, thinking it odd she was offering an explanation at all.
“Do you like mages, Miss Luna?”
“I think they’re admirable—after all, it’s not a talent granted to ordinary people.
There aren’t many mages in the capital, right? Do you have a mage acquaintance, Mr. Frantes?”
“Ah… I do, but he’s rather unimpressive.”
Frantes made a queasy face, as if someone had come to mind. A mage of House Rotmeria, perhaps?
“Are there mages in Tilbury as well?”
Frantes asked.
“You’re being rude again,” Randolph scolded him.
“No, not rude at all, Mr. Randolph. It’s fine. I’ve seen one at parties a few times.”
At noble parties, she had occasionally seen mages stirring the mood with showy magic.
But when she had gone out into the world in her past life, she realized Tilbury’s mages weren’t particularly skilled.
Even the boy mage who lived upstairs from the last place she stayed after leaving Tilbury had possessed remarkable ability.
I miss him.
The little magic tricks he performed like a child showing off had been Lunaria’s only delight. She wondered how he was after her death—
she only hoped he hadn’t been too shocked at the sight of her body.
“Then what do you do to pass the time at Tilbury’s parties, Miss Lunaria?”
Randolph posed a question.
“That sounds ruder,” Frantes muttered.
“That’s not rude either, Mr. Frantes.
It’s the same as parties in the capital:
enjoy a banquet, move to the hall to dance, move again to play the piano or sing, and play cards.”
Lunaria smiled faintly.
“Ah, predictable. Equally dull, then.”
“Yes. Dull.”
“Miss Lunaria, is that piano usable?”
Randolph pointed to the obsidian-colored piano placed in the middle of the parlor.
“It will be, with a tuning.”
Lunaria set her book on the chair she’d been sitting in and walked to the piano. Frantes trailed after her like a puppy.
Randolph held back the question “Do you know how to tune it?”—he suspected Frantes would scold him if he asked.
Lunaria opened the lid and touched this and that. Because she’d always kept it meticulously clean, even the interior shone.
Frantes watched, absorbed, as Lunaria’s slender fingers moved here and there.
When she more or less finished the tuning, Lunaria closed the lid again.
“There.”
“Do you know how to play?”
As she reached to shut the fallboard, Frantes stopped her hand. Their hands overlapped.
“A little.”
“Won’t you play for us?”
There was a hint of coyness in Frantes’ voice—the tone he sometimes used with Madame Mezen.
“I’m not good enough to perform.”
“I want to see you play, Miss Luna.”
There was no way she’d be unskilled—she’d just tuned it beautifully. Frantes teased her gently.
“Yes, Miss Lunaria—please play. I truly want to hear it.”
Randolph’s eyes lit up; bored to death moments before, he calculated that a piano performance would make the time pass quickly.
Lunaria hesitated, then laid both hands on the keys.
“Then… even if it’s a mess, please pretend you didn’t notice.”
“An excellent decision!”
Randolph clapped his hands.
Lunaria drew a deep breath.
Will my body remember? It’s been so very long since I last played.
She couldn’t recall exactly when that had been.
Gently, she pressed a white key. Delicate notes floated into the air from the newly tuned piano.
Her worries were needless—her fingers moved fluidly, dancing over the keys. Randolph, listening with no particular expectations, let his jaw drop.
Frantes could not take his eyes off Lunaria’s face.
A look he had never seen on her before—
the face of a girl whose vitality had returned upon reclaiming something precious lost long ago.
He was a wandering adventurer from the city, and she, a musical fairy he encountered in the forest.
A few strands of clean, golden hair slipped down over her intent face.
He longed to reach out and tuck them behind an ear as perfectly sculpted as a carved piece of art.
Lunaria was so happy that her lips parted as if on a flowing breath. Heavenly sound rose up her throat.
To the beautiful piano melody, song spread through the parlor.
When the performance ended, suddenly shame tightened around Lunaria’s whole body.
Foolish, foolish. No one even asked you to sing, and you got excited and did as you pleased.
Face flushed, she hurried to close the fallboard.
“Bravo! Bravo!”
Randolph clapped vigorously and cheered.
Frantes was still staring at Lunaria, utterly spellbound.
Lunaria, head bowed, did not notice.
“Miss Luna, you knew how to play the piano?”
Emily—who had just returned from an outing—stood there, staring blankly.
From the other side, a gentle elder voice drifted in.
“A splendid performance. A fine spectacle as well. It was worth keeping that space-taking piano—on many counts.”
Madame Mezen had come to the parlor and listened too.
“My playing is terrible, isn’t it?”
Lunaria rose from her seat, trying to slip away.
“Miss Lunaria.”
Frantes called to her softly.
“Yes?”
“May I beg one more piece?”
With eyes shining brilliantly and intensely, Frantes smiled wide.
It was such a kind request that Lunaria could not refuse.
