Chapter 42
“Miss Typewriter”
Lily was enjoying a rare day off, thanks to Cecil Hobart’s absence.
The maids had been whispering about her—treating her like some exhibit in a zoo because she had been the object of Timothy Rutland’s unrequited love. So during her leave, Lily decided to stay somewhere in the city instead of the hotel.
She stood on Crossus Street, glancing around in search of a shop.
Ding—
From the outside, it looked like an ordinary typewriter shop. The glass window was so dusty it hadn’t been cleaned in ages.
Is this really the place?
“I know a famous expert in Londinium.”
She had come all this way because of his words, but she felt doubtful.
It did say “Handwriting Analysis Institute,” but instead of a laboratory, it looked like a typewriter store.
After hesitating, Lily pushed the door open.
Inside, she was greeted by a woman with a large puffed hairstyle—the same woman she had once seen at the exhibition.
“Welcome! Would you like to see the latest typewriters? Old models are half price! We also buy broken ones and repair them. Ink ribbons are sold in bundles of ten. How can I help you?”
The woman rattled off the long sentence without even taking a breath.
“Um… I came because I heard you do handwriting analysis. I must have the wrong place.”
Embarrassed, Lily turned back toward the door.
“Oh, you’re here for handwriting analysis? You’re in the right place! My mom is the director.”
Lily peered inside suspiciously.
In one corner was a small sign:
[Handwriting Analysis — Even letters leave fingerprints.]
As Lily slowly read it, an old woman wearing a monocle with a magnifier attached banged on the desk.
“Over here!”
The old woman beckoned gruffly.
Startled, Lily hurried over.
“H-hello… ma’am. I’d like to have this letter analyzed.”
As Lily handed over the paper, the old woman slammed the desk again.
“Ma’am? You call me that and expect me to do your analysis?”
“Ah—sorry! I mean… analyst?”
“Hmph. An old letter. What for? Legal dispute? Or…”
“My parents wrote it. I think… it was sent when they entrusted me to someone. I’d like to find even the smallest clue.”
“Fine. I’ll squeeze everything I can out of it.”
The energetic old woman rolled up her sleeves.
“Wait here. It’s a simple document—easy to compare.”
Lily sat on a small triangular stool, hands neatly folded on her lap.
She placed the letter beside her and began scribbling something on another sheet of paper.
As time passed, curiosity got the better of her, and she kept glancing toward the desk.
The room filled only with scratching sounds and occasional murmurs of “Hmm…”
The analyst compared the letter with documents from a drawer and scribbled notes on blank paper.
At some point, Lily dozed off in her awkward position.
“Wake up.”
Someone shook her.
Lily startled awake and looked around.
“You exhausted maid.”
The analyst calmly chewed on leaf tobacco.
Beside her stood the confident “Miss Typewriter,” arms crossed, looking down at Lily.
“My mom will explain everything.”
“It might be a long story—or a short one. I’ve extracted everything possible. The rest, you’ll have to figure out yourself. This isn’t magic.”
The analyst spat the tobacco into an empty teacup.
“First—whoever wrote this letter was well educated. The cursive is elegant. No spelling mistakes. Phrases like ‘enclosed herewith’ aren’t used by fools.”
Lily nodded.
“The paper is from the northern regions. People in Londinium don’t use this. Your parents were likely from the north.”
That alone felt vague. Seeing Lily’s unchanged expression, the analyst seemed slightly offended.
“And here—this pressed mark. Something was enclosed with the letter. A jewel.”
“A jewel?”
Lily owned nothing except the locket she had when she was left at the convent.
“A jewel and a baby.”
The analyst stared directly at Lily.
Without thinking, Lily replied:
“I’m completely penniless…”
“And this ‘M’—it’s just an initial. No full name. Strange, isn’t it? Someone wealthy enough to send a jewel, yet referring to themselves only by an initial when entrusting a child.”
Lily felt confused.
If she hadn’t been left directly at the convent… did that mean she had been entrusted to someone else first—and then abandoned?
“One more thing. This account number—it was typed using a machine sold at this shop.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“How can you tell?”
“How could I not? Early models leave a thin line through the middle of letters. Makes the ink look smudged. And look at the ‘i’—that square shape is unique to this model.”
She tapped an old typewriter.
“If you track down the buyers of this model, you might find your parents.”
Hope surged in Lily, and she leaned forward.
“Do you have a list of all the buyers?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Lily’s shoulders drooped.
“It was a popular model. We sold hundreds.”
Seeing her reaction, the analyst frowned.
“That’s all the reaction you’ve got?”
“I—I just thought… I could find them right away.”
“Knowing your parents were wealthy enough to own jewels is already something. And rich people don’t buy these themselves. The customer list wouldn’t help much anyway.”
Lily tried to imagine her mother from the clues.
Her chest tightened.
What kind of situation forced them to entrust both a child and a jewel?
And why did that person fail them?
“There was probably a family crest stamped here. Custom paper. Red ink—long faded.”
The old woman took out another piece of tobacco.
“Thank you. This helped a lot.”
As Lily bowed, the analyst spoke more kindly.
“Since you came to me first, I’ll give you a good price. Gino, give her the receipt.”
“Yes, Mom!”
After retrieving the letter, Lily left the shop.
The bell rang again as Gino rushed after her.
“Your name is Elizabeth, right? From Belmore Hotel… here, take this.”
She handed Lily a large box.
“What is this?”
“It’s the same model your parents used.”
“Why give this to me? It must be expensive.”
Gino smiled and brushed dust off her hands.
“It’s over 30 years old. No one wanted it. I thought you’d like it.”
She looked at Lily anxiously.
After a moment of surprise, Lily smiled.
“Thank you so much.”
“I’m an orphan too.”
Lily blinked in surprise.
“But… you called her your mother.”
“She’s not. But I decided to call her that. If you don’t have a family, you can make one. I hope you find your parents.”
With that, Gino ran back into the shop.
Lily couldn’t wave because of the heavy box, so she bowed instead.
Her heart pounded.
Were they people who wrote often?
Forgetting the pain in her feet, Lily walked quickly.
At least some of her long-held questions about her parents had been answered.
The afternoon rain had cleared.
The red glow of sunset reflected on the river, painting the city walls in rose hues.
It suddenly felt like a beautiful city.
Lily recalled her early days at the hotel—
Timothy standing up to the manager,
Summer protecting her from other maids,
Mr. Budino, who had since left,
And…
The guest from Room 301—
The man she had kissed.
What is he doing now?
“I’m curious about you. I want to know you. I even like hearing you chatter.”
“Only to you.”
She couldn’t forget the expression he had made when she kissed his cheek—
A confident, arrogant man caught off guard by something so small.
And for some reason…
She had liked that.
* * *
Drawn by the scent of peonies from a nearby flower shop, Lily found herself stepping closer.
They were the same flowers that had filled Room 301 with their presence.
She remembered the dripping nectar that had stained the carpet.
“Could I have a bouquet?”
Holding the flowers, Lily’s shadow overlapped and separated from the shadows of the trees as she walked.
