Chapter 39
Ash and Diamonds
“Cecil, that’s just a nervous condition. You’re being too hysterical.”
Cecil knew that, having never once fainted in her life, it was contradictory to think of herself as hysterical. But for now, that was the only way she could console herself.
Cecil, come to the residence this weekend. We have matters to discuss regarding the marriage.
In any case, she had already intended to spend the weekend at the Prime Minister’s residence. She was gradually giving up on the expectation of spending any meaningful time with Lord Belmore at the hotel. There was nothing worse than being openly ignored in a place full of watching eyes.
After finishing her bath, Cecil noticed the pearl earrings placed on the vanity. She’s not the kind of girl who would leave things like this unorganized—where did she go?
Annoyed, Cecil sat down at the dressing table.
“Where’s the box?”
She pulled out various jewelry boxes from the drawer, only to make the mess worse rather than organize anything. She was not someone accustomed to such tasks.
“Elizabeth?”
Cecil irritably pushed open the adjoining door where Lily stayed.
“May I come in?”
She said it out of formality, even though she knew no one was there. As expected, the room was empty.
Like a proper, meticulous maid, the room was neatly arranged without a flaw.
So, from the beginning, she hadn’t intended to rummage through the worn-out drawer. She had never taken interest in a servant’s furniture or personal traces.
She had simply been looking for a velvet box to hold her pearl earrings.
“A gift sent by Lord Belmore.”
Pearl earrings.
Not a particularly thoughtful gift. There was an old superstition—now mostly believed only by grandmothers—that pearls given to an unmarried lady would bring tears.
But regardless of meaning, pearls from the Black Sea were expensive, so Cecil had accepted them gladly.
Creak—
The old drawer made a chilling sound.
As soon as she opened the rough, splintered wooden drawer, something unexpected caught Cecil’s eye.
[To Mr. Christopher of Room 301]
A familiar name.
Her heart began to pound.
Why is this here?
Belmore… with a maid…
Cecil couldn’t believe that a maid could write so elegantly, so she turned the envelope over. If there were a postmark, she could argue that someone else had written it.
No way.
The tips of Cecil’s fingers grew cold. Without thinking about the consequences, she tore open the poorly sealed envelope.
No… it can’t be.
But her belief was betrayed by a shining bracelet.
“…Ha.”
Cecil let out a breath that was neither a sigh nor a scoff.
“This filthy…!”
The bracelet and the letter were crushed together in her hand. It was unmistakable. The bracelet she had slipped into his coat pocket the night they met after the orphanage play.
Placing jewelry in a man’s pocket was an act with distinctly sexual implications. Now she understood why he had shown no reaction.
All sorts of sordid imaginations she had heard from other ladies flooded her mind.
He wouldn’t…
He had never once been involved in any scandal regarding women. A part of her desperately tried to deny the reality before her, but the bracelet in her hand forced her to face it like a pair of shackles.
If he’s been involved with a maid at the hotel, no wonder there are no rumors.
Whispering voices in her mind pushed Cecil deeper into darkness.
Cecil, trust him. Even if he’s been with a maid, he’ll still marry you in the end. Be proud.
[Mr. Christopher, I kindly ask you to find the owner of this item that came with me that night. I apologize for the trouble.]
Even Cecil herself could not dare address him as “Christopher.” And yet some lowly girl had written to him using his name.
That night?
Cecil began to examine each word carefully.
A sudden urge rose within her—to grab the maid by the hair, strip her, and beat her.
She recalled the muddy shoes, the disheveled hair, the missing hairpins, and combined them with Elizabeth’s appearance. It was hard to stop imagining the two entangled together in a disgraceful scene.
And the other party was a maid.
A maid.
Not a noble lady of similar standing, but someone lowly who washed clothes and cleaned rooms.
What an embarrassment that would be. If this were to become known, it would amount to publicly declaring herself undesirable even before marriage.
Cecil, stay calm. There’s no solid evidence yet.
If she acted rashly, she might end up being the one seen as strange. Moreover, the tone of the letter was rather formal—not something one would send to a lover.
Cecil picked up a candle beside her and lit the part where “Mr. Christopher” was written.
The dry paper caught fire, leaving behind ashes that fell to the wooden floor.
A single sheet of paper on Belmore’s desk put him in a difficult position.
Prime Minister John Hobert was using his daughter as a bargaining chip. His demands—for shares in the hotel, cruise ships, and newspapers—were excessive.
Rather than dealing with the troublesome reality, Christopher allowed himself to briefly think of Elizabeth.
She has trouble sleeping. There were no signs of a pillow being used whenever she cleaned the room.
Christopher chuckled softly at the thought. With such keen observational skills, yet still unaware of his identity—her innocence felt detached from the harshness of reality.
Knock, knock.
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
“May I come in?”
Shortly after, a nervous maid entered, interrupting his thoughts.
“What is it?”
He set down his pen and looked directly at her. The maid flushed red and replied,
“She’s not in her room. I think she’s taking a break.”
“Leave.”
With that, Christopher headed toward the greenhouse. It was entirely because of her. If she didn’t come, he would go to her. He knew that Lily often hid in the greenhouse.
Keep the north door of the greenhouse open.
That had been his instruction to the steward. When she pulled the door and gasped in surprise, he was already inside.
Her habits were poorly formed from the start.
He had seen her burying her nose in old books or scribbling seriously in a notebook more than once.
Still, there was no guarantee she would be there every time, so today’s visit was simply habitual. Though he did carry a small expectation.
Christopher paused upon hearing unfamiliar voices inside the greenhouse.
“Lily, the editor asked me to dig up some facts about Belmore not long ago…”
An unfamiliar voice. And a familiar name.
The intrusion into his domain turned into cold anger upon hearing the next words.
“Why?”
The clear voice brought to mind the image of the girl’s surprised expression. The conversation continued in fragments, difficult to fully hear.
The speaker was Timothy Rutland, and the topic concerned himself.
Boldly, the two were talking as though they were alone in Lord Belmore’s greenhouse.
“Until there’s solid evidence, the editor said not to pursue that line further.”
He leaned against a large fern tree as usual, its stem swaying slightly under his weight.
The two suddenly fell silent. Christopher found himself setting aside the documents he had brought and listening more intently than he intended.
“I overheard my parents discussing my marriage yesterday. It’s exactly what I feared, but now because of this, I can’t even return to school.”
“Is your marriage partner already decided?”
Her voice carried clear unease.
“Not exactly…”
As the outline of why he had called Lily became clearer, Christopher felt an urge to interrupt them.
Within him stirred a complex mix of emotions—intense, possessive feelings he had never experienced toward anyone else. It was an energy even he couldn’t fully define.
“I’d like to formally introduce you to my parents. Even if the money I earn from the newspaper isn’t much, we could at least get a small room.”
At last, the moment he cast aside the guise of friendship and confessed.
“When I return this time, I may not be able to see you for at least two or three years. During that time, my parents will find a marriage partner. Lily, you—”
He feared she might end up with someone else. That he might spend his life loving a woman who would never be his wife.
At that moment, Christopher sincerely pitied the inexperienced Timothy. Though marriage without love was possible, he behaved as if it were a death sentence.
“Your parents will choose someone suitable for you, and I’ll congratulate you.”
The woman tried to comfort Rutland in a mature manner. Yet there was something in her tone—something beyond simple politeness and kindness—that irritated him.
“Lily, I’ll convince my parents. Even if you’re an orphan, if we say we love each other, they won’t oppose us. And if they do, we can go far away and live. People in the New World don’t care about status.”
“Could you stop saying that?”
Through the leaves, he saw her lightly pat Timothy’s back. Though he couldn’t hear clearly, Timothy seemed to be earnestly persuading her.
“If you think I’ll just keep you as a friend, you’ve completely misunderstood me.”
The humid air of the greenhouse felt suffocatingly heavy in the silence. The atmosphere sank.
Christopher, no longer paying attention to their conversation, opened the documents he had intended to read.
