"Louis."
The blood froze in his veins as he clasped the arm of his friend, whose rustling alerted him to the sound of his grandmother's footsteps. The long shadow of the woman loomed over them, her stern face glaring at them from the top of the stairs.
"A happy night, Grandmother." Louis forced a tense smile, only for Harold to mutter despairingly beside him. He straightened up to stand more properly, his voice faltering slightly as he swallowed his tongue.
"Good evening, madam."
The elderly lady cast a contemptuous glance at Harold before shifting her sharp gaze to her grandson.
"You're late."
Louis swallowed hard. He knew no excuse would spare him from the scolding that was sure to follow. The moment had already passed, and the situation was beyond repair. Despite the indifferent look on her face, he could tell she was livid. And at that moment, Harold, sensing the storm, subtly nudged him in an attempt to reassure him.
"We've arrived just in time for the celebration."
"It's a pleasure to see how many compliments you receive for your kindness, madam."
Harold chuckled, his mood mirroring Louis's, who remained stiff as he observed his grandmother's reaction. Her hand clenched around the fan she held, its edges trembling slightly, though she wished to maintain a pleasant atmosphere for them. She chose to leave without another word.
But Louis was certain that the matter would not pass without consequence. He wouldn't escape the blame for his actions. At twenty-four years old, he was the only man in the family to carry the first-degree title. Yet despite this, he always turned into a guilty child under his grandmother's gaze—one that had never once softened in discipline or treatment.
"At ease."
Harold lay comfortably on the elegant bed, hugging one of the pillows with a half-smile. He lazily watched Louis take off his belt and could feel his friend's silent frustration beside him. With deliberate ease, he parted his eyelids, gazing at Louis with feigned sympathy.
"You're starting to look like your angry grandmother."
"Do you think so?"
Louis looked at him with a blank expression for a moment, tense, before their laughter finally broke the silence. Harold buried his face into the pillow, his laughter echoing through the dimly lit room. His chuckling softened into a faint smile as he murmured,
"Man, you need to get married."
"Just so I end up with a woman who scolds me like she does?" Louis teased, shifting onto his back, lying flat beside his friend. Harold lazily lifted his head onto the pillow, his blue eyes meeting Louis's amused green ones.
"No, you need a woman who can match your stubbornness."
"Absolutely not. Harold Sinclair will never marry. I'm better off without a woman in my life."
Harold stated the phrase with such certainty that Louis almost smirked. That line had been repeated so many times in their conversations that it no longer carried any real weight. Marriage had never been a serious concern for either of them, at least not yet. Their reasons and circumstances were different, but the topic itself had never been a pressing matter.
Silence crept into the room, blending with the muffled sounds of the night outside, where the fading echoes of the celebration could still be heard. Louis's gaze lingered on the ceiling, where the dim glow of the moon cast soft shadows. Before long, Harold's voice broke through the quiet.
"You really do need to find a wife, Louis."
The sun rose on a bitterly cold Thursday afternoon in January, its weak light peeking through London's cloudy sky. It watched as people moved between the damp, grey streets. Louis's quiet eyes followed the slow-moving carriages until one finally stopped, lowering him to the pavement, where he recognized the cursed melody echoing against the aged brick walls. The sharp winter air bit at his face as he hesitated for a moment, exhaling deeply.
Louis glanced at his pocket watch for the second time in a quarter of an hour as he waited for his reckless friend, who had been delayed for twelve minutes. He spotted him on the opposite side of the street, walking alongside a woman, arriving late for the tea appointment they had scheduled together this morning.
He sipped the last drops of tea, which had long since lost its warmth. Just as he set his cup down, the café door opened, and Harold entered, his bright smile casually signaling his delight while he adjusted his coat and removed his scarf before taking a seat across from Louis, catching his breath.
"I apologize for the delay; something came up."
"Sometimes, I get the feeling I'll have to chase you everywhere just to keep you out of trouble."
Louis raised an eyebrow as he pushed his cup aside. Harold simply shrugged, adjusting his coat before ruffling his friend's hair playfully.
"She was a lovely lady asking about the post office, and as a noble man, it was my duty to escort her there myself."
"Oh, and being a noble man, you can never say no to good deeds."
Harold chuckled at his friend's sarcasm before acknowledging the waiter's question with a nod, ordering a cup of warm tea infused with fresh mint. Then, linking his fingers together, he offered a half-smile.
"So, how have you been these days?"
Louis's long sigh was an obvious answer.
"Nothing new. My grandmother still refuses to speak to me since the night of the ball. So spare me Cornelius's warnings about finding a way to settle my father's debts before the deadline while I remain idle."
Harold pursed his lips, his amusement fading. The situation was bleak. Though he was not the most reasonable of men, he understood his friend's helplessness. Watching Louis struggle beside him, unable to act, had forced Harold into long hours of contemplation.
This, however, had led him to avoid visiting their home, as their outings were now limited to cafés and restaurants.
"I'm leaving in two hours for Elgan Manor. Perhaps my Uncle Albert can help me with that predicament." Louie lit his cigarette with a stiff face, and the smoke blew out. Harold leaned back on the table, but no sooner had he uttered his first words than the waiter arrived with the cup of tea and the sugar glass, swallowing the conversation for a moment, then leaving.
"You know how much I like and respect Albert for being different from the rest of your family, but we both know he can't help you, Louie. And I don't think you're going to the manor for that purpose."
They both kept the conversation whispering. Harold gave his friend a serious, searching look from behind his cup, and Louie let out a sigh that betrayed his anguish
"I need some peace, Harold. Everything that's going on is making me nervous. And I need some time to sort out my thoughts and figure out what to do with all these problems, away from my grandmother, away from Zain Haroun, away from everything."
Harold pursed his lips in a momentary silence, the soft melody of the guitar dominating the warm atmosphere of the café until his empty mug clinked gently on its saucer. "So when are you coming back from there?"
"In a week. Unless something new happens."
The man with the twisted beliefs nodded wordlessly, despite his eyes that spoke of something lurking on the tip of his hesitant tongue. Harold bit the inside of his cheek lightly, watching the glimmer of smoke that escaped his friend's cigarette before tucking the extinguished stub beside the teacup and sighing
"Do you know what might solve your problem?" he began softly, catching Louis' attention. He looked at him with a frown and waited attentively. Harold's green eyes flashed with excitement. "You must find a wife!"
What does marriage have to do with what I'm doing? And why do you keep bringing that subject up so much these days?" Louis snorted in annoyance, frowning at Harold's eager, arms-crossed outburst.
"You don't understand, Louis. Think about it. You're from a big, distinguished family. You're handsome, you studied engineering, and you have a good reputation. Any woman would wait for a word from you. With a single gesture, you could make the most prestigious family in the kingdom fall in love with you. And if you married a wealthy woman, you could simply pay off your debts and get a beautiful wife at the same time!"
Louis stared at him for a long moment, as if unable to find a suitable answer to that impassioned suggestion, until he slowly shook his head and frowned. "I won't do that, Harold. I can't marry a woman just for her money. It's exploitative and inhuman. That's principle."
My friend, you are in a crisis, like the one the kingdom sometimes faces from time to time. In an age of crisis, there are no principles, only logical thinking. This is the only solution that will save you and the family name!
Louie objected with a relentless denial, insisting on speaking despite Harold's persuasive urgings, exploiting his crisis and urging him to abandon his principles and submit to the futile language of political diplomacy that transforms marriage from a sacred love contract into a ludicrous deal.
"Let's assume I agree. Do you have any suggestions? Enlighten me." Louie rested his chin on his fist, following Harold, who stiffened for a moment at his sudden question, before smiling sideways and whispering, "What do you think of Siggin Palom?"
Like someone who loves the dialogue and anticipates the question and the course of the conversation. Louis was stunned and unexpectedly looked at the other's response with a hint of insight that explained much of what he had said since they had met the suspicious blonde woman for the first and last time
"That's funny." Everything he said was half-laughed. Harold must have been joking, as usual, when he suggested he marry Sigin Pallum, the English Casanova. Not after he'd warned him not to rub shoulders with her and avoid her. This was all one of his heavy jokes.
Ever since that party that brought misfortune upon his head, he'd avoided her at any time, which sometimes made him watch her door from his study window to avoid meeting her. How he'd been delighted when he'd seen her this morning getting into a carriage with a large suitcase of clothes while her brother was seeing her off, so that Louis could conclude that she was going somewhere.
That was never a woman he should be rubbing shoulders with.
Think about it. She's a beautiful, independent, wealthy, and famous bird, a fine example of the perfect wife. You didn't notice her glances at you at the party, Louis! You'd completely captured her attention!"
"I'm not having this discussion," he offered briefly. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation now. After everything that had happened. After everything he had seen, that woman aroused in him every feeling of contempt and revulsion with her reckless, vicious actions. She was a woman without an ounce of self-respect.
"Why?"
"You didn't see what I saw, Harold."
He would never reveal what he had seen that night as she allowed a man to embrace her so shamelessly before his eyes. She was a creepy pervert, and he didn't even want her actions on his tongue or the recollection of what he had seen in his mind
"Nor is she my type." He blurted out, placing the money on the table with a frown and standing up as Harold picked up his hat and coat later and made his way outside, where their spirits were refreshed by a gust of cool, modern air.
"And since when do you have a type?" Harold sneered lowly, stubbornly following his footsteps on the sidewalk and giving him a side-eye sullenly. "Any man has a type."
Raising an eyebrow in disapproval at his answer, Harold breathed patiently. "I was in France for five years on my own, Harold. Of course I had a few flings and met a few women. And you can be sure the blondes weren't your type. Now shut that subject up and put it out of your mind."
Harold pursed his lips stubbornly, tilting his head forward to relax his features and smiling a winking smile at Louis, who followed his gaze without understanding, only to be met a few steps away by Simon Palom, wearing a velvet coat and a round hat, holding what looked like a painting covered in light paper.
"Talking about the Paloms." Harold began with an intent look, which made Louis glare at him warningly, showing no desire to come into contact with anyone from that family. However, what was on his friend's mind was more serious, as he slipped out of his grasp and quickly patted the blond on the shoulder.
Louis cursed under his breath with a threatening growl as he slowed down to catch up with his annoying companion, who welcomed Simon with such joy and warmth that the former struggled to fake with a forced smile, while stealing the attention of the audience. "Mr. Palom, welcome."
"Louie! So good to see you!"
"Louis! It's so nice to see you!"
When Simon smiled brightly and warmly embraced his outstretched hand, he felt bad. Sigin Balom's younger brother was so friendly and kind that it made Louie feel ashamed of himself for blaming his sister for his mistakes, even though the blond might never know what that woman was doing in the dark.
"So, where are you going?" Harold asked, glancing curiously at the wrapped painting, and Simon kept his broad smile on.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Victor, the owner of the Solgaran Gallery. Segin has finished one of her paintings, and Mr. Victor is helping me put it in a suitable frame so it doesn't tear."
"Wow, I didn't know she could draw." Harold nudged Louis's side subtly, motioning for him to join the conversation, but Louis was sullen and just wanted to leave.
He hated to stand with someone he didn't feel comfortable with.
Simon nodded proudly, hugging the painting tightly to his chest. "Yes. It's a hobby she does in her spare time to entertain herself. Her husband was a painter, and she learned from him."
"Which one?" Louis asked suddenly, drowning out the sound of footsteps passing by and suffocating the three men's atmosphere at his question, which seemed both bold and a bit embarrassed, even though Simon's smile didn't waver an inch. "The third. Lord Edward Murray. He was a famous painter."
Harold gripped Louis's arm tightly, as if to warn him of his tongue, which sometimes loosened to speak inappropriately, and smiled awkwardly, trying to dispel the spark his friend had just created. "How is Mrs. Seqin doing these days?"
"She's fine! Even if she catches a little cold, she can't stand winter at all. She left this morning for Ilgan to have a quiet environment and pleasant weather in the country to help her recover."
Louis's throat went dry with bitterness as he heard the blond's sentence repeat itself in his mind over and over again, as if she was enjoying ruining his early pleasure at seeing her leave in the morning, thinking he wouldn't see her for some time until he returned from the country estate.
But fate was driven by weak feet.
Harold's green face shone with amazed enthusiasm, and Louis read in it the idea he'd been pressing on him a moment ago, and he breathed heavily.
"Really? Louis's uncle owns an estate and a cherry farm there! Louis is even going there today. What a wonderful coincidence!"
) It wasn't a wonderful coincidence at all. Not the way Louis thought it would be.
"Really? That's nice, maybe they'll meet again." Louis smiled faintly at the blond before the latter bid them farewell and hurried off to his appointment, leaving Harold to give him a winking glance, which made Louis roll his eyes in annoyance and promptly respond.
"Nice offer. But forget it, Harold. I'm never meeting that woman there."
Dusk was dominating the sky, a pale pink painted by the winter's rugged brush, adding a touch of beauty to its descending plume over the genteel English quarter, and the sound of sunset birds mingled with the bell of the Ligrint house, which rang out, making Louis look up from his bag .
He left his folded clothes aside and made his way downstairs to where his grandmother sat by the living room fireplace reading while Oliver, the houseboy, was talking to someone on the doorstep.
"Who's it, Oliver?"
"It's Mr. Simon Palom, sir."
Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise, noticing his grandmother's sudden movement as she flitted out. He gestured for the servant to go while he rounded the door to face the blond with his gently parted mouth. "Hello, Louie!"
"Hello, Mr. Palom."
He didn't hide the questioning look in his eyes as the second held up a semi-small box in front of him, giving him a shy, studenty look.
"Harold said you were on foot for Ilgan today, and I was wondering if you could deliver this to Seqin. I'd mail it, but that would take time, so I thought I'd ask that favor of you. That is, if you don't mind, of course!"
How could he refuse in front of that polite face? That twenty-one-year-old boy was so friendly that he marveled at his sister's malice and the vile deeds she committed. As if they had never borne fruit from the same branch.
"Yes, yes. Of course."
Simon smiled cheerfully, and Louie picked up the box, which was lighter than a feather, showing great gratitude with his eyes. "Thank you, Louie. I hope that's not too much trouble for you. I'll leave you now so as not to disrupt you. Thanks again!"
Simon walked away with every word of his last sentence, leaving Louis on his doorstep with a light box that weighed heavily on the scales of his fading feelings, which showed no desire for a new meeting.
Perhaps he was over-avoiding a woman who lived on the other side and whose brother had forced him into a gentle relationship, but with whom he was uncomfortable. He hadn't grown up with a woman like her. She was mysteriously different.
"Louie." He blinked at his grandmother's sharp call, turning so she could see the box and clench her jaws briefly. "What did that filthy young man give you?"
What a way for his grandmother to be talking to him again after a night of revelry. Louis licked his lips, sighing, and gripped the box tightly. "A package. He wants me to deliver it to someone in Ilgan."
Doubt was in her eyes. She approached him with her cane, which taped as sternly as her face, until she glanced at the paper taped to the front of the box, where it said, "Elevan Country Town - Palom Estate."
The old woman said nothing as she raised her head to him, maintaining the same steely stare that made him tense at her sudden anger. "Burn that desecrated thing, Louie. Anything from that house is contaminated."
"What? No! That's a trust, Grandma." He countered sarcastically, surprised by her strange request, which wasn't surprising given her intense and bizarre dislike of Palom and her brother. They may have been dubious people, but not to the horrid degree of loathing his grandmother expressed at length whenever they were mentioned.
She hated them with a passion .
The lady frowned firmly and began to lash out in disgust. "What if it's something illegal and that corrupt boy is using you as his messenger? Whatever's inside that box will only bring disaster!"
His lips straightened in the face of her stubborn insistence. He knew how bigoted his grandmother was and how strict she was in her decisions, and perhaps he was convinced of her suspicions and reserved judgments about the two brothers inside him... But Simon Palom had turned to him and asked him with such kindness that he was embarrassed, and he would never have appeared to be a lowly man in front of him.
He explained his final position to his grandmother with a calmness that contrasted with the rage that flared in her eyes as she glanced at the box one last time before returning to her seat, her face clouded with indignation and rage that possessed her
Louis dropped the small box next to his bag, devoting the rest of his attention to the things he hadn't yet been deprived of, which were only a quarter of an hour away from leaving for the train station. His grandmother's words were running through his mind, stinging his doubts that hadn't left their roots, even though their resonant scent had emanated inside him, so he gave the box an eager look.
He knew that opening it would be extremely rude of him, but one look to ensure the integrity of its contents wouldn't hurt. Right? He pursed his lips and knitted his eyebrows decisively as he opened the box with stiff fingers, his features widening in surprise.
A blue silk scarf.
Its texture was extremely soft for his fingers, which gripped the headscarf folded inside the box, and the sweet scent of jasmine penetrated his nose. He inhaled pleasantly, feeling his limbs relax at the softness of its texture and the sweetness of its scent
It was nothing but a charming scarf that the younger brother wanted to send to the distant blonde lady. It was nothing serious. He put the scarf back in its place and smiled mockingly at himself and his intentions, which had been tainted by false suspicions .
Perhaps he was just being hasty in judgment.
The threads of the cold night were intertwined with clouds that swept across the English sky, liberating its snowflakes before the eyes that contemplated the creative painting that shared the snowy season with enchanting nature, painting a picturesque rural scene that the heart longs for with love.
The carriage moved freely against the rebellious winds between the orchards and fields that flourished with fruit trees and roses that exuded a soft nectar that seized the senses, making them prone to unquenchable love. All of these English rural appearances held peace in Lowe's chest, as he watched them calmly through his carriage window.
The moon, with its eroded edges, cast its pure sigh over the town of Ilgan, famous for its fresh fruit and flowering trees, while a fresh, clear breeze stung his body as he got out of the carriage in front of his uncle Albert Wilson's house, which was positioned among cherry fields that had grown pink roses whose fragrance overwhelmed the air
That place had always been his comfort and his source of solace. He spent nearly two years of his childhood on that estate, immersed in his uncle's unique world, filled with diverse books, soft melodies, and a love of fruit that transcended the stages of obsession.
Although his uncle came from a distinguished family, he was completely different from them. He didn't care about wealth or prestigious position, but rather focused on his hobby and created for himself an earthly bliss that would make him independent of the city's pleasures and deceptive appearances. For this reason, he was closest to Louis's heart.
"Welcome, Mr. Legrent!"
Louis smiled at the farm's gardener and his uncle's assistant, Rashdan, who met him with a cheerful face and a welcoming smile. "Hello, Rashdan. How are you?"
"I'm fine, sir. Mr. Wilson is eagerly awaiting you!"
Louie handed him his bag and the small box as they walked side by side to the door of the house, which was dazzlingly lit, making him feel warm and comfortable with its beautiful appearance. It was as if he had been lost for years and his soul had been restored upon arriving in that magical paradise.
"Louie!" Albert Wilson's face lit up as he greeted his only and favorite nephew at the doorstep with a warm hug. Louie smiled at him. How he truly felt he had come home with that warm embrace. "It's so nice to have you back here."
"Yes. I guess city life just isn't for me anymore." Louie sneered, his small smile fading as his uncle pulled away, wrapping his shoulder tightly around him as he led him into the house, which was decorated with scented candles that perfumed the place with the scent of lavender, relaxing his limbs as they rested on a bench by the fireplace.
"The fields look so picturesque. I almost forgot how wonderful they are."
Rashdan dropped Louie's bag by the door and excused himself by placing the small box on the table while Albert poured some water into a cup, which Louie gratefully picked up in front of his uncle's broad smile.
You have so much to see. Ilgan has become more beautiful than it was in the years you've been away from here.
Louie shook his head with a half-smile and glanced at the small box before returning his gaze to his uncle, wondering, "Do you know where Palom Manor is?"
Albert seemed surprised by his question, though strangely pleasantly surprised.
"Yes, it's down the hill by the strawberry trees. Why do you ask?"
"I have a package I need to deliver to a lady there."
"You mean Seqin?"
He frowned in surprise at his uncle's happy tone as he pronounced the blonde woman's name without a title, suggesting a relationship so close that it didn't require any formality.
"Yes, her brother asked me to deliver that box to her, and I couldn't refuse," he stated with a hidden annoyance that Albert managed to interpret, causing the light in his lips, which had brightened at the mention of the lady to fade and he looked at him calmly. "I can tell Rashdan to deliver it if you don't want to do it yourself."
It was as if that suggestion lifted a burden from his chest. He was anxious to meet that woman again; the meeting weighed heavily on his heart, and his uncle's question made him feel relieved that he wouldn't have to see her again.
Not after what happened the last time.
He heard his uncle summon Rashdan, ordering him to take the box to Mrs. Seqin Palum's house as he went upstairs to his old room, which the uncle had arranged to suit his stay for the coming days, where he would get rid of all his worries among the beautiful cherry fields.
He knew that this visit would change a lot, and he would return from it differently and better than now. How excited he was to see what the charming town of Ilgan would do to him .