Sunset covered the sky with a beautiful crimson veil, casting its delicate shadows over the fields of the Ilkan countryside, which had blossomed with trees and flowers that danced with the winter winds, which had a spring feel, to a poetic melody created by the soaring birds of the horizon.
The wooden rocking chair swayed gently by the back door of the house, the breeze caressing his flat features, like his eyes that noticed the book in his hand and the warm cup of tea rising and falling from his lips every now and then.
Louis's day wasn't as busy as he was used to in the city. There wasn't the intense cold or the painful noise that gave him a headache, which made his afternoon hours pass with a tranquility that descended upon his heart to calm him. How badly he needed this stillness
"Hello, madam!" He blinked at the cheer coming from the cherry fields and stood up outside the door, watching Albert remove his gloves as he greeted the blonde woman in the white dress and the blue scarf that tied the tail of her long hair as she approached him with a broad smile. He frowned.
It was as if he was cursed to have her every minute of his life. He wasn't a hypocrite and didn't like to show the opposite of what he harbored in his heart. He was certain that his discomfort with her was clearly evident in his curt treatment of her. Yet, she met this with an indifferent look that irritated him.
"Hello, Albert." He heard her soft voice ringing in the air and Albert kissing her hand with all nobility, so his face contracted in annoyance. He couldn't help but think of the ill will that Mrs. Palum hadn't hidden for his uncle. He would never allow himself to be made her sixth husband
"She comes by every now and then to help Mr. Wilson take care of the jasmine trees or harvest the cherries. She knows a lot about these things." That was all Rashdan said as he lowered the baskets of harvested cherries in answer to Louie's question about her presence that sunset .
And how was her relationship with Albert, exactly? "Louis knew he greatly exaggerated his negative feelings toward her and his deep-rooted suspicions of her, but he was trying to protect those he cared about from her and her charming cunning.
"He loves her very much. She kept him company a lot after Lady Anna died. They have a very good and strong relationship." Louis's lips straightened into a frown, and Rashdan noticed with confusion. "You seem a little worried about her, Mr. Legrent."
"It's just..." Louis sighed deeply as he picked up his book from the bench and cast a last glance at the sunset that was about to descend with a luminous darkness on his uncle and the blonde, who were chatting happily. "Out of the ordinary."
Everything about it was out of the ordinary.
The city had a unique spirit, despite its gloom, which had not touched a corner of his cheerful heart. Everyone groaned in annoyance at the chilly air, and he smiled, enjoying the fresh breeze on his clean-shaven, flat face
Harold walked through the city streets under the waves of the late sunset, enjoying the quiet roads and the bright lights like moors next to the moon shining in the sky like a young bride, witnessing a wonderful day that had passed like all his other gentle days.
"Charlie, don't go too far!" He listened to that low tone a few meters from the sidewalk, where a carriage had stopped. A woman in a scarlet dress tugged lightly at her charms while her face contracted very gently as she looked in the opposite direction. He followed her silently.
A small child, perhaps no more than six years old, stopped on the illuminated threshold of the pet shop, looking at her with a mischievous smile. Harold smiled, watching the young woman with her brown hair tied back behind her head, his eyes sharp, but not spoiling the softness of her features as she hurried toward him .
Harold took the remaining steps toward the store, where he listened to the chirping of the small birds in their spacious cages, filling the space that had been empty except for the beautiful woman and the small child with her.
"Hello, Harold. I didn't expect you to come today after sunset." The owner of the large store greeted him with a warm handshake, which he smiled at without taking his eyes off the child who was happily petting the birds behind their bars.
"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by to see you and check on my birds," he said, though it was only half true. He had been reluctant to enter the store that night, even though that woman's stunning heels had drawn him here like an unwary fool.
"They're doing well. I feed them every day like you told me. Don't worry." Harold nodded, agreeing with the man's words without adding anything
He was like a permanently welcome guest in that place. His actions had the strangest qualities in the world, but he also had the most amazing hobby that he was shy to announce to everyone.
He was obsessed with little sparrows and their delicate voices that descended like a sweet symphony upon his ears. He had a rich past with these delicate birds, and he had a close relationship with them that had never weakened. And he was happy about that.
"Look at this! They're swinging." Little Charlie's eyes shone with delight as he followed the movements of the sparrows flying within the confines of their cage from one corner to the next. The woman's puppy smiled blankly... until Harold's husky voice intervened quietly.
"Her name is Charlotte."
The woman turned to her left where he settled with a sideways smile that failed to break her surprised stillness, before he knelt down next to the child and whispered to the other sparrow. "And this is Victor. They're a couple."
"They're beautiful!"
Just like that lady here." Harold craned his neck to the unknown woman's face, maintaining a smile against the scowl that set her brow. He straightened under her gaze again and bowed gently. "Harold Sigrid. At your service, my lady."
"Excuse me, Herr Sigrid. But it is not polite to impose yourself unduly here and say unspeakable things in front of a small child."
Difficult.
Harold nodded at the first adjective he could translate from her impassioned words, while maintaining his beaming smile towards her.
"I would not have come in if I hadn't seen you both ogling my birds, my lady. I would have been afraid you would ask to buy them, and I could never refuse in front of such a beautiful woman as yourself."
"That's no excuse for you to intrude on us like this." She protested sharply, not giving him a moment to respond softly, as she turned to the child and stroked his head lightly. "Time to go, Charlie."
"But Mum, we've only just arrived." Charlie grumbled sadly, piercing Harold's heart with guilt as he watched her lead the little boy's hand toward the door with a frown that made him realize how foolish he was. He really hadn't calculated when he would intervene.
"Looks like another bird brought you here tonight, Harold." He heard the shopkeeper's comment, hinting from beside him, straining his reverie, which continued to follow the shadow of the beautiful woman as she acted with her child in a mood that spoiled him without measure. What an idiot
"I wanted to play with the birds, Mom." Charlie pursed his lower lip in annoyance as he escorted his young mother toward their carriage, where the driver waited with an open door. They didn't make it after hearing a very close call that made them turn around questioningly .
Harold stepped out of the shop, his hand gripping the birds' cage as he closed the distance separating him from the woman and her young one with a sorry face and a small, proactive smile.
"I only wanted to make amends for my rash mistake, ma'am. I didn't mean to spoil your visit or be intrusive. Please accept my apologies." He arranged his words carefully, touched by his voice expressing regret as he held the cage out to the young one, who beamed eagerly, though the woman's firm voice stopped him.
"Your apology is accepted, Mr. Sigrid. But your gift is unjustified, so it is unacceptable. Have a good night." Harold's expression fell with resentment, like Charlie's sad, childish face, as they continued toward the trolley, their steps torn by the first with faint hope
"Can I at least know your name? I told you mine." He looked at her with lost eagerness and a heart that grumbled at the rejection he had faced for the first time from a woman. Like a feminine slap, she had sent him back to his shrine. The lady answered him with a steely gaze. "But I didn't ask you about him."
He stiffened. He stood like a statue on the London sidewalk among the night winds, with a heavy cage, staring at the carriage that moved to float among the ghosts of fog, leaving behind a ringing that united with the hissing of his heart, dancing with its turbulent beats.
He had always thought he was an expert on how to deal with women. He had always thought they loved hearing flirtation from the mouth of any man, even if he was a stranger. Then came that mysterious woman to throw all his overly confident suspicions to the wall. He had never felt so much guilt, frustration, and admiration in his entire life
The moonlight gently reflected on the windowpane. The crackling of the lit heater harmonized with the friction of a nearby whisper, making him blink, regaining consciousness that had been drowned by sleep that had attacked him inadvertently while he was reading the sunset clock.
The chime of seven o'clock emanated from the giant house clock as he pulled his neck, which had tilted inches to his right, as he recalled the feeling of his body huddled on the seat parallel to the window, the book lying still in his lap .
Louis had barely removed the remnants of sleep from his eyes when he noticed the source of the chilling friction of a pen tip that a blonde sitting in front of him had passed inside a notebook, capturing all her attention so that she didn't notice his mocking stare.
"What are you doing?"
Siguine raised her head to him with eyes struck by distraction as she put down her black pen and gently moved her shoulder. "What do you see me doing, Mr. Legrent?"
"Disturbing my sleep with your little pen." He spoke in a tone that he didn't bother to hide its roughness. He knew he hadn't woken up to the sound of pen on paper, although it had annoyed him, but he didn't like the idea of someone sitting in front of him watching him while he slept. He was embarrassed.
"I'm sure that's not what woke you up, but I apologize anyway." She smiled, igniting his anger with pity. Why was she pretending to be a polite, kind woman when there was no one else around? He already knew what he saw and knew who she really was
He set his jaw slyly as he stood up, intending to leave, but he was stopped by the echo of her voice, which suddenly dried him in his tracks. "You cannot run away every time we have a conversation, Mr. Legrent."
"And who told you that I am running away from you?" He stalled, but he knew that she was only stating a definite fact. He was running away so that their conversation would not drag on and he would not become even more burdened by the relationship that had been forced upon him between them.
Sikin let out a faint laugh that made him turn and stare at her with poetic disapproval, as if she were meeting his words with the sarcasm of her own rejection.
"You really don't think I am oblivious to your looks and your manner towards me since the night of the party, Mr. Legrent? We cannot just pretend that you did not see me in Sir Arthur Nicholas's arms that night... and that you have judged me to be a woman unworthy of your respect."
He was astonished. How could a woman have the audacity to speak out about a mistake she had simply made in the dark unless she was a woman who considered his presence in any man's embrace to be normal? How suspicious she was.
"I believe it is my right to determine whether or not you deserve my respect, Mrs. Palum." He responded dryly, sinking back into his former seat and meeting her sharp eyes with a look of intense self-confidence that astonished him.
In his life, he had never seen a woman with such a mountain-like gaze.
"No. You have no right." She denied quietly, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You are obliged to respect me whether you like my actions or not. Do not search my mind for your thoughts, sir. What I do is my own business, and if fate has willed you to be a part of it, that does not give you the choice to respect me or not. That is not a choice."
"You talk very philosophically, Mrs. Palum." Louie couldn't keep a sarcastic smile from his lips as he leaned back in his chair, looking at her with contempt for her flimsy talk that didn't convince him. "Do you think I'm obligated to respect you even if what you're doing is wrong?"
"No. I think you should accept that there is something in this world that disagrees with you."
He didn't like that discussion at all. He wasn't in a confrontation to have her parade her strange ideas in front of him just to justify a position he never expected to be justified for. Everyone is free to do what they do and everyone is free to feel what they feel.
"Why are you justifying it to me anyway?" He looked at her with a glassy look that was broken by a sharp one from her as she crossed her legs and rested her hand on them. "I'm not justifying. I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression of me, Mr. Legrent."
"Then you have to justify all your actions to everyone." He didn't notice his spontaneous sentence until her face responded with surprise, which he controlled with his words. He bit his tongue in subtle regret that didn't reach its peak until her jaw tightened in stunned gloom.
"Do you think I don't know what people say about me? I know exactly what they say and how they see me. They reject me because I'm not like them, no matter how unacceptable my difference is, but they don't know what they're talking about. However, I've never let them know the truth. You could say I enjoy seeing them talk as if they know everything, but they know nothing."
Making a mistake and calling it different makes it nothing but a mistake. He felt as if he was sitting in a trial, passionately defending his point of view before someone who had deviated from every rule he had ever learned. "There are laws, principles, and custom."
"Traditions are meant to be followed. We are meant to break them." She argued dully, making him knit his brows unconvinced. She was a rebel.
"I learned things I didn't know from every man I married, Monsieur Legrint. The first was a lawyer, the second a merchant, the third a painter, the fourth a composer, and the fifth a writer. Besides, my father was a cattle dealer. I understand law, commerce and agriculture, and music, and I can write and draw. I know things you haven't a single idea about, Monsieur Legrint."
His face twitched with indignation at her last statement. He balled his fists at her insult and scrambled to his feet in protest. "How do you..."
"Sit. Sit, Mr. Legrent." She demanded softly, stilling his roaring for a few seconds, and he reluctantly obeyed. "I meant no insult. All I'm saying is that my many marriages, which seem so foreign to a society you consider conservative, have made me learn what that society would not allow me to know."
"Is that your justification then? Do you hang out with men just to learn from them?" Louis inquired, puzzled by a slight, unyielding emotion. He resumed his composure and continued the discussion until its conclusion.
Like everything in his relationship with her, he found himself embroiled in a purely philosophical debate. And he couldn't escape.
"An intelligent woman is one who uses everything that happens in her life to her advantage. Society sees a woman without a man as disrespectful, and I've been by a man's side every moment of my life to please people, but I've never been like any woman you'll ever meet."
"Do you consider yourself exceptional?" He sneered. No matter how many times he repeated this to himself, she was definitely far from everything familiar he'd ever seen. She was strange... and different!
"Considering myself exceptional makes me like everyone else. Considering myself not, that makes me exceptional." She smiled sweetly, her charm undoubted, and he was surprised when she straightened up, hugging her closed notebook to her chest.
"It was a happy occasion, Mr. Legrent. I hope my conversation didn't bother you." She shook her head gently at him, before retreating outside, drawing his astonished eyes behind her, listening to the buzzing of a mind that had dulled for moments he didn't realize.
What a strange conversation with an even stranger woman!
He didn't know how long he sat there, studying an empty corner and replaying the conversation in his mind carefully, pondering her words that seemed more logical with each passing moment. How could a woman cause an earthquake in everything he considered constant, and even make him so simply convinced of it?
The eight-minute chimes of the clock found their way to his ears, gathering the fragments of his scattered mind. He blinked lazily, stretching his limbs before getting up from his seat, completely unaware of his path outside, until he saw Albert sitting near the living room, contemplating a painting with intense longing.
Louis wasn't too surprised when his sapphire eyes reflected a beautiful painting of his aunt's loving wife, Lana. It was painted with a delicate hand and a sense that touched his heart with passion. What a beautiful painting of a beautiful woman.
"A beautiful painting," he said softly, attracting Albert's attention, who smiled longingly and nodded in agreement. He loved seeing the longing in his uncle's eyes for his wife. He saw them as a clear example of the true love he had never found in his life.
"It was a gift from Mrs. Seven."
Louis's smile shrank an inch, though Albert, who adjusted his body to his, noticed with a calm, kind look. "She's a good woman, Louis. She was my only companion after Anna's death, and her presence alone helped me through my grief. Even this portrait, she painted for me as a token of her support and in honor of Anna's spirit. She may be different from the model of woman you've matured into in your mind, but I can assure you, she's unlike any woman you'll ever meet."
Louis didn't contradict his uncle's talk this time, but lowered his eyes and listened.
Perhaps his raw feelings for the blonde were a fragile layer formed from his grandmother, Harold, and the others' talk about her. Perhaps she was right that everyone talked about things they didn't know about. Why believe other people's gossip when he could have his own vision?
Perhaps she really was unlike any woman he'd ever meet .