Chapter 159
“My goodness, Miss.”
Mary’s warm, rough hand closed firmly around Vanessa’s slender, pale wrist.
It was the most she could offer—comfort, closeness, perhaps even tears shared together. That alone was everything, given her nature.
Vanessa gave a small smile. It was so very like Mary.
“For now, I should get examined by someone discreet. We might be mistaken, after all.”
“……”
“And if…”
Vanessa stepped closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. Her innocent eyes, filled with quiet desperation, lifted toward her maid.
“If you truly want to help me and if it won’t put you in danger… could you tell me when my uncle leaves his study?”
Silence stretched between them. It wasn’t hesitation.
It felt more like Mary was engraving this moment into her memory. The slanting sunlight in the room, the lingering heat of summer, the small space between their bodies.
Mary’s fingers tightened painfully around Vanessa’s wrist, her lashes trembling faintly.
“……”
With her free hand, Mary gently traced the delicate line of Vanessa’s jaw. Her fingers drifted upward, hesitated, then softly brushed against her full lips.
Feeling the slow breath escaping them, Mary closed her eyes briefly, as if letting out a quiet sigh. Like someone standing before something fragile… and precious.
“……”
When she opened her eyes again, every trace of softness had vanished.
“In two days. He has an appointment with the Count of Essex, from morning until evening.”
“In two days…”
“He usually locks the study when he leaves. I know where the key is kept. I’ll help you just this once.”
The maid slowly released Vanessa’s wrist. Her face was dry again.
“So get a grip. I’ll… be looking out for myself from now on.”
* * *
[To River Ross.
I hope you’ve been well. You might be wondering why I’m suddenly writing you a letter, but when I thought about it, I realized I don’t even know how to contact you. By the time I finish writing this, perhaps I’ll think of a way to get it to you. If not, maybe I can send it through the Admiralty. In times like this, I’m oddly grateful that your identity is backed by the state.
Anyway, I don’t know when or where you’ll receive this letter, but I hope you’re in good health. Because I think I might—]
Vanessa, who had been absently moving her pen, suddenly stopped.
She reread what she had written. It felt too long before getting to the point. Too scattered. Too much like a stream of consciousness. She crumpled the letter.
[River Ross. Don’t be surprised when you read this. I think I might be pregnant.]
…Too blunt.
It was too centered on the pregnancy. Well, it was the truth, but she couldn’t just throw that at him the moment he unfolded the letter.
[The garden you left behind feels rather lonely—]
…Too sentimental.
‘I’ve really lost my mind.’
Her cheeks flushed as she crushed the paper again, then groaned and dropped her forehead onto the desk. She clearly wasn’t in the right state to write.
Even the manuscript she had sent yesterday had been full of strange, nonsensical lines, she had caught herself midway and erased them over and over again.
With a sigh, she straightened up.
She dipped her worn fountain pen into the ink, then faced a fresh sheet of paper once more. From the small graveyard of crumpled drafts, Vanessa managed to salvage something usable.
[Dear River Ross,
Please send your reply to the hotel address from which you last called me. I hope this news won’t be too much of a burden to you. It seems I may be with child. There is something I would like to discuss with you regarding this, so I hope you will return as soon as possible on the date we agreed upon.]
She hesitated over whether to add “Yours, Vanessa.”
Instead, she began writing the Y—then scratched over it, turning it into a V. A blot of ink marred the otherwise elegant script, but there was no time to start over.
Mary would be arriving soon.
