Chapter 15
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Chapter 15
Clatter—clatter—
The Augusta Family's weathered carriage rolled through the streets of Brentwood and turned onto the shortcut leading toward London. According to Helena, it was also a hunting path belonging to the Rochefort Family.
As Charlotte, draped in a pale pink dress with a dark blue cloak, peered curiously out the window, Helena—who had been reading sheet music—offered a reproach.
"What are you staring at so intently, Charlotte? We still have quite a distance before we reach London."
Helena wore a blue dress that complemented her brilliantly cascading golden hair. Since she planned to purchase new sheet music in London, a black leather satchel for storing music sat in her hands.
Helena continued speaking.
"Bianca was stubborn enough to insist on bringing you along, but you're not planning to cause any trouble, are you? While I'm visiting shops in London, you must remain in one place without wandering. Do you understand?"
Helena fretted because Charlotte's expression from moments ago had seemed unsettling. Yet Charlotte merely ignored her scolding and continued gazing out the window.
Suddenly, Charlotte let out a faint exclamation.
"Oh!"
A gray marble building emerged between the dense trees of the hunting grounds. The structure was surrounded by French roses shedding their petals in the height of late summer—a sight befitting the Rochefort Manor, known for its French origins and extravagant tastes.
Charlotte broke into a satisfied smile, then suddenly seized the front of her dress and cried out.
"Oh, Helena, my stomach suddenly hurts terribly! Oh, my belly!"
Helena jolted at Charlotte's shriek and lifted her head. Then she caught sight of Charlotte tumbling to the carriage floor. Charlotte pounded on the carriage wall and shouted.
"Ah, please, stop the carriage! Quickly!"
"What? Charlotte? What on earth is happening!"
Helena was utterly startled to see Charlotte, who had been perfectly fine moments before, suddenly screaming at the top of her lungs.
Soon the coachman brought the carriage to a halt and opened the door. Charlotte tumbled out with exaggerated dramatics, her voice dripping with distress.
"Oh, oh my... my stomach aches terribly. I fear I cannot take even a single step from this spot."
Helena quickly descended after Charlotte, her voice tinged with concern.
"Charlotte, then you must return to the carriage at once. We shall go home immediately and summon a physician..."
"No, no, that simply won't do!"
Charlotte cut off Helena's words with urgent haste.
"Well, you see, now that I think of it, not only my stomach but my head aches as well, Helena. The carriage's jolting will only worsen my headache dreadfully."
Charlotte leaned against the carriage standing alone in the hunting grounds, pressing her delicate wrist to her forehead as though she might collapse at any moment.
Helena found Charlotte's demeanor oddly reminiscent of how she had appeared in Count Oslo's corridor, breathless and faint. Yet the coachman, unaware of this, fretted anxiously.
"Miss, what shall we do then? Shall I fetch a physician from the city...?"
At the coachman's words, Charlotte paused as though considering, then answered with resignation.
"No, that is not it... Rather, might you go to that manor yonder and fetch us merely a glass of water?"
Charlotte pointed toward the entrance of the manor before them.
"Please tell the master of the house that two ladies find themselves stranded here and would be most grateful for a place to rest and take some water. You must convey this directly to the master himself, do you understand? It is most important!"
The servant nodded and hastened toward the manor. Helena, having heard Charlotte's oddly detailed instructions, furrowed her brow. At this, Charlotte promptly let out another groan of affliction.
"Mmm, mmm. Oh dear, my stomach, or rather, my head..."
While watching Helena's expression, Charlotte produced an ornately decorated fan of the sort one might use at a ball—though when she had prepared it remained a mystery—and waved it with exaggerated flourish. Her gestures were theatrical enough to be visible from the manor's entrance.
'They say Rochefort has a reputation as a libertine, do they not? Then he would surely not pass up the opportunity to aid young ladies without a guardian.'
Shortly thereafter, as Charlotte had anticipated, the servant returned with permission from Rochefort Manor. Along with water, freshly brewed tea and cake were offered, and Armand Rochefort's message assured them they were welcome to remain at the manor as long as they wished.
***
"Welcome, ladies!"
Armand Rochefort was a man with reddish-brown, wiry hair that fell to his jawline. Though such a hairstyle would ordinarily seem ill-suited to a gentleman, his sharp jawline, delicate features, and the lean musculature subtly revealed beneath his flamboyant shirt evoked the image of a popular handsome theatrical actor.
"I was just worrying whether I'd have to take my tea alone, and now such lovely young ladies grace me with a visit!"
Armand Rochefort spread both arms wide in the drawing room to welcome the Augusta sisters. It was a gesture entirely unbefitting an English gentleman—far too free and uninhibited.
Helena frowned at the sight of the drawing room, decorated with an almost excessive extravagance, and at Armand in his thin shirt that boldly outlined the contours of his body.
Helena spoke with the utmost courtesy.
"We are grateful for your welcome, but we cannot impose upon someone to whom we have not been formally introduced. We need only a glass of water...."
"Wait, Helena!"
Charlotte cut off her sister's words, anxious that Helena might ruin this carefully arranged meeting with Armand.
"Helena, though we have not been formally introduced, the Baron Rochefort is displaying most gentlemanly conduct in coming to a lady's aid in an urgent situation. Surely we cannot refuse his kindness?"
Charlotte spoke with measured precision, as though she had consulted an etiquette manual's 'exceptions' section beforehand. Then she turned to Armand with a radiant smile.
"Baron Rochefort, thank you for receiving us. Though I've imposed upon you with this sudden headache, having such pleasant company already seems to be easing the pain."
For Charlotte, building rapport with Armand was essential. Given his reputation for frivolous behavior, once they grew closer, he would surely share what he knew about Leopold's true enemy.
Armand responded with an equally radiant smile.
"Ah, I understand perfectly, Miss Charlotte Augusta. Unlike Southern France where I was raised, England's sky is dreary and dull. Staring at it constantly would give even me a headache!"
True to his reputation as a flirt, he seemed delighted by this lady's eager initiative. His eyes drifted past his sleek reddish-brown hair to Helena's music case, and he spoke with easy charm.
"Then while the tea is being prepared, might I show you ladies around the manor? The Rochefort family has cherished the arts for generations, and we possess London's largest music room."
Delighted by his proposal, Charlotte followed him with brisk, energetic steps, as though she had never rolled across a carriage floor. Helena, hesitant at first, soon found herself standing before the Rochefort family's grand music room.
"My goodness! Oh my!"
Yet it was not Charlotte, but Helena who had let out such an exuberant exclamation. The Music Room of the Rochefort Manor was furnished far more lavishly than the studies and drawing rooms of most noble houses, and Helena had become positively entranced upon glimpsing the Broadwood Company piano positioned at its center.
(*Broadwood: A company renowned throughout the 18th and 19th centuries for pioneering the grand piano.)
Armand Rochefort observed Helena clenching and unclenching her fists as though she might rush to the instrument at any moment, and he whispered to her in a honeyed voice.
"Though I came to England at a tender age, I was born in Southern France, and a passion for the arts flows through my very blood. It seems the lovely Helena shares this sentiment. What say you—would you grace my new piano with a performance?"
Charlotte felt relief wash over her as she watched Helena nod her head vigorously before the costly, state-of-the-art instrument.
'I had been searching for an opportunity to speak with the Baron of Rochefort alone, and now Helena will be absorbed in the Music Room. How fortunate that matters are unfolding so smoothly.'
Soon Helena took her seat at the piano with composed dignity and began to play, while Armand naturally drew closer to Charlotte's side. Following her carefully laid plan, Charlotte addressed him with a light smile and gentle tone.
"Thank you once more for welcoming us, Monsieur Rochefort."
"That is my father's title. Simply call me Armand. I confess I rather enjoy hearing ladies speak my given name."
Armand offered a deliberately seductive expression and winked at Charlotte. Though his casual familiarity was not entirely to her liking, Charlotte allowed a soft laugh to escape her lips.
"Oh my, how delightful. In any case, the world has grown so unsettling of late. That is precisely why your invitation has been such a welcome respite."
And Charlotte, feigning indifference, broached the subject of Leopold.
"Indeed, have you heard? A neighboring kingdom's prince has gone missing recently. Monsieur Armand, have you perhaps heard the news?"
"You mean Prince Leopold of Holland?"
Armand leisurely summoned a servant standing before the Music Room and ordered a glass of wine, then posed the question in return. Charlotte endured his increasingly casual manner and continued.
"Ah, that's right, his name was Leopold. Um, by any chance, do you know Mr. Armand well? Ah, both Mr. Armand and Prince Leopold spent their childhoods in England despite not being English... I was just wondering if perhaps two noble gentlemen with similar backgrounds might be acquainted."
"Ah, of course I know him. When His Highness was studying in England, I was among the noble youths with whom he maintained correspondence. This is rather confidential, but in fact, the Prince and I met just before his disappearance."
Armand was indeed fond of boasting of his connections to the celebrated, precisely as Philip had suggested.
"Is that so? Then when you last saw the Prince in London, that would have been...when exactly?"
Charlotte fanned herself with animated gestures, yet her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence—the prospect of extracting valuable information from Armand clearly sharpened her faculties.
"...."
Armand Rochefort, who had been proudly boasting of his friendship with Leopold while sipping the wine the servant had brought, paused momentarily before responding to Charlotte. She waited anxiously for the glass to leave his lips.
After swallowing the wine, Armand spoke.
"...How peculiar, Miss Charlotte."
Strangely, the laughter that had been constant in Armand's low voice had vanished entirely.
"Everyone knows that the day His Highness Leopold arrived in England was the day of Count Oslo's welcoming reception.... Yet somehow, Miss Charlotte Augusta speaks as though you knew His Highness had been in London beforehand."
At Armand's cold tone, Charlotte's pupils trembled ever so slightly.
"Could it merely be an innocent slip of the tongue from a young lady?"
Armand raised his wine glass again with a thin smile.
"That you, who pretended not to even know His Highness Leopold's name, are aware he spent his childhood in England—is that also mere coincidence?"
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org