Chapter 34
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Chapter 34
A long silence settled over the Drawing Room at the Augusta Estate. Philip stared at Charlotte with an expression caught between bewilderment and shock, as if unable to process what he'd just heard.
Charlotte quickly added to her explanation.
"So, Count Oslo has likely heard of necromancers—those who claim to see ghosts and commune with spirits."
Necromancer. It was a word that would make Helena cross herself in horror. Besides, Charlotte herself recognized that calling herself a "necromancer" or claiming to possess the ability to see ghosts was inaccurate. She could see only Leopold's spirit, not the spirits of others.
"I seem to be someone with an ability somewhat similar to that."
Yet Charlotte found herself fumbling for words, lacking any proper way to explain her gift. Philip, somehow grasping her meaning despite her hesitation, broke the heavy silence.
"If I understand correctly... you're saying you've seen a spirit connected to Prince Leopold?"
His voice was thick with shock and confusion, but Charlotte felt a wave of relief that he hadn't immediately laughed or stormed from the room.
"Yes, something along those lines did occur."
"Miss Charlotte, I..."
Philip, his eyebrows deeply furrowed as he listened, suddenly drew in a sharp breath through his nose.
"Ah..."
At the sound of a sigh she'd never heard from Philip before, Charlotte spoke urgently.
"I understand your shock. Some people—pragmatists, that is—don't believe in ghosts or necromancy at all. But..."
Had I made a mistake? Perhaps I should have followed Armand's advice and held my tongue, waiting for the investigation's results instead. A torrent of doubts flooded through Charlotte's mind.
"Philip Oslo genuinely wishes to find Prince Leopold, doesn't he? So even if you can't believe me right now, would you at least hear me out about the clues I have regarding the Prince's whereabouts?"
But Charlotte couldn't rely solely on the sluggish Search Party. That was why she had to criticize their incompetence and appeal to Philip, who held the position of a naval officer and could participate in the search efforts.
"...Please, Philip Oslo."
As Charlotte added her plea in an earnest voice, Philip lifted his gaze to meet hers.
"...Very well."
Charlotte was astonished by Philip's unexpectedly willing response. Here she was, a lady claiming to know the whereabouts of a neighboring prince—she herself could scarcely believe it at times.
Perhaps reading the shock in Charlotte's heart, Philip whispered alongside a quiet sigh.
"I trust you, Charlotte. So...I will hear what clue you wish to offer me."
His expression seemed pained as he spoke. Philip could not rationally accept Charlotte's claim of seeing ghosts, yet emotionally he longed to believe in her—caught between these two warring impulses.
"So what Philip Oslo must understand is...."
Seizing the opportunity, Charlotte spoke swiftly. Her mind held carefully organized facts she had considered last night while spending time with Leopold—details that might aid the investigation.
"His Highness Leopold would never hide himself before such a crucial conference. He has far too important a reason—the independence of Holland and the formation of the United Kingdom."
That vital reason was freedom itself. Time for him, who had lived his entire life as the perfect prince, to live as Leopold the man rather than as His Highness. The freedom to feel the wind stirring in his heart.
"And I believe His Highness disappeared the night before the gallery exhibition at the Oslo Estate. Until that afternoon—until before His Highness retired for the evening—he was safe."
Such intimate details were impossible to know, no matter how convincingly she lied about being Prince Leopold's lover. Charlotte continued with conviction in her voice.
"What I know is that nothing happened to His Highness before he fell asleep that night. He retired as he always did, and no one was in his chambers. I'm told he didn't even take dinner that evening. But before sleep, he drank a nightcap...."
Hearing Leopold's account of falling into an unusually deep sleep that night, Charlotte had begun to wonder if there might be something amiss with the nightcap he had consumed. Just as she was about to voice this suspicion, Philip spoke in a tone of disbelief.
"You... learned all of this through necromancy?"
Even as Philip furrowed his brow, he meticulously recorded the information Charlotte provided on the paper he had brought.
"I understand it's difficult to believe. I could be fabricating this entire story, or perhaps it seems suspicious."
Charlotte spoke with anxious hope as she watched Philip's notes. She desperately wanted him to believe her and pursue the investigation.
"But with no leads at present...please, even if you must suspend disbelief, will you investigate based on what I'm telling you? Don't accept the theory that His Highness disappeared of his own volition."
"Miss Charlotte..."
At Charlotte's earnest and urgent tone, Philip set down his notes and regarded her quietly. His blue eyes, which had seemed merely confused moments before, now appeared warm and gentle in the bright morning sunlight.
Philip spoke in his customary gentle voice.
"I am well aware of the considerable risks you are taking to speak with me in this manner. Therefore, I do not believe you would fabricate such words merely to mock me. I simply..."
Philip shook his head lightly once more before continuing.
"This necromancy you speak of—are you saying you communicate directly with His Highness Leopold's spirit?"
"Well..."
Charlotte hesitated for a moment. Though she had never witnessed practitioners of necromancy, she sensed they could not see Leopold as she did, nor speak with him, nor touch him as she could.
'Yet I find myself unwilling to reveal how His Highness and I spend our time together...'
She wished to preserve the secret she shared with Leopold alone—a memory that might be part of her own fantasy.
"No, that is not quite it. I merely receive fragments of His Highness Leopold's memories. My understanding is therefore limited."
"I see..."
Philip's expression showed a hint of disappointment at her answer.
"I understand well enough. I do trust you, Miss Charlotte, but this is such an extraordinary tale that I simply require time to reflect upon it..."
As Philip carefully rolled up his notes, Charlotte nodded in agreement. She understood that it was difficult for him to believe her immediately. How absurd the story sounded—had she told anyone else that she perceived the spirit of a neighboring kingdom's prince with whom she had no connection, they would surely have deemed her mad. Thus Charlotte was grateful for Philip's composed response.
As Philip turned to leave the drawing room, he paused. When he glanced back, he noticed Charlotte trembling slightly beside the sofa.
"Miss Charlotte... regardless of what conclusion I reach, I shall never speak of this matter to anyone. My regard for you will not change because of it."
At Philip's kind words, Charlotte's eyes grew moist. Hearing him speak thus, she suddenly realized how great a risk she had taken. Had Philip not received her claim of being a necromancer with such flexibility, she would have lost not only his kindness, but also her honor as a lady.
'Perhaps I might have been suspected as a dubious person, just as Armand was.'
Philip turned and bowed to Charlotte once more with utmost courtesy. As she acknowledged his bow with a slight nod, Charlotte finally released a small sigh of relief.
***
Dear Miss Charlotte,
I hope my words from our last conversation have not left you angry with me.
I confess I bristled at your suggestion that I was doubting my own loyalty to His Highness—a wound I did not know I carried. In truth, I understand perfectly well your desire that I throw myself more actively into the search for him. Your concern comes from a place I cannot fault.
Each day, from dawn until dusk, I am torn between two thoughts. One demands that I hold my post for His Highness's political interests; the other screams at me to cast aside this guise of a secret knight and summon every soul he encountered during his time in London for interrogation. His Highness would know what is right. Instead, I am paralyzed—a pitiful creature caught between two worlds. I suspect you see me as such as well.
If you had told me what was right, I could have known. I'm pathetic, anxious and unable to move forward or backward like this. You probably think the same of me too...
But understand this one thing. The reason I'm holding onto my position right now is because of my faith that Your Highness is alive and will return soon. If the search continues just a bit longer, Your Highness will surely come back, but if all the political achievements made here have come to nothing by then... I would have no face to show Your Highness.
So I've decided not to abandon my disguise as a secret knight just yet, and to continue carrying out the political mission you've left for me.
I have learned that the Archbishop of London will soon hold a mass at the Royal Court's behest, one that earnestly seeks Leopold's safe return. I intend to persuade the Nobility Council to invite Crown Prince Frederick of Holland, who is coming to London, to attend. Should a foreign crown prince participate in such a service, the Search Party will have no choice but to reinforce their efforts and pursue the investigation with far greater urgency, if only to deliver results.
As far as I know, the Archbishop of London will soon hold a mass at the Royal Court's command, praying for the search of His Highness Leopold. I'm thinking of persuading the Nobility Council to invite Crown Prince Frederick, who was scheduled to come to London, to attend. If the Crown Prince of Holland participates in a mass in a foreign country, the Search Party will have to supplement their personnel and conduct their investigation more seriously, no matter what results they have to report.
Miss Aurie—no, Miss Charlotte. There's more I can do for His Highness Leopold right now than just wielding this indirect influence. It's to protect and support you well, as his beloved. So whenever you need my help with anything, just say the word.
Armand.
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