Chapter 42
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Chapter 42
Fortunately, the pungent odor that had made my head spin dissipated without a trace as I conversed with Harrison and Philip, as if it had never been there at all.
Shortly after Helena and Bianca excused themselves, Harrison likewise seemed to have no further reason to linger, offering his farewells to Philip and me.
"Philip mentioned that you are the most witty and intelligent lady in Brentwood. It has been an honor to make your acquaintance. Well then, I shall take my leave to greet the other guests."
Harrison offered me a perfunctory bow before briefly placing a hand on Philip's shoulder and departing. Like so many gentlemen I had encountered, he appeared to have merely seized upon Philip's offer of introduction as a pretext to mingle with the lovely Helena and Bianca.
Once Harrison had vanished entirely among the throng of people filling the ballroom, Philip turned to me with a question.
"What did you make of Harrison?"
"Well, that is... Mr. Oslo, did you not notice an odd smell?"
I drew closer to Philip, my expression still one of shock. At my sudden movement toward him, a faint blush crept across Philip's ears.
"A smell? No, I did not notice anything..."
Philip answered with some bewilderment, and I nodded knowingly in response.
"When Mr. Harrison first approached me, I caught a peculiar scent—the smell of blood, or something like a wound. What is stranger still is that the odor vanished completely almost immediately."
I merely shook my head, recalling the memory of that acrid, metallic stench that had made my head reel.
To me, it was not merely an ordinary foul odor, but rather a signal or an omen of something.
'Moreover, I can see Prince Leopold, whom no one else can perceive. So might not this scent, which only I can detect, be connected to Prince Leopold's circumstances?'
As if remembering something, I looked up at Philip once more.
"Mr. Oslo, you mentioned that the Search Party would visit the porters' quarters tomorrow? And that you would soon discover who the hired hand was that gave the apple wine? If any information about Mr. Harrison comes to light in the process, would you inform me at that time...?"
"Of course, Miss Charlotte. I shall inform you of any information whatsoever with the utmost haste."
Philip answered promptly, like an obedient dog. But only for a moment—his shoulders, which had been held rigid with tension, gradually relaxed as he studied Charlotte's face.
"I... even though I confirmed multiple times that you said you would attend my ball, I still worried you might not come."
"That's impossible. We agreed I'd be introduced to Harrison at this ball."
Charlotte replied matter-of-factly, and Philip let out a soft laugh with an exclamation of acknowledgment.
"Well, that's true, but..."
A shadow of sadness flickered across Philip's face as he hesitated to continue.
"I was simply delighted that I could finally dance with you—the dance we promised at Prince Leopold's welcome reception."
This time, it was Charlotte who gasped in surprise at Philip's words. Just as she had suspected yesterday, it seemed Philip genuinely harbored affection for her.
Whether Philip knew of her thoughts or not, he spoke with a bashful smile spreading across his face.
"So please, if only for a moment, set aside thoughts of the investigation and honor the promise you made to me—to share the first dance of the ball with me."
Charlotte's mind was still clouded by the crimson scent Harrison had left behind, yet she could not bring herself to ignore the clarity in Philip's eyes. As she awkwardly nodded her consent, a beautiful waltz began to play, as if it had been waiting for this very moment.
Philip gently took Charlotte's hand and led her to the center of the ballroom.
"Nearly two months have passed, and at last I stand here holding your hand. Every single day of that wait feels worthwhile now."
Philip whispered softly, carefully clasping Charlotte's hand. Charlotte's face flushed at his tender words, yet she fumbled, uncertain how to respond. Philip gazed at her with evident affection and spoke.
"Since we agreed not to discuss the investigation, I have a personal question for you."
Philip's hand came to rest gently at Charlotte's waist. His lead was precise and dignified, befitting a soldier. It was strikingly different from Leopold—fluid and free as a meteor streaking across the night sky.
"From what I've learned, many ladies wish to love and marry someone they can respect. Do you agree with that sentiment?"
"I... well... someone I can respect?"
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, repeating his question. Her delicate brown eyebrows, curled like fern fronds, looked utterly endearing. Philip gazed at her with tenderness and began to explain.
"Someone respectable means someone intelligent, dignified, and of high social standing. They might be physically attractive, or possess great talent. And as a marriage prospect, it would be all the better if they possessed the wit to bring joy to a lady."
Beyond Philip's voice, a crisp waltz played—the opening melody of the Ball itself.
"I imagine Miss Charlotte would wish to welcome such a man as her husband, would you not?"
Philip tilted his sharp chin upward to meet her gaze as he posed the question. At that, Charlotte found herself instinctively averting her eyes from his affectionate stare.
"...I'm not entirely certain."
Charlotte replied. Intelligent, attractive in appearance, possessed of high social standing—she recognized the very man Philip described. Yet simultaneously, she found herself unable to define her feelings toward Leopold by such mere conditions alone.
"I'm not sure it's possible to love someone for reasons like those you've mentioned."
As Charlotte spoke with uncertain conviction, a passage from a book surfaced in her mind—one she had discovered while following the reading habits of Leopold, a verse concerning love itself.
'Love is not something that changes upon encountering change, nor does it vanish alongside that which seeks to disappear.*'
(Excerpted and adapted from Sonnets to a Young Lover*)
Charlotte continued.
"Beauty in bloom is destined to fade, and brilliance of mind grows dull with the passage of time. Even lofty social standing can one day crumble into obscurity...."
Charlotte turned gracefully to the rhythm of the music, yet for a first dance, she displayed no trace of nervousness whatsoever. As she pivoted back toward Philip, she spoke.
"So if one were to love someone for reasons that can change, would that love not also be susceptible to change or disappearance?"
Philip's expression shifted to one of mild surprise.
"Ah, so that is how you perceive it, Miss Charlotte...."
Philip thought she seemed somewhat more serious than when he had first met her. Yet he found this present version—wise and erudite—far closer to the Charlotte he truly knew than the troublemaker her reputation suggested.
Philip composed himself and posed another question.
"Then what sort of man do you envision marrying, Miss Charlotte? Unchanging qualities would be a rather difficult condition to find, would they not?"
'Conditions....'
Charlotte blinked her eyes.
Aunt Elicia once told me that following where the wind blows and where one's heart leads is far more difficult than believing in what one can see.
'Both the wind and the human heart often seem lighter than anything else. That's why trusting them and following them is frightening.'
As I paused in thought, the final passage of the dance melody played behind me.
"I believe the heart is what matters most."
As the music drew to a close, I whispered these words.
"The wealth, talent, appearance, and fame that Leopold mentioned—those can become impossible to maintain as time passes. But my heart is something I can always choose for myself."
There was a reason I had given Philip such an enigmatic answer when he asked about my conditions for a marriage partner.
'The wind may weaken, but with a little patience, it will blow again someday. A heart that resembles the wind is no different.'
The wind and the heart, which seemed to change constantly, were actually the most eternal things compared to the conditions Philip had mentioned. They merely adjusted their strength and temperature to match their changing surroundings, but unlike the visible, worldly conditions, they neither aged nor faded.
'As I can see from Aunt Elicia, who still loves her late husband even after all these years, perhaps the heart is the one thing that does not change even when faced with change, and does not disappear even as other things fade away.'
The music ended completely, and everyone who had danced to the first song of the ball applauded. But Philip, known for his impeccable manners, forgot even to clap as he gazed at me. My brown eyes held a warm certainty. I spoke.
"So I just need someone who can promise their heart to me in return."
I spoke with a light expression, as though I had just realized something.
'Status, wealth, appearance... perhaps even the boundary between death and life—they are all nothing compared to the heart we give each other.'
For the first time since entering the ballroom, I offered a radiant smile.
The applause gradually faded, and I too bowed respectfully to Philip, my dance partner. Through our conversation, I had come to understand what mattered most to me. And throughout that exchange, Leopold's image—lingering in my mind—became the confirmation of my unchanging heart, regardless of what circumstances or conditions he might face.
In that moment, as I lifted my gaze, I caught sight of a tall, graceful silhouette disappearing beyond the Oslo Duke's Corridor at the far end of the ballroom.
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