Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 10

10. Reunion and Explanation

“Oh my, my beloved Richard!”

Lady Mary Montague entered the drawing room with her arms outstretched, her bright green eyes—so similar to Richard’s—sparkling with delight.

“Aunt.”

Richard rose from his seat. He had just arrived at the Montague mansion in Lydon.

It had been years since he’d last seen Mary Montague, and to his relief, she looked much healthier than he had feared. Though she appeared thinner than before, her rosy complexion and vibrant glow were reassuring.

“How long has it been? My, you’ve truly become a man. When did you grow so tall?”

Mary clasped both of Richard’s hands, showering him with praise. She cupped his cheeks, rising on her toes to plant quick, light kisses on his face. She even patted his firm, muscular backside a couple of times.

Though Richard flinched at her affectionate gestures, he endured them well. For someone like Richard Spencer, who detested close physical contact with others, Mary was likely the only person he would tolerate.

“Have you been well?”

“Oh, of course. I’ve been absolutely wonderful. Turkan’s weather is unbelievably lovely—heavenly compared to dreary Ingrint. And you?”

“As always, I’m fine.”

Richard replied as he guided Mary to the sofa, placing his arm gently around her shoulders.

Mary Montague’s cheerful and lively nature undoubtedly suited Turkan’s dry, sunny climate far better than the damp and cold of this place, which was shrouded in humidity for eight-tenths of the year.

Seeing Mary’s bright smile brought a rare grin to Richard’s face. For a brief moment, he set aside his complicated feelings regarding her adopted daughter, enjoying their reunion. It had been a long time since he had smiled so sincerely.

“Yes, you always say you’re fine.”

“Because it’s true.”

Mary, who had been escorted to her seat, studied her nephew with a penetrating gaze. Handsome and composed, Richard Spencer sat across from her, crossing his legs with an elegant smile that radiated confidence. To any observer, he seemed utterly fine.

But Mary knew better than anyone the rotten roots beneath Richard Spencer’s imposing and abundant exterior—the hidden vulnerabilities that no one else could see.

Buried beneath the surface, unseen by the world, these roots might one day be pruned by a skilled gardener. If that gardener turned out to be Eleanor, Richard’s betrothed, so much the better.

“By the way, what are your plans after graduation?”

Mary asked suddenly, blowing on her tea to cool it. Richard carefully considered his answer.

“I haven’t given it much thought yet.”

This wasn’t a lie. Richard had deliberately postponed his return to Lydon for as long as possible, reluctant to assume the responsibilities of the Young Earl. Often, he wished he could avoid returning to the Spencer estate altogether. But such wishes were futile.

As the heir to the Spencer family, Richard’s destiny was tied to that estate, the place where he would spend his life.

“I see. So, no specific plans yet?”

“That’s correct.”

Mary smiled knowingly at Richard, her expression laced with significance. Then she spoke again.

“I’m not sure if you’ve already heard…”

“……”

“But you probably have. Graham Harold wouldn’t have kept quiet about it.”

Mary chuckled, thinking of the talkative Marchioness of Winchester, Graham’s mother.

“I’ve decided to adopt a daughter.”

Though Richard had already heard about this from Graham, hearing it directly from Mary felt different. He carefully maintained a neutral expression.

“The social circles were ready to faint with shock.”

Mary laughed again, recalling the stunned expressions of the ladies at her tea party shortly after returning to Ingrint.

“…Congratulations, Aunt.”

Richard masked his true feelings.

“It’s only natural they’d be surprised.”

He responded with carefully chosen words. Though he harbored suspicions about the adopted daughter’s identity and any unsavory truths that might lie behind this decision, he refrained from voicing them.

“You must be curious about what they said afterward.”

“……”

To deny his curiosity would have been a lie, so Richard chose not to respond.

“First, the girl isn’t Anthony’s illegitimate child. You know as well as I do that he’s not that kind of man. That’s precisely why I married him.”

“That’s a relief.”

Richard genuinely meant it. Mary Montague’s clear explanation was enough to quell his doubts. There was no need for him to investigate further.

Mary had anticipated Richard’s concerns and had spoken to address them, subtly conveying that no further interference or probing was necessary.

“And one more thing—none of the rumors surrounding her are true. It’s all nonsense spread by gossiping women who talk just for the sake of it.”

“I see.”

“She’s truly an innocent and kind-hearted girl.”

However, Richard decided to reserve judgment on this matter. He had never met her in person, and his aunt had always been overly generous in her evaluations of those in less fortunate circumstances.

“The truth is, Grace doesn’t even know about this yet. Anthony and I had disagreements over the matter. He’s been adamantly opposed to the adoption. I suppose he’s uncomfortable with the idea of taking in a fully grown young lady. It took a great deal of effort to persuade him. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a wall, not a person.”

Mary winked playfully as she said this, her affection for her husband evident. Richard felt relieved that he had refrained from bringing up the matter of illegitimacy earlier. Anthony Montague was a thoughtful man, and it was likely that he had given the matter of adoption considerable thought before ultimately conceding to his wife’s wishes.

“Her name is Grace, then?”

“Yes, Grace. Grace Gurton. Once she’s legally adopted, she’ll be known as Grace Montague.”

“Gurton…?”

Richard leaned forward slightly at the mention of the surname. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but it wasn’t particularly well-known to him either.

“Gurton—what region is that name associated with?”

Mary laughed and shook her head at Richard’s question.

“She’s not of noble birth. But you’ve likely heard the name before.”

“I can’t quite recall.”

“I must have told you about Annabel, Anthony’s cousin. The man she married bore the surname Gurton.”

“……”

Ah. Richard let out a low sigh at Mary’s explanation. Annabel Gurton, born Annabel Lovelace, was a woman whose name and deeds had become something of a refrain in high society’s gossip circles for over twenty years.

“I thought she had left Ingrint?”

“She did. She and her husband boarded a ship bound for Aire.”

“So, they’ve returned?”

“Unfortunately, no. Both Annabel and her husband passed away.”

“…I see.”

Richard quickly grasped the situation. Lowering his gaze, he gave a small nod.

The girl Mary Montague had been eager to take in was the daughter of her old friend and Anthony Montague’s cousin. With both parents deceased, it wasn’t surprising that the Montagues felt a sense of duty to care for the child of someone like Annabel.

“Life in Aire must have been difficult for her. I’ve heard Annabel’s husband died before Grace was even born. And Annabel herself succumbed to smallpox.”

“……”

“It was the same strain of smallpox that caused a terrible epidemic years ago.”

Mary’s words hung in the air as she observed Richard’s expression. That disease had not only taken Annabel’s life but had also robbed Richard Spencer of much of his confidence and self-esteem.

“How tragic.”

Richard feigned indifference, his voice steady. He was not the only one who had suffered the ravages of that dreadful disease. Objectively, he had been lucky to survive such a severe illness.

That epidemic had claimed nearly half the continent’s population. Those fortunate enough to survive often faced severe aftereffects. Some bore disfiguring scars; others lost their vision or suffered from deformed limbs.

“It’s heartbreaking. And to make matters worse, after Annabel’s death, Grace was sent to a poorhouse. She had no family or relatives in Aire to care for her. Imagine, the daughter of a noblewoman ending up in such a place…”

Mary’s voice faltered as she struggled to contain her emotions. A dry cough escaped her lips, and she began to shake as her body was wracked with spasms. Richard jumped up from his chair, alarmed.

“I’m fine.”

Mary raised a hand to stop him. Once Richard had settled back into his seat, she sipped her tea to soothe her throat and continued her explanation.

“After bringing her to Ingrint, I entrusted her care to Professor Charles Dodgson at Grentabridge.”

“Did you say Professor Charles Dodgson?”

Richard’s surprise was evident in his voice. He had taken one of Dodgson’s lectures last semester and was well-acquainted with the professor’s reputation.

Before attending his class, Richard had heard plenty about Charles Dodgson, known as the “madman of Christ Church College” and one of the most eccentric figures in all of Grentabridge.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but when Grace first arrived, she was in no condition to meet new people. Afterward, I spent most of my time in Turkan, so I didn’t have the opportunity.”

“So, is she currently at Grentabridge?”

The mention of Dodgson and Grentabridge left Richard feeling unsettled. He wondered if he might have crossed paths with Grace during his three years there without realizing it.

Suddenly, the image of a woman he had noticed in the lecture hall and at rugby matches flashed through his mind. It was an instinctual, almost animalistic feeling—an intuition akin to a lion’s.

“No, Grace is here now.”

“In Lydon, you mean?”

“Yes, in Lydon, and specifically, within Montague Mansion.”

Mary’s tone brimmed with anticipation as she added, “I’d like to introduce you to Grace.”