Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 135

135. Side Story IV

“I can’t help but think that the Young Madam’s health might not be in perfect condition.”

“Health?”

This time, Richard felt as though he might actually leap out of his skin. Hadn’t he just recently saved her from the risk of tuberculosis? The back of his head, struck by Theresius Wilford, seemed to ache anew.

“Look at animals. When their bodies aren’t in good condition, they hide and sleep, don’t they?”

“Animals…”

Richard paced nervously along the lakeside with a restless expression. Sebastian, adopting an equally somber look, continued speaking.

“When I was young, there was a dog I raised back in my hometown. Its name was Ginger. It had red fur, you see. So when I first met you, Young Master, it reminded me of Ginger.”

“……”

“But one day, Ginger started hiding in a corner and sleeping all the time. It had always been such an active dog, loved running around, flipping over on its back, even jumping into the water. But suddenly, it stopped doing all that.”

“……”

“The reason Ginger behaved that way was…”

“Sebastian.”

As Sebastian nostalgically reminisced about Ginger, Richard’s complexion grew increasingly haggard. Cutting off the seasoned attendant’s story, Richard spoke in a tightly restrained voice.

“Yes, Young Master.”

Sebastian responded with a gaze full of words he wished to say, but Richard, blinded by concern, failed to notice the sly expression on his face. After all, the god of love is a blind, judgmentless child.

Richard gritted his teeth as he issued a command, “Summon the physician immediately.”

At this, Sebastian jumped in surprise and shook his head hastily.

“Young Master, perhaps you should give the Young Madam an opportunity to address this herself first.”

“You’re telling me not to call a doctor when Grace is practically dying?”

Richard glared at Sebastian with a gaze blazing like fire.

“She might want to talk to you directly about it…”

Sebastian trailed off. Richard, feeling another blow to the back of his head, fell silent. Suddenly, Lady Mary Montague came to mind.

Lady Mary Montague had been a chronic heart disease patient. Everyone at the Spencer mansion felt sympathy for her, and after her marriage, her husband, Lord Anthony Montague, cared for her devotedly.

Whenever Lady Montague so much as coughed, those present would rush to bring her water and handkerchiefs. If her pulse quickened even slightly, she was promptly sent to her room to rest.

Yet Lady Montague herself had found such treatment extremely uncomfortable. She hated being treated as a patient before she even voiced her symptoms, going through the entire process of summoning a doctor, undergoing examinations, and waiting for a diagnosis.

This made her increasingly inclined to hide her illness. She wished to escape the flood of concern and attention directed at her.

The same had been true in Turkan. Turkan was more advanced medically than Ingrint. As soon as Lord Anthony Montague was appointed there, he gathered doctors from all over to examine Lady Montague.

The repetition of this process gradually led Lady Montague to ignore her illness, using Turkan-made cosmetics excessively to maintain the appearance of health. Such overprotection did not suit the free-spirited Lady Montague.

“So Grace…”

Richard Spencer was well aware of the profound despair Lord Anthony Montague had faced after Lady Montague’s untimely passing. He imagined himself in the place of Lord Montague, who had seemed on the verge of collapse back then. Already pale, Richard’s face drained further of color.

“One week. Just wait for one week. Until then, both you and I should pretend not to know anything.”

“……”

“Surely, the Young Madam has her own thoughts on the matter.”

“……”

If it were possible to depict emotions as text, the smooth forehead of Richard Spencer, the Young Earl, would now bear words like “shock,” “fear,” “pain,” “sorrow,” and “grief.” In truth, such a technique was unnecessary; Sebastian could see all those emotions written clearly in his expression.

Love truly is a magnificent thing.

Sebastian secretly chuckled to himself.

Hadn’t he dropped enough hints by now?

Sebastian had anticipated Richard would summon him for a scolding, at which point he had planned to cautiously share his suspicions—namely, that before next autumn, the dim and quiet Spencer mansion might echo with the cries of a baby.

It was utterly unsatisfying.

The moment a beloved wife confessed to carrying his child should be as intense, moving, and memorable as a Gallian play. Learning it from a servant or the physician would be the worst possible outcome.

Moreover, Grace Spencer herself hadn’t said a single word. When the person in question was silent, having someone else meddle and overstep was far from dramatic.

That’s why Sebastian had only dropped a few hints to Richard. After all, plays required conflict to make the protagonists’ eventual resolution all the more thrilling.

Richard Spencer gazes tenderly at Grace Spencer. Grace finally realizes what the changes in her body over the past few weeks mean and approaches her husband with tear-filled eyes, one step at a time.

Richard Spencer hides his anguish, pretending to be fine as he brushes trembling fingers through Grace’s hair. He vows over and over to save her no matter what. His green eyes gleam with resolve.

Grace Spencer stands before him with a radiant smile, looking up at him. Richard misunderstands her smile as a forced attempt to reassure him.

Richard’s expression distorts painfully. Tears fall, and his shoulders shake. The beast-like sobs he had suppressed echo faintly in the room.

Grace is bewildered by her husband’s tears. Her own eyes brim with shimmering tears, but unlike Richard’s, hers are filled with hope for the future.

Grace rises on her tiptoes and whispers something in Richard’s ear. The face of the confessing woman flushes a peony pink.

Richard doesn’t understand her words at first and stands there blankly. He repeatedly chews over what he has heard, and at last, he grasps the truth.

Richard, overcome with joy, lets out a resounding roar like a lion. He lifts Grace into his arms and spins her around.

Afterward, Richard, unable to contain his excitement, summons Sebastian. He orders generous rewards to be distributed to all the staff and personally commends Sebastian’s hard work with an enormous cash bonus, appointing him as the butler-to-be.

Hehehe…

While a Galian play unfolded in Sebastian’s mind, Richard Spencer found himself engulfed in a heavy feeling as he recalled the conversation from moments ago.

It was always like this. Just as happiness began to settle, misfortune would barge in, obstructing the path ahead.

Richard rubbed his eyelids to clear his dimmed vision. Somehow, it felt as though tears might burst forth at any moment. He calmed his heart with great effort.

One week…

Yes, giving Grace just one week wouldn’t be a bad idea. In the meantime, he could contact the best physicians in Ingrint and, if necessary, bring one in from Turkan. Visiting Lord Anthony Montague in Chelsea for advice might also be worthwhile, as he was more knowledgeable about Turkan than anyone else.

To think he had felt hurt, assuming Grace was avoiding him. She had merely wanted to conceal her pain.

In that sense, Grace resembled Lady Mary Montague. No husband should collapse while his wife struggled to remain strong.

Perhaps the end of this rainbow lay farther away than before, and the journey to reach it would be much harder. Yet Richard Spencer was determined to get there and seize the treasure chest at its end.

If Grace regained her health, perhaps he should leave everything behind and retreat to Blenheim Palace. They could live a modest, humble life for three generations, grateful to the very end of their days…

“Young Master, instead of lingering here, wouldn’t it be better to return to the mansion?”

Sebastian’s words abruptly snapped Richard out of his thoughts.

Ha, what terrible timing. This man has no sense of atmosphere.

Still, he was right. Rather than agonizing in a distant space, it would be better to face Grace directly and speak a few warm words to her.

Richard rose with a forlorn expression. His steps toward the Young Countess’s bedroom in the mansion felt heavier than ever.