Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 41

41. Shall We Be Friends?

The destination chosen by the narcissist after much deliberation was a tributary of the Avon River that flows through the city of Bath. It wasn’t the main river, where Pulteney Bridge, modeled after Florence’s Ponte Vecchio, stood. Instead, it was a smaller tributary—chosen for its lack of visitors.

Pulteney Bridge, lined with rows of tailor shops and cobblers, was always crowded with people. Heading in that direction might attract unnecessary gossip.

Truthfully, there was little for people to gossip about even if Grace Gurton, soon to become Lady Mary Montague’s adopted daughter, went out for a stroll with Young Earl Richard Spencer. Legally speaking, they would soon be relatives. Lancelot Spencer and Eleanor d’Estrée, for instance, often wandered around together without causing a stir.

However, the guilty are always self-conscious. Burdened by his own guilty conscience, Richard Spencer found himself overly aware of his surroundings and drove the carriage to the outskirts of Bath, where they now stood.

Though it was referred to as a tributary, the water was so narrow and shallow it could easily pass as a stream. With summer just beginning and little rain in recent days, the water levels were low.

“Th-this reminds me of Cherry Hinton,” Grace remarked in admiration. She had been unable to speak to Richard during their carriage ride, intimidated by his cold demeanor. Her comment now marked her first attempt at conversation.

“Have you been to Cherry Hinton before, Miss Gurton?” Richard asked, his expression one of genuine surprise.

“Uh… y-yes. I-I used to visit often.”

Though, in truth, the number of times she had visited in recent months to catch glimpses of Richard far exceeded her visits in previous years. Of course, Grace refrained from mentioning this, knowing it would disgust him. Instead, she simply nodded quietly, keeping her explanation brief.

“I have as well,” Richard replied with a faint smile.

Wow. Grace felt a thrill of joy, knowing she’d get to savor the fleeting image of Richard’s smile for the next three days. He was indeed like the Cheshire Cat, whose charm lay in his smile.

“Ah, I already knew that.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then I suppose you’ve heard rumors about me as well, Grace.”

Richard paused, startled by his own words. Why had he called her by her name instead of ‘Miss Gurton’?

“Wh-What rumors?” Grace asked. Given the number of rumors circulating about him, she had no idea which he might be referring to.

And wait… did he just call her by her name, not her title? Her earlobes turned crimson, as if a flower had blossomed there. Her sensitivity level seemed to hit a perfect 10.

Like the dignified nobleman he was, Richard pretended not to notice the visible changes in her demeanor. His chest swelled imperceptibly with pride. How much must she like me to react this way?

“That I’m a narcissist.”

Unaware that rumors about him were far more numerous than just one or two, Richard slightly shook his head, shrugged, and let out a faint chuckle. It was an act that fit the narcissistic rumor all too well.

“Oh, y-yes, I’ve heard that,” Grace admitted awkwardly. Should she encourage him to stay strong despite such hurtful gossip?

Before she could decide, Richard spoke again.

“Well, it’s not entirely untrue.”

Grace couldn’t agree. She had countless arguments to refute the hypothesis that Richard Spencer was a narcissist. These weren’t flawed conclusions based on statistical errors but judgments formed from her own experiences.

“I-I don’t think that’s true.”

“What isn’t?”

“Th-those rumors.”

“Then, Gra… Miss Gurton, what kind of person do you think I am?”

What kind of person? Richard Spencer is handsome, strong, brilliant, and a top scholar at Grentabridge. Surely, that summed him up, right? Grace’s thoughts spiraled into her own reflections on her affection for him.

“I-I… I’d rather not say.”

What? Why not? Richard’s right eye twitched slightly in confusion.

“Could it be that you think I’m even worse?”

Richard lowered his previously raised chin and asked hurriedly. Well, not hurriedly—he was simply curious because no one had ever spoken to him like this before.

“N-no, absolutely not. I-I mean it—absolutely not.”

Grace vehemently denied, shaking her head so vigorously it was as if she needed to dispel any doubts.

But isn’t strong denial a form of affirmation? Richard’s mind, which had been relatively calm during their trip here, began to spiral into chaos once again. You like me, don’t you?

“When you say that, it makes me misunderstand, Miss Gurton.”

“M-misunderstand what?”

“That you dislike me so much you see me as someone even worse than a narcissist.”

When in doubt, bluffing is the best strategy. Richard, a seasoned gambler with an impressive 80% win rate in two-player poker games with Sebastian, relied entirely on intimidation and deception to secure his victories.

“…That… that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

Grace glanced at Richard’s stiff expression and let her soft eyes drop slightly.

“Th-the Young Earl I saw in Cherry Hinton wasn’t a narcissist, but rather…”

Those who harbor unrequited love are like people seated on the raised end of a seesaw, perpetually disadvantaged. Unless the person grounded on the other side offers some consideration, their feet remain suspended in mid-air, with no hope of touching the ground. They’re always on the defensive.

“Y-you were like Janus.”

And so, pushed to the very edge of the seesaw by Richard’s probing, Grace Gurton finally revealed the impression she had secretly harbored about him in her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke.

“…Janus.”

Richard Spencer slowly repeated the word. From the top of his head to the soles of his feet, an indescribable, peculiar sensation coursed through him, as though it was escaping into the ground beneath his feet. It felt as if he’d suddenly become a tree struck by lightning.

“That’s a response I never imagined.”

“……”

“May I ask why you think that?”

Grace slowly opened her eyes.

There was no grand reason behind her thought. That’s simply how she saw him.

Janus is the god of “doors,” a figure with two faces—one on the front and one on the back. The impression of Janus overlapped with Richard Spencer when Grace saw him staring at his reflection in the water, looking anything but happy. Rather than appearing enamored with himself, he seemed to be denying his own existence. Was that perception merely her misunderstanding?

Narcissus gazes upon his reflection in the water, mesmerized and captivated by it. But not Richard. He didn’t seem to be enchanted with himself. Instead, he appeared to let it pass by.

A man with widely known features on the front side and a hidden face on the back, locked behind a heavy door. That was Richard Spencer, and also the subject of Grace Gurton’s unrequited love.

“You… you don’t seem to like it much.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y-your own face, Young Earl.”

At her words, the color drained from Richard’s face. He repeated her words silently to himself, over and over, even mouthing them softly.

‘I don’t like my own face?’

“……”

Though her remark was blunt, it was refreshing. Yet somewhere deep inside, he felt a tight ache.

A slow smile spread across Richard’s face. It was both a defensive mechanism and an expression of amusement. As his smile grew, his right eye squinted further, creating an asymmetry in his expression.

“That’s correct.”

Richard Spencer’s laughter lingered, holding a mix of joy and sorrow, openness and secrecy. His expression carried contradictions, as if revealing and concealing all at once.

Richard was a man no different from an ostrich burying its head in the sand. He had spent his life meticulously concealing his flaws. He hid his imperfections not only from family and close acquaintances but, most of all, from himself.

The smallpox epidemic that swept through over a decade ago had taken much from him. Sebastian often lamented the blemish-like scar that stretched from Richard’s left eye to his temple, along with the numbness it caused. However, what Richard lost most profoundly was his self-esteem.

The way he kept his hair meticulously groomed with wax pomade, avoided looking in mirrors, and found solace in reflections on water wasn’t purely due to outward appearance. It stemmed from a deeper inner void.

Most in high society were unaware of these details. The Spencer family had gone to great lengths to keep the heir’s facial scars and minor functional loss under wraps.

The reasons for secrecy varied, but in most cases, it was to hide shameful matters. As a child, Richard came to understand that he was someone his parents wanted to keep hidden—someone they were ashamed of.

At last, Richard’s amused expression faded. He gazed down at Grace Gurton, who continued to look up at him with pure eyes, and spoke in a solemn tone.

“Miss Gurton, shall we be friends?”