Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 50

50. The Lion (King) Appears

Pyramus and Thisbe were children of feuding families. Their passionate love was forbidden by their parents.

The god of love is a blind, judgmentless child.[1] And those who fall in love are no different.

Like a blazing fire or a rushing river, love blinded and clouded the judgment of Pyramus and Thisbe. Thus, they decided to defy their parents and elope.

Thisbe arrived first at the agreed meeting spot, beneath the mulberry tree at the village’s edge, just before dawn. As she waited, a lion, fresh from its hunt and dripping blood from its jaws, appeared before her. Terrified, Thisbe fled far away, oblivious to the fact that her veil had fallen to the ground.

Later, Pyramus arrived at the meeting spot. The lion that had frightened Thisbe was gone, but he found her blood-stained, torn veil. Overcome with despair, he mistook it as evidence that the lion had devoured his beloved.

Unable to bear his sorrow, Pyramus drew his sword and plunged it into his heart. When Thisbe returned and found Pyramus dying, she wept uncontrollably, holding him in her arms. Then, she took her own life to join him in death. The blood they spilled dyed the mulberry tree’s fruit a deep crimson.

The one who bent down to pick up Eleanor’s fan was Richard, the Lion King. Like Thisbe’s veil, her fan bore dark red mulberry stains, resembling blood. Over their heads, the mulberry tree’s branches stretched wide, dropping its ripened fruit.

“E-Eleanor…”

Lancelot lingered nearby, unable to follow Eleanor. He paced nervously, finally mustering the resolve to pursue her, only to freeze in his tracks.

Lancelot’s face turned ashen. It happened the moment he saw his elder brother, Richard, standing before Eleanor.

“I-it’s a misunderstanding, Richard,” Lancelot stammered, his voice trembling.

Eleanor, however, erupted, “A misunderstanding? What misunderstanding could there be?”

“It’s just…”

“Lancelot.”

“Eleanor, I… I…”

Standing before the Lion King, both Eleanor and Lancelot were blinded by fear and anger, unable to confront the situation. After all, love blinds people and clouds their judgment.

Yet, as he watched this farce, Richard’s mind grew colder. He began calmly assessing the repercussions of what lay ahead.

The fallout would be significant. The engagement would unravel, contracts would be voided, and relations between the two families would crumble. The engagement and marriage of Richard Spencer and Eleanor d’Estrée were no mere personal matters.

But there was no reason to force the engagement. While their union was never rooted in love, Richard had no intention of sharing his wife with his twin brother. This wasn’t Gallia, where “many love their husbands’ brothers.”

“Lancelot. You always covet what is mine,” Richard said, rubbing his throbbing left temple. He didn’t bother to control his movements.

“No, no, Richard. It’s not…”

Lancelot shook his head furiously.

“I don’t care what you say. In the end, things always go your way.”

“……”

“Do you want the heir’s title, too? Did you think I wouldn’t know that the Countess plotted again while I was at Grentabridge?”

“……”

“Stop hiding behind Mother and face me directly.”

“…It’s not true.”

People often envy twins, imagining an unbreakable bond between siblings born of the same womb, just moments apart. They see them as life’s closest companions.

Richard Spencer, however, saw it differently. To him, Lancelot Spencer was a lifelong rival.

The only time Richard had triumphed over Lancelot was at birth. By sheer luck, he was born eight minutes earlier and became the heir to a great noble family. That was all.

Since then, Richard had never bested Lancelot, whether through effort or fortune. For instance, no matter how hard he tried, the Countess’s affection always belonged to Lancelot.

Even when misfortune struck, such as the smallpox epidemic, he found himself defeated. Unlike Lancelot, who recovered without a single scar, Richard was left with an unwelcome blemish.

No matter how meticulously he scrubbed his body to avoid the Countess’s scornful gaze, as though his scar were a breeding ground for germs, the results never changed.

And now, he had once again lost—this time to the misfortune of his engagement, which had pressed upon him throughout his life. Eleanor d’Estrée, his betrothed, loved Lancelot.

But was this truly a defeat? For a brief moment, Richard found a fragment of thought melting deep within his now-icy heart.

As a child, Richard had always been devastated by losses. The bitterness was unbearably cruel. As he grew older, he avoided creating situations where he might lose, choosing instead to ignore, evade, and sever ties.

Yet now, he didn’t feel miserable. The torment and sorrow that used to consume him were absent, replaced instead with…

A little way off, the crisp sound of grass being stepped on was heard, then fell silent. The undefined stream of consciousness, which had been surging through his entire being, was abruptly cut off.

“Who’s there?”

Richard’s voice was grim as he asked.

This situation was a disgrace to the Spencer family, a flaw. If anyone had seen or heard, he’d have to act immediately, even going so far as to silence them to keep the matter from spreading.

“I-I’m sorry.”

A small voice rang out—Grace Gurton’s. The anger that had consumed Richard’s face instantly softened.

It was fortunate that the witness to this tawdry scene was her. At least there was no need to force her into silence.

If Richard made it clear to Grace that she should keep quiet, she would. No, she would do so even without him saying a word. Grace adored Richard Spencer.

Above all, his “friend” wasn’t the type to gossip about others’ private matters. Grace knew much about Richard’s private struggles but never spoke of them to anyone.

Yet suddenly, a sense of embarrassment crawled up his spine—a feeling he hadn’t experienced before. Of all people, it had to be Grace Gurton who saw him like this.

Richard suddenly felt ashamed. Moments earlier, he hadn’t, but now….

He’d thought it wouldn’t matter if Grace saw his weaknesses. That’s why he’d kept her around, calling her his “friend.”

But this was different. Even if she was a friend, he didn’t want her to see him like this. Even though this was just another instance of his possessions being taken by his younger brother, as it had always been. This time, though, the scale of the incident was larger, and it wasn’t Richard’s fault.

Still, he felt embarrassed. His rotting roots had been unearthed, and Grace Gurton was the one to witness them.

“Didn’t I tell you not to apologize unnecessarily, Grace?”

Richard sighed as he spoke.

“I-I’m sor—”

Before Grace could finish, a large figure appeared behind her. Richard’s gaze hardened once more.

“Sorry, Richard. I overheard by chance…”

Damn it, it was Edmund Beaufort. Richard suddenly remembered that Grace had left the Assembly Room with someone.

“Don’t worry. I’ll erase everything I saw and heard here from my mind. This won’t become a topic of gossip,” Edmund continued in an unusually solemn tone.

He was a noble himself and understood well. Every family had its misfortunes. They simply wrapped them up neatly, hiding them as if they didn’t exist.

Some misfortunes grew too large to conceal entirely, their outlines visible beneath the thin wrapping paper. Observing this, society speculated and gossiped, but only those who wrapped the package knew its true form.

The Spencer family’s misfortunes were like that. The words Theresius Wilford had shouted on the pitch were an outline concealed under wrapping paper. People whispered based on what they could see, adding their own imaginings.

Edmund Beaufort, by coincidence, had glimpsed the tattered interior of the Spencer family’s package. He had been entertained while Lancelot and Eleanor quarreled over forbidden love—it was tantalizing.

But when Richard Spencer appeared, Edmund felt uneasy. Richard’s sarcastic remark about relinquishing the heir’s title carried more impact than the most powerful cannon invented in Turkan.

Some truths are better left unknown. Edmund now regretted eavesdropping, feeling the weight of his guilt.

“Richard.”

Eleanor, who had been watching Richard and Lancelot intently, spoke up.

“I will choose to return to Gallia.”

Author’s Footnote:

[1] Partially modified quotation from Act 1, Scene 1 of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream