Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 53
53. The Boy in the Empty Room
Until now, Lancelot Spencer had never faced a hardship of his own making. This situation was the first self-inflicted trial he had ever endured.
Perhaps solely blaming Lancelot is not entirely fair. If Richard Spencer had been the son chosen by the Countess, he too might have grown up just as weak and irresponsible.
Lancelot was the child who received infinite love from his mother, yet paradoxically, he feared her. To him, her love was everything.
The Countess of Spencer isolated Lancelot. From his siblings, from friends, and from anyone else. She made him trust, depend on, and follow only her. He existed as a tool to fill the Countess’s loneliness and dissatisfaction.
When he was too young to understand, this seemed perfectly fine. Children are more selfish than one might think and often flaunt what they have without hesitation.
Lancelot was no exception. He proudly flaunted the words his mother had spoken and the gifts she had given, rubbing them in the face of his twin brother, Richard. He even enjoyed consoling Richard whenever the light in Richard’s green eyes dimmed a little more with each show of superiority.
But as Lancelot Spencer grew older, he began to develop humanity and a sense of free will. He also realized just how narrow and confined his world was and how lonely a person he had become.
The thought of breaking free from the Countess first occurred to him around that time. But it was impossible. She had consumed him entirely.
He always felt as though he was trapped in an empty room, completely alone. The only person who could enter was the Countess of Spencer.
The key to the door was hers alone, and she shared it with no one. If she did not come, the room would remain forever a meaningless void, with no one able to enter. Thus, Lancelot Spencer was trapped inside.
Others didn’t know. No one could visit the empty room, so they had no idea what she did within its confines. One moment, she would sing lullabies and cradle him gently. The next, she would suddenly turn and shake him violently as if to throw him away.[1]
No one knew about Lancelot’s anxiety. To outsiders, he was merely a fortunate child who had received an abundance of maternal love.
After the incident at Windermere, Richard Spencer turned his back on Lancelot completely. While he accepted that he deserved it for what he had done, the pain still lingered.
“How dare you disobey me and enter the water! You ungrateful boy!”
The first words Lancelot heard from his mother after regaining consciousness days after nearly drowning in the lake were entirely unexpected. While the Countess lavished love on him, she could not tolerate any defiance of her will.
And so, Lancelot became desperate. The Countess, her face twisted with anger rather than concern, might lock the door to his room with her key and never visit him again. In that case, he would be left alone in the useless, empty room.
To avoid that, Lancelot lied. But his deceitful behavior meant Richard no longer smiled at him. The twin brother who had occasionally looked in on him from the window outside was now lost to him forever.
Eleanor d’Estrée had managed to slip through the cracks in the walls of his room. Lancelot had been waiting for someone like her for a long time. She was the one who diluted the Countess’s suffocating spice-filled scent and lit up the darkness of his locked room.
However, beneath the surface of anyone who has spent a long time in a prison-like space lies a constant resignation. They wish to escape, yet they fear what lies beyond. Leaving the small room meant facing the vast, chaotic world outside, and that too was terrifying.
And so, Lancelot curled up and cried. He lacked the courage to face anyone, not even the Countess. He blocked the keyhole to prevent anyone from entering and stayed in his empty room.
What finally allowed him to leave was Grace Gurton, who appeared at dawn to tap on his window like a bird. Through the window Richard had once occasionally opened to look inside, a small figure swayed like a doll.
“Um, excuse me.”
She hesitated for a moment before speaking. Her voice was small and delicate, yet its core was firm and resolute.
“L-Lady d’Estrée will soon leave in her carriage.”
“……”
“S-sometimes, you must take responsibility for your feelings.”
“……”
“S-so, it’s time to gather your resolve and take responsibility.”
After a few more words, Grace stepped away from the window. Lancelot’s dazed expression remained as her words echoed repeatedly in his mind.
People are motivated by various things. Some repent after hearing an emotional sermon from a church priest. Others reflect under the strict gaze of parents wielding discipline. And there are those who find their path to repentance in the sight of a roadside wildflower.
For Lancelot Spencer, it was Grace’s faltering yet earnest plea that moved him to action. Her words, spoken with genuine intention, echoed persistently within his empty room. The sounds seemed to vanish and then return, repeatedly piercing through him.
Two people in Ingrint considered Lancelot Spencer irresponsible. One was Richard Spencer, and the other was Lancelot Spencer himself.
Richard’s accusations were coldly valid. Lancelot had caused Richard immeasurable pain and, despite circling around him numerous times to apologize, could never muster the courage to do so.
Thus, Lancelot bitterly criticized himself. Yet, he remained paralyzed by fear of the Countess, unable to change. He knew she frequently attempted to maneuver him into becoming the Spencer heir to maintain her grip on the family. Even so, he timidly prepared only for the moment he could escape.
He was a coward. He should have apologized to Richard, no matter what it took. Even if it meant groveling or clinging to him in tears. But he lacked the courage. Whenever he saw Richard’s icy expression, any resolve he managed to gather froze solid.
The same held true with his mother. He never objected to her absurd whispers and baseless stories as she cradled him, too afraid of losing even her.
For this reason, he went to church countless times for confession and prayed fervently. He knew it was useless, but he did it anyway. In this way, he turned his gaze away from reality.
Avoidance and evasion were not exclusive to Richard. His twin brother shared the same tendencies, albeit for different reasons.
Grace Gurton’s reproach was neither cold like Richard’s nor scorching like his own. It was calm and truthful, accompanied by a gentle plea. That was all. And that was enough.
Beginnings have no restrictions, but endings often come with conditions. To bring something to a close, one must take responsibility. This truth applies equally to formless emotions.
Dawn was breaking. The distant sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels rolling signaled Eleanor’s departure.
Lancelot stood by the window. Outside, a small bundle left behind by Grace Gurton caught his eye.
He turned and surveyed the room he had stayed for 20 years. It was both cozy and desolate.
Without hesitation, Lancelot struck the window with his hand. Glass shattered, scattering shards everywhere.
He had never realized before that there was more than one way to leave a room. Exiting through the locked door was not the only option. Leaving the Countess’s grasp wasn’t a prerequisite for stepping into the world.
Clutching his bloodied hand with the other, Lancelot unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a rectangular portrait. For a long time, he examined its contents.
If his memory served him right, the portrait Grace Gurton had left contained the first letter he had ever written to Eleanor. The clumsily painted image brought a faint, fleeting smile to his face, like smoke dissipating.
Lancelot turned away once more. The room no longer felt cozy. It was merely empty.
Like the Lady of Charlotte, Lancelot Spencer left his room. He defied the Countess of Spencer, who had ruled over him like an omnipotent deity, and claimed the forbidden fruit. Departing from the Eden of her control, he hurled himself into a barren wilderness.
Perhaps, beneath the mulberry tree, Pyramus’s lover Thisbe would be waiting for him. This time, before the lion arrived, he vowed to find her first. Digging his heels into the horse’s side, Lancelot galloped away.
Author’s Footnote:
[1] Partially modified from Chapter 6, Pig and Pepper, in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
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aliceyriz
Grace to the rescue! I love how not one-dimensional the characters in this story is—they have history and reasons for whatever they do, wrong or right. tho eleanor and lancelot still not to my liking, i still rooting for their happiness