Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 56

56. Jumping Off the Swing

The weather was gloomy. The sun peeked in and out from behind the clouds, playing hide and seek.

Beyond the cave lies the idea. That idea, they say, stands under the sun, not by the light of a candle.

However, even the sun cannot remain constantly bright. Its position changes with time, its intensity varies, and the color of its rays shifts. Just look at the sky now.

Perhaps the existence of the idea isn’t immutable either. As the sun shines, disappears, and its light turns red or yellow, the color and mood of reality change accordingly.

The concept of the sun can be replaced by various forms in reality—a feeling on a certain day, the atmosphere of a particular moment. Couldn’t all of these be seen as the sun?

Grace Gurton was reflecting on the afterimage of Richard Spencer, who had just forgiven her impoliteness and left. She was also thinking about the vivid idea of him that she had encountered from Lydon to Bath.

The Richard she had secretly adored back in Grentabridge had been no more than the shadow of a candle on the cave wall, not the idea itself. Until then, she had been more satisfied with the shadow than the idea.

Observing the shadow had been a pleasant luxury, fully enjoyed even in the comfort of the cave. There had been no need to take responsibility or feel heartache.

She had believed that the moment one became greedy and stepped out of the cave, unhappiness would begin. Reflecting on the fates of great figures who sought truth, she thought of the scholars who drank poison or were beheaded. They were not few in number.

The idea was somewhat different from what Grace had imagined. Under the ever-changing sun, Richard Spencer was not an unchanging existence but a living, breathing man. The different faces he showed became afterimages, one by one.

Love, no matter how despicable it might be, has a way of transforming everything into something admirable and dignified. And in love, there is no discernment, no judgment.[1]

Thus, even when Richard Spencer was rude, sharp, or selfish, Grace did not concern herself with right or wrong, beauty or ugliness, black or white. He was the only such person in her life.

Grace found herself drawn beyond the afterimage, wanting to get closer to the reality of him. Greedily, she even wished to reach him.

But she was afraid. She felt it every time she visited Eleanor’s room. Watching Eleanor’s swollen face and trembling fingers, Grace feared real love. Unattainable love was terrifying.

Wouldn’t it be better to return to being a mere observer of shadows? To find comfort only for her heart? To remain far away, gazing at the light of the candle?

The person who put an end to her agony was Professor Charles Dodgson. The story he had told her last night suddenly came to mind.

A year ago, he had handed Grace a test paper for the mathematics students, suggesting she try solving it for fun. Watching her dive straight into solving the first question, Charles Dodgson clicked his tongue.

“Grace, do you know what’s most important when solving math problems?”

“The… m-most important thing? I-isn’t it calculating accurately?”

At her response, Charles Dodgson chuckled knowingly before continuing, “When students receive a test paper, they immediately bury their noses in it, trying to solve the first question. But there’s something they need to check before that.”

“W-what is it?”

“They need to skim through the entire paper and compare the difficulty of each problem to their own abilities. Time is limited, and there are many questions to solve. Most students work through the questions in order, but if the first problem is the hardest and beyond their ability, they’ll waste their time. As a result, they won’t have enough time to solve the other questions they could have answered.”

“Oh…”

“So, first and foremost, you need to understand your own abilities. That’s why the phrase ‘Know thyself’ exists.”

“Y-yes.”

“And there’s one more thing. This is even more important.”

“I-I’m curious.”

“You need to evaluate the validity of the problem itself. Professors are human too and can make mistakes when creating questions. If I were to mistakenly write 7 instead of 1 in a formula, the problem itself would be flawed, and no student would be able to derive an answer, no matter how hard they tried.”

“T-that makes sense.”

“So, before starting your calculations, you must first examine the problem carefully.”

When applied to Grace Gurton’s unrequited love for Richard Spencer, the conversation matched as follows:

If admiring him from afar was a low-difficulty problem, then meeting him in person was of medium difficulty. And the moment they decided to become friends, it became a high-difficulty problem. The gap between love and friendship was vast.

Grace wasn’t skilled enough to act as though she could handle such a gap, pretending to be a friend while harboring her feelings. In short, she didn’t have the capability to solve such a challenging problem.

Moreover, the very problem of trying to become friends with someone you have a one-sided love for was flawed from the start. It was like being handed a test paper and forced to accept it, only to realize upon closer inspection that the equation within the problem was incorrect.

No matter how much one wrestles with a flawed problem, there’s no solution to be found. Even if you challenge the examiner and correct the problem, it’s useless if the difficulty is too high.

On the other hand, her relationship with Theresius Wilford was simpler. Grace Gurton was a woman past the age of majority. She wasn’t unaware of why Lady Mary Montague went out of her way to invite Theresius to tea parties or to have him accompany her to balls.

At Grentabridge, she’d never thought about marriage. She wasn’t interested, nor did she desire it. While the realistic backdrop of her life and her shortcomings played a part in this indifference, there was another reason.

Grace feared real love. A simple and fleeting crush was tolerable. However, the complex and organic emotions that love entailed terrified her. Even more frightening were the unexpected consequences that love might bring.

Grace’s fear of love stemmed from her parents. A love that crossed social boundaries, an unexpected pregnancy, despair from a revealed truth, a nighttime escape, and a one-sided death. All of these misfortunes were born from love.

However, now that Grace had decided to become Lady Mary Montague’s adopted daughter, marriage was an inevitable part of her future. And barring any unforeseen changes, Theresius Wilford was the most likely candidate for her husband.

Thankfully, Grace Gurton had a knack for “adaptation.” Her experiences of living alone in a foreign country with her mother, being sent to the poorhouse after her mother’s death, and being taken in by Professor Charles Dodgson had shaped her adaptability.

Since this wasn’t a love marriage, they might not become a sweet and harmonious couple. Still, if Grace could adapt to married life with Theresius Wilford and maintain a peaceful daily life, that would suffice.

This was a problem Grace could solve. Additionally, the problem itself was straightforward and flawless, with no entanglements.

Theresius Wilford, objectively evaluated, was not a bad match. Compared to Grace herself, he was far more accomplished and well-off.

In that sense, she ought to gratefully accept. The rainbow may be far away, but the bluebird is said to be nearby. Making Theresius Wilford her bluebird, bringing joy to Lady Montague in her lifetime, and ensuring Grace herself a stable life would be a fitting conclusion for everyone.

“S-sometimes, you must take responsibility for your feelings.”

“S-so, it’s time to gather your resolve and take responsibility.”

Although these were the words she had said to Lancelot Spencer, in truth, they were no different from a vow she had made to herself. Feelings that one cannot take responsibility for should not be nurtured. Those emotions were akin to a fundamentally flawed math problem.

And so, Grace Gurton resolved, as she spoke those words, that she would not solve the problem posed by Richard Spencer. She would leap off the swing and retreat deep into the cave, living a life satisfied with shadows.

***

At present, Richard’s room was as dark as the depths of a cave. That was because the room’s owner was in an indescribably gloomy mood.

Though Grace had not rejected him, Richard returned as if he had been rejected, his spirits plummeting. He had now entered the fourth stage of the five stages of grief: depression. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—he was firmly in the fourth.

The third stage, bargaining, hadn’t worked out. Foolishly talking about friendship and whatnot had led to this pitiful state.

Avoidance and evasion had been better. He had lived well enough avoiding things until now. He wasn’t senile, so why had he suddenly veered off course, leading to this disaster?

For Richard Spencer, depression had always been an emotion he avoided. Sadness and worry eat away at the heart. So, he had never allowed himself to feel such things.

The sudden and unfamiliar disparity was unbearable. The inner peace he had maintained so well was on the verge of crumbling.

And so, Richard crushed an innocent newspaper in his fist and bolted up from his seat. Perhaps riding a horse until exhaustion might make him feel better.

The interior of the villa was as quiet as always, perhaps even more so. The only sound echoing in the vast space was Richard’s footsteps pressing firmly on the floor, like piano keys.

“Richard Spencer.”

Just then, an irresistible voice called out from behind him.

“Shall we have a talk?”

Author’s Footnote:

[1] Partially modified quotation from Helena’s lines in Act 1, Scene 2 of William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream