Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 71

71. You Will Regret This

“It seems you’ve been wishing for your happiness, not mine, Aunt.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lady Montague’s coughing wouldn’t stop. She squeezed her voice out as she asked.

“I mean, you’ve found happiness in securing my position. Looking back, it’s always been that way. What would a child know about clinging to the title of heir? Back then, I was just a fool desperate for one more glance from the Countess.”

“How dare you say such a thing!”

“You always said you wished for my happiness, that you wanted me to find a good wife, that avoidance and indifference weren’t the solutions…”

“Richard, that’s…”

“Yet, when I’m finally trying to be happy, to marry the woman I like, and to face my problems, you seem to hate it. It appears that happiness, if it doesn’t serve the Young Earl’s stability, isn’t happiness to you at all.”

Richard Spencer coldly stared at Lady Montague, who clutched her chest and leaned forward. The short woman’s shoulders quivered as she shook her head repeatedly.

Words, the more they are spoken, lose their essence. Words prompt more words, which is why they can be so terrifying.

Words that didn’t need to be spoken, words that shouldn’t have been spoken, and words that strayed far from the heart spilled out unchecked. Richard Spencer, too overwhelmed to notice, was consumed by his emotions.

The man who had realized his feelings for Grace Gurton and crushed Theresius Wilford with his own hands felt a surge of exhilaration. At the same time, he harbored resentment—as both a nephew and a son—toward Mary Montague, who demanded he bury his unspoken feelings.

The swirl of emotions he blamed on others was a rare sensation for Richard Spencer, and it left him unprepared. Breaking his isolation and opening the door to those feelings brought a flood of emotions he wasn’t accustomed to, leading him to make one mistake after another.

“Do you want the title for yourself, Aunt? Are you planning to become a regent like Queen Catherine of Gallia?”

Words are like vessels. While thoughts can flow away like water, they stagnate once poured into a vessel. Listeners can see the speaker’s thoughts in the vessel, sip from it, and even chew over them. This is why words are so terrifying.

Overcome with agitation, Richard Spencer lashed out at Lady Montague without restraint. Standing outside the drawing room door, Sebastian anxiously glanced around, worried someone might overhear the Young Earl’s reckless words.

He’ll regret this.

He’s no longer a second-year student at a public school going through puberty. A grown man over twenty throwing such a tantrum was no different from a spoiled aristocratic toddler in Bond Street, crying because their nursemaid wouldn’t buy them a toy.

“Richard Spencer.”

Mary Montague took a deep breath and slowly stood up. Then, she walked over to Richard, who was still fuming and unable to see reason.

Slap!

With an unyielding motion, her hand struck Richard’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. A stinging pain and burning heat spread across his entire left cheek.

“Aunt.”

But above all, shock and disbelief overwhelmed Richard. It was the first time he had seen Mary Montague raise her hand against anyone, and to think he was the first target left him stunned.

His scattered thoughts began to return. At the same time, his left temple throbbed, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed to mock him. The weight of the reckless words he had uttered bore down on him.

Richard looked up at the woman standing before him, his face twisted. Words of apology struggled to leave his lips, only circling within his mouth.

The lioness of the Spencers glared at him fiercely. Then, with the authority befitting her pride, she banished the arrogant young cub who had dared to insult her from her territory.

“I’d appreciate it if you left my house immediately. And don’t bother visiting again.”

***

“M-Madam, are you alright now?”

Lady Mary Montague collapsed in the drawing room. It happened right after she saw Richard Spencer and his attendant, Sebastian, leave the Montague mansion in defeat.

She was bedridden for two full days. Anthony Montague and Grace Gurton, who took turns nursing her through high fever and difficulty breathing, had to steel themselves countless times to face the worst. The family doctor employed by the Montagues cautiously mentioned the possibility of a grim outcome.

“A-are you alright?”

Large, round eyes glistening with tears gazed at Lady Montague. As she barely managed to open her eyes, Mary let out a dry, crackling laugh.

“…I’m sorry.”

Grace swallowed her tears. Finally, after much effort, she managed to release the words that had been trapped in her mouth the entire time Lady Mary Montague had been bedridden.

“For what?” asked Mary Montague in a faint voice.

“Because of me, the engagement with Lord Wilford fell apart. You must have been deeply hurt by that…”

Grace Gurton had been sent to her bedroom by Lady Montague while watching Richard Spencer pour tea over Theresius Wilford’s head. For over an hour, she hiccupped, replaying various scenarios in her mind, yet she remained unsure of what had actually happened.

Then, Lady Montague collapsed. Anthony Montague returned home from the royal palace upon hearing the news, learned the details of the incident from the butler, and informed Grace that the engagement with Theresius Wilford had been canceled.

Lord Anthony Montague expressed regret, but Grace Gurton felt something resembling relief. Despite having categorized her marriage to Theresius as a path to comfort and safety, she found herself feeling a sense of ease when it was called off. It was a paradox.

“That’s not it.”

Lady Montague tried to move her head but winced in pain. Grace immediately picked up a glass of water from the bedside table and held it to her lips.

“If anything, I’m embarrassed that I tried to pair you with someone like him without properly investigating first.”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that. I-I know you did it for me…”

“Still, Richard…”

Mary Montague trailed off. While she had been grateful for Richard’s help, she couldn’t erase the memory of the wounds he had inflicted with his words.

“Richard played a significant role. It turns out he was the one who sent the supplies to the poorhouse. Don’t worry about repaying him; I’ll handle that myself.”

“…I’m sorry.”

As Grace apologized again, Mary let out a long sigh. Then, meeting Grace’s eyes, she spoke with the tone of a teacher addressing a student.

“Don’t apologize so easily, Grace.”

“…Yes?”

“Even though the adoption announcement has been postponed because of this mess, you’re already like a daughter to me. Anthony and I don’t apologize for things we haven’t done wrong. Sometimes, even when you’re at fault, there are times when you shouldn’t apologize.”

“……”

Grace found another similarity between Lady Montague and Richard Spencer.

“Miss Gurton, under no circumstances should you apologize lightly.”

Her heart had raced when she first heard those words in the Pump Room in Bath. Reflecting on that moment, Grace’s expression softened slightly.

“I’ve known for some time that you like him.”

But at Lady Montague’s next words, Grace’s body froze.

“Oh, no…”

“It’s alright. I’m not trying to reprimand you.”

Mary Montague patted the back of Grace’s hand.

“There are things that become evident on their own. Things you can see, hear, feel, and touch. Flushed cheeks, quickened breaths, subtle tremors, and cold fingertips…”

“……”

“Even so, I pretended not to notice.”

“……”

“Was that wrong of me?”

“N-no, it wasn’t.”

Grace shook her head. After all, she had pretended not to notice, too. She liked him, but approaching him felt terrifying.

Getting too close to her ideal felt like her heart, sealed with a wax of insecurity, might melt under the sun and leave her vulnerable. She feared becoming like the mythological figure who soared too high only to fall.

“What do you want to do now, Grace? If you wish, I can…”

Mary Montague had made up her mind. Despite being furious with Richard, she couldn’t deny that he had a point. Perhaps that was why his words had angered her so much.

As a woman, she had resented a life bound solely to being someone’s wife. She had projected her unfulfilled desires onto Richard Spencer, using him to fill the void she couldn’t bridge herself. It had been an expression of her own inadequacy.

Of course, she loved her nephew dearly. But to say her feelings were entirely free of impurities would be a lie. It was only now that she could admit this to herself.

Thus, if Grace desired it, Mary would accept the relationship between the two. The backlash would be immense, but achieving what one wants always requires some hardship. Ambition demands its price.

Yet the echoes of Richard’s words still lingered in Grace’s secluded heart. For the oblivious Richard Spencer, this was an unfortunate reality.

“I couldn’t care less whether a lowborn, stuttering, insignificant woman likes me or not. And I’m certainly not idle enough to entertain such sentiments.”

Hunched over, Grace Gurton responded softly, “I… I’m fine as I am. Someone as insignificant as me doesn’t belong beside the Young Earl.”

…Words are truly terrifying things. They always find their way back, just like echoes.