Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 77

77. Shattered Peace

The twin brothers continued to banter and laugh, sharing their first moment of reconciliation and coexistence in their lives.

But the peace didn’t last long. It was disrupted by an urgent voice from outside.

“Young Master, it’s Sebastian.”

Ha, what terrible timing.

Richard, who had been enjoying a rare light buzz, turned his flushed face toward the door and responded.

“Come in, Sebastian.”

Sebastian practically stumbled into the room. His face was drenched in sweat, and it was clear he was deeply flustered.

“What is it?”

Sebastian looked at Richard, seated across a chess table from Lancelot, with an expression of utter pity. But after steadying himself, he delivered the news in a trembling voice.

“You must go to the Montague mansion immediately, Young Master.”

***

Mary Montague passed away, carrying with her the words she could never say to Richard Spencer. Even so, her final expression was one of peace. She had learned about the outcome of the Spencer family meeting just before her death.

“M-Madam, Madam…”

Grace kept rubbing Mary’s cold fingertips. Mary, keeping her gaze fixed on her husband’s face, whispered softly to Grace.

“I couldn’t be a mother to you until the very end.”

“……”

“I should have focused on your adoption first instead of rushing the engagement. I was too clumsy and greedy.”

“N-no, that’s not…”

“Even without me, Anthony will take care of you. My daughter is also his daughter.”

“……”

“What you said at the Blue Stocking meeting was truly impressive. I realized then what your face looks like when you’re talking about what you truly want.”

“……”

“Live your life doing what you want, and don’t do what you don’t want to.”

“……”

“But remember the advice I gave you before.”

“W-what advice?”

“If you want to be close to someone, embrace them warmly. If you’re fighting, make sure to punish them thoroughly.”

“……”

“Men are fools who think too highly of themselves. So all you need to do is push and pull strategically.”

“I-I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

Mary Montague smiled faintly. Her green eyes, so much like Richard’s, began to dim.

“If it weren’t for Annabel, Anthony and I would never have been together. Back then, Anthony was a coward. A fool.”

Her clouded gaze remained fixed on her silently weeping husband. Mary spoke again, her breath weakening.

“Richard is a cowardly fool, Grace.”

“I…”

“Take care of him. And sometimes, check if my husband is still living well.”

Lady Montague closed her eyes peacefully. When the rattling sound from her throat ceased, Anthony Montague and Grace each bowed their heads in turn.

“Aunt!”

At that moment, the bedroom door swung open roughly. The person who stormed in was Richard Spencer, who hadn’t even properly buttoned his jacket.

He approached Mary Montague’s bed with a pale face. His trembling hands hovered over the lifeless body, retracting and extending repeatedly.

“Richard.”

Lancelot Spencer belatedly came to stand beside Richard.

Lancelot hadn’t had many interactions with Lady Mary Montague. However, he liked her. She was the nagging relative who always pointed things out, but he knew she occasionally checked the windows of empty rooms in her own way.

“Lord Montague.”

Speaking on behalf of the dazed Richard, Lancelot addressed Anthony Montague.

“How did this happen so suddenly? When did her condition become so severe?”

“She was already like this since Turkan,” Anthony replied, rubbing his face with both hands. His cracked voice was filled with anguish and regret.

“Since Turkan?”

Richard, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke with a fierce tone.

“Are you saying you just stood by while Aunt’s condition worsened to this point, Uncle?”

“Richard, calm down.”

Lancelot stepped in front of Richard to soothe him. But Richard, unable to control his emotions, raged on like a wounded lion.

“You should have done everything possible to save her! If it was impossible, you shouldn’t have let her return to Lydon alone! And even after arriving here, you shouldn’t have made her deal with so many matters!”

Listening to Richard’s accusations, Anthony Montague said nothing. He rose from his seat, placed a brief kiss on Mary Montague’s forehead, and quietly left the room.

The scent of death, silence, and Richard’s pained groans intertwined in the room. Richard still couldn’t accept Mary Montague’s death.

He had planned to visit tomorrow, just as Sebastian had suggested, carrying a large bouquet. He had intended to say he felt embarrassed about acting like a second-year public school student back then, that he hadn’t meant what he said.

He had wanted to express his gratitude for always having his back, for enabling him to endure and live on like this. He had planned to say he knew what she was worried about and to assure her that such worries wouldn’t come to pass, asking her to entrust her precious daughter to him.

For the first time, he had wanted to open his heart.

“How… how could it end like this…?”

Richard Spencer’s tears fell heavily. Lancelot silently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I-It was what Madam wished for,” Grace spoke with difficulty. She watched Richard, who was hunched over, and bit her lip so hard it almost bled.

“L-Lord Montague also suffered greatly. P-please, don’t resent him.”

Only then did Richard realize that Grace Gurton was also in the room. He wiped his tears, raised his chin, and glared at her.

“Miss Gurton, did you know about Aunt’s condition?”

“……”

“Since when?”

“……”

“Even when she collapsed and the Spencer family’s physician visited, did you know then?”

“Y-yes…”

Richard drew a sharp breath. His light green eyes, filled with grief and regret, were now tinged with fiery anger.

“Didn’t you say it was fortunate her condition improved?”

“T-that…”

“Didn’t you tell me it was just indigestion?”

“……”

“Didn’t you say the doctor didn’t mention anything serious?”

“I’m s-sorry. Madam e-explicitly told me not to tell you, so I had no choice…”

Grace faltered under Richard’s fiery gaze. She couldn’t think of anything to say; her mind was blank.

“Was it fun for you?”

Richard Spencer’s sharp tone carved deep ridges into the atmosphere.

“Did you not know how much I cared for and relied on my aunt?”

And along the dark, deep valley surged turbulent waters that spread uncontrollably in all directions.

“Even when I was in Bath, I constantly asked about my aunt’s health. And every time, what did you say to me? Didn’t you deceitfully assure me that she was fine and told me not to worry?”

“……”

“How did it feel to see a Young Earl foolishly believe such lies? Did you find it pitiful that I claimed to love my aunt but couldn’t even notice her true condition?”

Lancelot intervened, attempting to calm Richard down. “Richard, that’s unreasonable. You know better.”

“Unreasonable? That woman relayed those lies to me without even a flicker of expression.”

“Lady Montague asked her to do so. What could Miss Gurton have done?”

“When someone’s life is at stake, does that excuse hold up?”

Richard’s torrent drowned out Lancelot’s rational words, leaving only irrationality, illogicality, and the cowardly desire to redirect his pain and blame outward.

“Miss Gurton, you don’t seem sad at all.”

“……”

“Despite the countless favors my aunt bestowed upon you.”

“……”

“Does my aunt even know she bestowed so much inheritance upon a woman who doesn’t mourn her or shed a single tear?”

“…W-what do you mean by that?”

“Oh, are you saying you didn’t know? Or are you just pretending to be innocent?”

Grace tightly shut her stinging eyes, barely suppressing her tears. Even when her mother died, she hadn’t cried. That was just how Grace was.

Born posthumously, raised by a widowed mother in a xenophobic village in a foreign land, she had learned to hold back her tears to avoid making her mother sad, to avoid seeming weak or pitiful to those who scorned or pitied her.

After losing both parents and living in a poorhouse, she had learned not to cry because crying meant going hungry. The poorhouse master detested the sound of crying children.

Even when Mary Montague took her in and placed her under Professor Charles Dodgson’s care, she suppressed her tears out of habit, not wanting to trouble the awkward guardian who had never raised a child before.

Finally, Grace steadied her rising sorrow and met Richard’s eyes.

“Y-Young Earl, y-your words are too harsh.”