Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 82

82. Action and Reaction

“Money, lend me some money, Grace,” Viscount Lovelace said, clutching Grace’s hand like a drowning man dragging her down. He showed no signs of letting go until he got the answer he wanted.

“The estate is on the verge of disappearing completely. That’s where your mother spent her childhood and where she created precious memories with your father. Wouldn’t you feel sad if the castle and the land were lost forever?”

“……”

“I need money. The more, the better. I promise I’ll pay it back. If you want, I’ll write a promissory note and even have it notarized…”

“I-I can’t do that.”

“What?”

The Viscount had been confident he could get his way the moment he met Grace. She resembled the naive and overly kind Annabel so much that he was certain she would be just as easy to manipulate. Her stuttering only strengthened his resolve, making her seem like an easy target.

But he hadn’t expected her to refuse so firmly. Her refusal to even take his outstretched hand left him baffled and indignant.

“I-I don’t have any money. S-so I can’t lend you any.”

“Then persuade Lord Montague. Isn’t he going to be your adoptive father?”

“I-I can’t do that either. P-please don’t ask me such things.”

The Viscount tightened his grip on Grace’s hand. The pain, sharp and pressing, caused her to grit her teeth. Their tense standoff continued until a familiar voice interrupted.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A familiar voice was heard nearby. The air vibrated with a furious intensity as Richard Spencer’s voice cut through the scene. At the same time, Grace’s hand was wrenched free. The Viscount, startled, quickly stepped back.

“Who was that man, Miss Gurton?”

Grace cradled her pale, numb hand as she looked up. Towering above her, larger and more imposing than ever, stood Richard Spencer, glaring down at her.

***

“Sebastian.”

“Yes, Young Master?”

Here we go again. How many times is this now?

Sebastian, halfway through reading the documents assigned to him, twisted his torso to face Richard Spencer. The Young Earl looked as though he were about to speak but quickly dropped his gaze back to the desk. It had been the same routine for days.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“……”

Richard Spencer had spent the entire night by Mary Montague’s side the day she passed. He returned to the Spencer mansion only the next day. When he stepped out of the carriage, his face appeared expressionless, but to the seasoned attendant Sebastian, the sorrow and anguish etched into his features were unmistakable.

Sebastian noticed more than just sorrow and anguish. Woven tightly into the fabric of those emotions were strange, intricate patterns he couldn’t identify.

It must have something to do with Grace Gurton. No one else had left such a visible mark on Richard Spencer.

Sebastian pretended not to notice. As a seasoned attendant, he maintained his silence. Over a month passed since Mary Montague’s funeral.

The Countess of Spencer, who had come to Lydon for the family meeting, returned to the villa in Bath. Lancelot Spencer left for Gallia with the Duke of Charlotte. Richard Spencer remained alone at the Spencer mansion.

As time passed, the dense weave of sorrow and anguish in Richard’s heart gradually loosened, causing the fabric to become less tight. This loosening allowed the patterns to spread wider, gradually increasing their scope.

Time gradually eased the dense weave of sorrow and anguish in Richard’s heart, loosening its grip and allowing the patterns to expand. Grief, after all, strikes swiftly but diminishes just as quickly. Richard’s grief over Mary Montague followed the same trajectory.

During the first week after her passing, Richard didn’t eat, drink, or sleep. By the second week, he managed to drink. By the third week, he reluctantly ate small amounts at Sebastian’s insistence. Eventually, he was able to sleep.

As a full month passed, Richard returned to his old habits of eating, drinking, and sleeping. Though the sharp pangs of sorrow occasionally choked him, his life began to normalize once again.

Yet dull pain was strange. It didn’t leap sharply over the threshold but lingered just below it, softly stimulating the nerves while remaining constant.

Eating, drinking, and sleeping weren’t the issue. He could eat, but the food had no taste. He could drink, but it wasn’t refreshing. He could sleep, but he still felt tired. Gradually, the patterns expanded their range. There was no way Sebastian wouldn’t notice.

It must have something to do with whatever’s gnawing at him like a restless cat.

Sebastian decided that if Richard called his name one more time, he would overturn everything and demand an explanation for the patterns. It didn’t take long for Richard Spencer to crawl into the net Sebastian had laid out.

“Sebastian.”

“……”

When Sebastian didn’t respond, Richard raised his right eyebrow sharply. Then he spoke louder.

“Sebastian.”

Without lifting his eyes from the documents, Sebastian replied, “It’s about Miss Grace Gurton, isn’t it?”

Richard flinched at those words.

Of course. I knew it. He’s at it again.

Glancing sideways at Richard, Sebastian continued, “Just spill it. After Lady Montague’s passing, you’ve had plenty of time to grieve. What’s got you acting like a restless cat now?”

Such bold words would have been unthinkable before. Had Sebastian said something like this in Grentabridge, Richard Spencer would have glared daggers at him.

But since returning to Lydon from Bath, Richard Spencer had been adrift, as if a screw had come loose in his mind. After Lady Montague’s passing, it had gotten worse. Publicly and officially, he performed his duties flawlessly. But in private, he was often lost in worry, like a cat that couldn’t find a place to relieve itself.

“I made a very minor mistake with Grace Gurton.”

A very minor mistake? Then it must be a colossal one.

Richard Spencer was the epitome of “seeing the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the log in his own.” If the Son of God were born in this era, He would surely drag Richard to the Sea of Galilee and scold him thoroughly.

Perhaps He would even have His disciples record Richard’s name in the scriptures as a lesson. Generations of Spencers would feel embarrassed about it.

“If it’s such a minor mistake, wouldn’t Miss Gurton just overlook it?”

“…That’s true.”

Richard Spencer continued visiting the Montague mansion even after Lady Montague’s funeral. Whether to clear up misunderstandings with Anthony Montague or to resolve the businesses Lady Montague left unfinished, his trips to Chelsea had clear purposes.

There were less clear purposes, too. For instance, the hope of ‘accidentally’ running into Grace Gurton and expressing his regret for his rudeness…

But he never caught even a glimpse of Grace Gurton’s shadow. She had deliberately avoided him.

A recent paper by Sir Isaac on stock fraud losses suggested that certain laws of motion govern objects. These included inertia, acceleration, and the law of action and reaction.

Grace Gurton’s one-sided affection for Richard Spencer had originally maintained its momentum due to inertia, moving steadily in one direction. Unrequited love, after all, encounters no external resistance. Thus, its motion didn’t stop.

But the affection eventually became mutual. Even before Richard realized his own feelings, their emotions were already interacting. In other words, the motion now had two participants.

According to the law of action and reaction, two objects exert equal and opposite forces on each other simultaneously.

If you punch a wall, it hurts. That’s because the wall exerts an equal force back on your fist. But if you swing at a shadow, it doesn’t hurt. Loving a shadow doesn’t hurt. Loving a reality, however, causes pain.

According to the law of action and reaction, two objects exert equal and opposite forces on each other simultaneously. And the directions of the two forces are opposite.

If you punch a wall, it hurts. That’s because the wall exerts an equal force back on your fist. But if you swing at a shadow, it doesn’t hurt. Loving a shadow doesn’t hurt. Loving a reality, however, causes pain.

That’s why Grace Gurton retreated deeper into the cave. Her skill at hiding surpassed Freya Spencer’s clumsy attempts to conceal herself behind curtains.

In doing so, the Young Earl of Spencer lost his partner in the dance of action and reaction. Left alone, he became the sole subject of inertia, moving toward a single destination.

Richard set down his quill and rose to his feet. His legs moved as if governed by inertia, and his destination was Chelsea—accelerated by his resolve.