Chapter 6
By the time Arlen arrived at the Sermont estate, a deep, starless darkness had already fallen. The staff of the estate began to murmur when they saw Arlen appear in a carriage bearing the Crawford family crest.
“Where is Madam Regina?”
“Please wait a moment.” At Arlen’s question, a young maid bowed her head and scurried inside.
With no invitation to enter, Arlen waited among the unfamiliar faces. There were many she did not recognize. The servants who had been with the family since before she left were nowhere to be seen, and the mostly young maids only stole curious glances at her. Soon, the main door of the mansion opened, and a middle-aged woman in a black veil ran out and embraced her.
“My goodness, Arlen, what is all this? Welcome, my darling girl.”
Caught in Regina’s embrace, Arlen blinked. Then, over her stepmother’s shoulder, she saw Betty standing there, wringing her hands.
“I heard there was trouble at the station. We were just about to leave, so this is a relief.” Releasing Arlen, Regina lifted her black veil and put on a woeful expression. Regina looked just as Arlen remembered her, unchanged, even after a decade.
“More importantly, Mother, you’ve already held Father’s funeral?”
In that instant, Regina’s cold gaze fixed on Betty’s face before shifting away. Startled, Betty moved her lips as if to deny saying anything, then quickly bowed her head. Regina sighed and pressed a handkerchief to the corner of her eye. “We had to hurry, my dear. We didn’t know when those armed protestors might appear. To hold a proper funeral, we had no choice but to move up the date.”
“If that was the reason, you should have sent word sooner.”
Regina sighed as if exhausted. “I sent word in time. It was you who arrived late.”
“What do you mean? I only received the message two days ago.”
“Oh, dear. There must have been a delay somewhere. This is why the countryside is so inconvenient for correspondence.”
The conversation shifted to blaming the late telegram. Arlen grew frustrated. “But even so—”
“Yes, yes. It is unfortunate, but what is done is done. Hurry inside and rest, you must be exhausted from your journey.” Cutting off Arlen’s next words—How could you?—Regina gestured vaguely at the maids to bring in the luggage.
“Mother, what I mean is…”
“Honestly. Mother said she’s sorry, but you just keep whining.”
At the sudden, insolent voice, Arlen turned her head to see a man standing there, clad only in a loose shirt. Regina, who had been feigning exhaustion, smiled gently and pulled the man with the same fiery red hair as her own closer. “Oh, how forgetful of me. Arlen, this is your brother.”
“My… brother?”
“My son from a previous marriage. He moved in a while ago and has been living with us.” At this unexpected news, Arlen looked back and forth between her stepmother and the man, in disbelief. She had never heard that her stepmother had another child, nor had she ever seen it mentioned in any of the letters her father had sent.
“Your father adopted me, which legally makes me your older brother.”
“I’ve never heard anything of the sort.”
“You’re hearing it now,” he added with a chuckle.
Arlen’s brow furrowed. A strong, nauseating smell of alcohol wafted from the man, who spoke with a flippancy that showed no grasp of etiquette. It was customary to abstain from alcohol for a month after a funeral to mourn the deceased. The man, who had broken even that basic custom, grinned. “Welcome, Arlen. I hope we get along.”
He patted Arlen’s shoulder and grinned crassly, baring his teeth. In that moment, any relief she had felt at returning to the home she had longed for had dissipated from her heart.
* * *
The sky, clear just that morning, had vanished, replaced by a torrential downpour that hammered violently against the ground. Arlen stared with hollow eyes at the gravestone bearing the name McKinley Sermont. Her hand, clutching the rain-soaked hem of her skirt, trembled. Early that morning, she had slipped out of the mansion with only Betty and made her way to the Saint-Paul district, where the noble cemetery was located. The world was a hazy blur, shrouded in rain, but to Arlen, whose vision was already clouded with tears, it made little difference.
“Hic… F-Father…” A grief-stricken sob tore from her throat. The unbearable guilt of having missed his funeral was overwhelming. The image of her father’s bright smile, from when he had visited her at the academy in Nortonburg for her twentieth birthday two years ago, was still so vivid. She never dreamed it would be the last time…
Betty approached her side, her face a mask of guilt. “Miss, I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” she stammered. “I was going to tell you in the carriage, but the situation…”
“I don’t understand why the news was so delayed. Nortonburg may be far, but it’s just one train ride away.”
There were too many things that didn’t add up. The late notice, the rushed funeral. “And where has everyone else gone? I don’t see Mila, the head maid, or Calton, the butler.”
As if expecting the question, Betty’s expression darkened. “As soon as you left for Nortonburg, the madam dismissed all the existing servants. I was almost kicked out, too, but the master intervened, saying I was still young and should be kept on.”
“Father just accepted everything she said?”
“Yes. She complained for a long time that she was uncomfortable with people who had served the former madam and wanted them replaced.”
The year she had believed herself happy with her stepmother now felt like a lie. The woman she knew now was completely different. The sorrow of that truth brought fresh tears to Arlen’s eyes. A bitter ache spread through her chest at the reality that there was no one left here who cared for her.
“Betty, why didn’t you come to the police station?”
“That… I…” Betty’s lips parted and closed several times, unable to form the words. “I’m sorry.”
That was all she said. Arlen bit the inside of her lip. She tried to believe there must have been a reason, but a strange suspicion kept creeping in, making her feel like a petty, awful person.
“Miss. We should go now.” Unable to watch Arlen tremble any longer, Betty gently took her arm. The young lady’s face was as white as a sheet.
Arlen knew her shivering wasn’t from the cold, but she could only shake her head slowly in response. Watching her stare endlessly at the tombstone in the pouring rain, Betty felt her heart break. “You’ll fall ill if you stay out here.”
Deciding she had to intervene, Betty pulled on Arlen’s arm, hailed a carriage, and quickly ushered her inside. “I’ll have a bath drawn as soon as we get back to the mansion.”
“I don’t want to go back right now.” Arlen shook her head, her shoulders slumped. No matter what her stepmother’s reasons were, the hurt she felt wouldn’t vanish in an instant. I never knew I could be so fickle. The face of Sister Theresa, who would surely scold her for letting her education go to waste, flashed in her mind.
“Then, let’s go to Loa Square. There’s a place called Sweetish Bakery that sells the most wonderful desserts. They say one bite is enough to make you happy. It will lift your spirits.”
Arlen, who had been staring blankly out the window, gave a nod, and the carriage changed course and moved on.
