Chapter 6
6
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Meanwhile, Walter stared intently at the woman's receding figure. In this ornate chapel, Grace seemed to shine alone. Perhaps it was because of her silvery-white wedding dress, or perhaps it was because she possessed rare blonde hair.
Joseph was too busy enjoying the chaos in the chapel.
"This is the most fun I've had in years! I've been wandering the Wall of Death, fighting tooth and nail against all sorts of Magical beasts and invisible creatures, so there's been nothing to laugh about! This is so exciting!!"
"Oh, the Countess Sachsen has collapsed, clutching her neck! And the Duchess Taylor too… yes, collapsing as if on cue! Oh! Suddenly, Viscount Sachsen is trying to punch the Taylor Heir! Ah, he really can't punch, can he? What is that, a powder puff?"
The rare spectacle was so captivating that none of the distinguished guests left the chapel.
Walter glanced at the excited Joseph with disdain, then straightened up from his casual leaning posture. That alone changed his aura. When Joseph, who had been excitedly watching the scene, turned to Walter for commentary, he was already descending the chapel steps.
"Ah… are you leaving already?"
Joseph glanced back with lingering regret. But when he turned his face back to Walter, he had a clean expression as if he had shaken off all regrets.
Walter passed Rosette, who was berating the servants, and stepped into the cloister. The Taylor crest, engraved with ears of wheat, was vivid even in his fleeting vision.
The moment he recalled the golden hair, elegantly styled like softly curved golden ears of wheat, a letter disguised as a wedding invitation flashed through his mind.
[To His Grace, Duke Richmond.
If you would grace my wedding with your presence, you will obtain the sharpest sword to protect your secrets. That sword will be the most useful in the hunt you have been preparing.
—From Grace Taylor.]
The sharpest sword to protect his secrets.
That one sentence had drawn him here. The black eyes in his sharp gaze gleamed like those of a predator before its prey.
'My secrets, eh?'
The sharpest sword. That must refer to Grace Taylor herself. Then what 'secret' of his does she know?
＊ ＊ ＊
Rosette, who had been furiously scolding the servants, turned around, panting, just as Duke and Duchess Taylor were exiting the chapel with flushed faces.
"Father, Mother!!"
Rosette rushed over, her skirts billowing, and said in an excited voice.
"You must catch Grace, that insolent thing, immediately!"
The Duke, his face red and purple, ordered the butler standing beside him in a hushed voice.
"Arrest that wench immediately, lock her in her room, and don't let her out for a single step. No, no. I'll go myself now."
He had to whip her into fixing this mess she had created. Rosette nodded in agreement beside him.
"Do you know what that girl said? She told me to marry Viscount Sachsen instead?!"
"What?!"
As the Duchess raised her voice, trembling, Countess Sachsen, who followed them out of the chapel, shouted as if for everyone to hear.
"Honey!! The debt that the Taylor Dukedom was supposed to have forgiven, we should have received it last month, right?!"
"That's right!"
"Let's just receive it today and go back!!"
At the thunderbolt-like words, the Duke and Duchess, who had been burning with anger at Grace, were startled and turned around at the same time.
Today?! How could they possibly raise that much money right away?
As if reading the Duke and Duchess's minds, the Countess Sachsen added, pursing her lips.
"If you don't have cash, you can pay in kind! Jewelry, dresses, pottery!! If you can't pay today, I'll ask Her Majesty the Empress to turn your Dukedom upside down to get it!!"
The Countess's threat turned Duke Taylor's mind blank. Heir William watched this scene from afar before disappearing as if fleeing.
"Butler……."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Then how much do we have to pay today? Ah, no… do we have any cash in the vault?"
The end of his voice cracked. The butler stuck close to the Duke's back and whispered softly.
"I'm sorry, but it's far from enough. As the Countess said, we can barely manage if we pay in kind as well……."
Just then, Rosette came into the Duke's sight. The Duke's brow furrowed at the sight of his daughter wearing an extraordinary amount of jewelry.
"Rosette, why did you buy so much jewelry?!!"
"What do you mean, so much……?"
"What do you mean, so much?! Take off everything you're wearing and bring it here!!"
"Ah, Father!!"
"Quiet!"
As the Duke raged, clutching his head, the butler supported him as if he had been waiting for it.
"Your Grace, let's go to your office first. There are too many eyes watching."
"What are you talking about? We have to catch Grace and punish her first!!"
"You must put out the urgent fire first. I will have the servants arrest the Princess."
"Father, make Grace kneel before Count Sachsen and finish this marriage. Then we won't have to pay the debt!!"
Rosette cried out, but the Duke, already despondent, leaned on the butler and staggered away.
Being a Duke was not easy. There was too much to think about. When things piled up like this, he only craved alcohol. How wonderful would it be if everything was resolved when he woke up after a drink and a sleep?
"Honey!"
"Quiet. You too, hand over the jewelry you're wearing."
"Really!! Where is Mrs. Cornwall at a time like this?!!"
The Duchess and Rosette followed the Duke with pale faces, while the butler slyly glanced somewhere.
＊ ＊ ＊
Contrary to Duke Taylor's orders, Grace was moving secretly through the secret passage of Taylor Duke's Castle.
The dark underground, where no light penetrated. The musty, humid smell seemed to numb her nose, but Grace didn't care. Even as she moved with the aid of a dim lamp, Grace's steps were unfaltering.
At the end of the straight path, a staircase appeared after turning right once. At the end of this staircase, there was a space leading to the outside of the Duke's Castle.
The moment Grace grabbed her cumbersome dress with one hand and stepped onto the stairs, a thin ray of light leaked from above. Grace raised her head as she climbed the stairs. She could see someone's silhouette.
As she climbed the stairs further, the lamp Grace held illuminated the face of the person waiting. A middle-aged woman with dark gray eyes and gray hair bowed politely.
"Mrs. Cornwall."
Mrs. Cornwall, the Head Maid of the Taylor Dukedom, had been waiting with Grace for the past 13 years.
At Grace's call, Mrs. Cornwall raised her head and hurriedly closed the door to the passage she had come through. Then, she took off Grace's wedding dress and put on a simple navy blue dress that had been prepared. As she added a black hooded cloak over it, the woman whispered quickly.
"He is staying at the top of Maxwell Inn on 4th Street. Some of his luggage is still there, so he will probably come back."
"I understand."
"Princess, if things don't go well……."
"There is no 'if'."
Grace cut off the worried words. In the dim lamplight, the two women's eyes met. Grace stared at the dark gray eyes before taking her wrinkled hand.
"Mrs. Cornwall."
"……."
"You know. There is no 'if'."
"Princess……."
Mrs. Cornwall's eyes turned red. Grace squeezed the hand she was holding tightly, then pulled her lips into a smile. At the innocent and kind smile, Mrs. Cornwall swallowed the rising tears.
"We'll get caught like this. If they find out I'm gone, there will be a huge commotion, so please protect the remaining people."
"…Don't worry. Jessie will follow soon."
Grace nodded as if she believed it, then turned around. Mrs. Cornwall hurriedly opened the door connected to the outside of the castle. Bright and sharp light, incomparable to the light of the lamp, poured in. For a moment, she couldn't see in front of her, but Grace didn't even squint and went straight out the door. A familiar coachman quickly opened the carriage door.
Mrs. Cornwall desperately followed Grace's back with her eyes. Her back, climbing into the carriage, looked particularly small and frail. Tears finally flowed from her gray eyes and fell down her chin.
'Mrs. Cornwall, I will reclaim Taylor. So please help me.'
When everyone was immersed in grief over the sudden death of the late Duke and Duchess, the one who stood up alone was Grace. Holding the hand of a mere 10-year-old girl, Mrs. Cornwall stood up. From then on, her master was Grace.
Around Princess Grace, Taylor's people gathered again. They watched, planned, and waited. Mrs. Cornwall becoming a close aide to Emma Taylor was also part of the plan.
Mrs. Cornwall stared at the departing carriage and bowed politely. The face she raised again was as cold and emotionless as usual.
Soon, the woman closed and locked the door to the secret room connected to the secret passage, pushed Grace's discarded wedding dress into a black sack, and stepped into the dark underground passage.
Earnestly praying that the true owner of Taylor Duke's Castle would safely return.
