When the freezing winter winds sweep in [Novel] Chapter 16 – A Stroll and a Confession

From the office, the view clearly showed moisture-heavy clouds rolling in from the sea across the front grounds. Yet under the tree atop the garden hill, the governess leaned against the trunk, entirely motionless. Nearby, her horse could be seen quietly grazing.

‘She must have fallen asleep.’

Should she be caught in the rain, she would catch cold, and nursing her illness would disrupt the lessons.

‘A troublesome woman.’

That was why Baldur had ridden out the moment he spotted the storm clouds. And yet, looking back, sending a servant would surely have been the far more reasonable choice. Without once questioning his own impulse, Baldur arrived beneath the shade of the poplar, where the governess remained lost in slumber.

A book lay discarded near her hand, suggesting she had drifted off while reading. He picked it up and brushed off the dust. He had always wondered what she read. Upon checking the title, one of his brows twitched upward.

‘I have never read this one.’

Though he had read through most of the library, he had not gone through every volume. The vast collection had been accumulated across generations, from his forebears to his father. Standing there, he briefly skimmed the pages before tucking the book into his back trousers pocket.

Meanwhile, the clouds drew dangerously close. Even if he woke her now, she would be drenched before reaching the manor. Yet strangely, beholding Jeanne’s face with both eyes closed, Baldur found himself reluctant to wake her.

‘Was this truly her face?’

Rather, he simply wished to look upon it. As though gazing into a limpid lake.

Whenever she faced him, the governess was always dreadfully intimidated. Considering her employer held not only her livelihood but her very life in his hands, it was only natural. Moreover, he was well aware of his own grim reputation.

‘Small wonder she fears me.’

Fear was a useful instrument for a ruler. Whether dealing with foe or ally, it was far better to be feared than loved. While a man might plant a dagger in the back of someone he loved, he dared not harm someone he dreaded. For that reason, he had always found his notoriety serviceable.

‘And yet, I thought I was fairly gentle.’

Still, the fact that this governess feared him sat strangely ill with him. Was it because she was so harmless she could never harm a single strand of his hair, let alone plunge a blade into his back? Baldur could hardly conceive of this woman posing any threat to him.

‘Short of poison, how could she ever hurt me?’

It was a thought he could harbor only because he had no inkling that, in the near future, this very woman would tear his heart to ribbons.

Regardless, the woman before him slept profoundly. On her sleeping face, the dread she showed when looking at him was entirely absent; she looked purely at peace. And so he wished she would not open her eyes. For once they opened, that serenity would vanish instantly.

“…”

For a long while, Baldur silently studied Jeanne’s face. The smooth arc of her brow, her dark, neat eyebrows, the thick sweep of her lashes, the line of her nose extending straight from her forehead, and the slight twitch of her lips as she dreamt whatever dream held her.

As she slept, a faint shiver ran through her frame. At that, his gaze shifted to her attire. The governess wore a gown adorned with elaborate decorations over the bodice, reminiscent of his mother’s old dresses. He frowned.

‘Is such dress still the fashion?’

The gown was far too thin to withstand the climate here.

* * *

‘Where on earth did that book go?’

With each passing day, my heart grew heavy as waterlogged wool.

‘I truly must tell Madame Pauline now.’

Even on the day I made that resolve, I went out riding upon Brül. Lost in thought, I let her carry me wherever she pleased, only to find myself halted before the apple orchard. When I finally gathered my wits, the sweet, crisp fragrance of apples permeated the air. Drawn by the scent, Brül turned toward me, pricking her leaf-shaped ears.

I stroked Brül’s mane. Beyond the orchard fence stood wild apple trees growing naturally, their branches heavy with fruit left unpicked by the workers, drooping so low they seemed ready to snap. Though somewhat small, mouthwatering apples lay scattered everywhere in abundance, and Brül happily crunched through one after another. Deer and squirrels were partaking of the feast as well.

‘Should I… take a few too?’

They were not from the tended orchard and the wild animals were freely enjoying them, so I thought it would do no harm to gather a few for an evening snack in my room. With that, I dismounted. The trouble was, I had no pockets. While riding, both hands must hold the reins. Nor could I stuff them into my cheeks like a squirrel. What was I to do?

Hesitating, I cast a glance around. Being an out-of-the-way corner, no one was in sight. I resolved to gather a few apples into the folds of my skirt. My plan was to cradle them within the hem, knot the excess fabric into a makeshift pouch while riding, and carry them in my hands once I dismounted. It was hardly conduct befitting a gentlewoman, but what did it matter? No one was there to see.

Gathering up the skirts naturally laid my legs bare. Leaning low to inspect the fallen fruit, I chose those that were plump and unbruised, placing them carefully into my skirt. I had not intended to take many, but once I began gathering, I became entirely absorbed in the task.

‘Did I gather too many? Perhaps I should give some to Brül.’

Lost in my apple picking, I straightened my stiff back, only for my eyes to latch onto a figure.

It was him. Baldur de Skadi, the Duke.

‘Gasp!’

They say an enemy appears wherever you go, and my plight was precisely that. The instant I saw him, shock loosened my grip on my hem. As the apples tumbled in a chaotic cascade, his gaze met mine. Never before had those green eyes struck me with such staggering intensity. Had he seen everything?

Without breaking his gaze, the Duke strode deliberately toward me.

The Duke spoke with sharp brusqueness.

‘Are you… speaking out of concern right now?’

His manner of speaking was something I could never grow accustomed to. I bowed my head in haste. To look at it the other way, his reason for coming to such an untrodden place must have been to seek solitude.

‘I had better vanish quickly.’

My eyes darted about for Brül. She had her nose buried beneath an apple tree, thoroughly engrossed in eating.

Yet he uttered something utterly unexpected.

“Pardon?”

A thought struck me.

‘I am thoroughly trapped.’

Yet what choice had I? In the end, I had no escape from strolling alongside him.

Determined not to commit the discourtesy of falling into awkward silence, I prattled on, detailing how Lady Ana spent her days and what lessons she was presently focusing on. When I had finished, the Duke remarked:

With that, our conversation ground to a prolonged halt. Tilting back my stiff neck, I looked up at the sky.

‘This is sheer torture.’

Not another word came to mind.

It was then that the missing book flared abruptly in my mind. Yes. Now was the opportune moment to confess to the book’s owner that I had lost it.

Yet the instant the resolve formed, cold sweat broke out along my back.

‘Must I truly do it now? Would it not… be better to confide quietly in Madame Pauline instead?’

From that point on, it felt as though I were walking with chestnut burrs clutched in both palms. My conscience pricked me mercilessly to confess my fault. My fingers repeatedly curled and uncurled.

‘If I had known this would happen, I would have spoken to Madame Pauline yesterday.’

It was a case of escaping the fox only to run straight into the tiger. I debated waiting until tonight to confess to Madame Pauline. But the reprimands of my conscience were unrelenting, and I could bear the weight no longer.