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Crisis
" Louis "
His blood froze as he let go of his friend's arm, who in turn was alerted by his grandmother's cracked voice and her tall, grim-faced shadow looming over them from high up at the front of the stairs.
"Good night, Grandma." Louis smiled nervously, catching sight of Harold struggling to stand up next to him. His voice hoarse, his tongue heavy with alcohol, he spoke. "Hello, Mrs. Legrent."
The older woman gave him a look of disdain before turning to her grandson, her eyes sharply focused. "You're late."
Louis scratched his neck in aggravation. He knew he wouldn't be spared her rebuke, which would be quite harsh after that incident. Her calm, despite her angry glare, was the driving force of the moment as he cleared his throat, feeling Harold lean gently against him to calm down. "We got a little carried away with the party."
"Yes, yes. You should have seen all the beauties at the party, Mrs. Leverent." Harold laughed heavily, groggily, and curled his lips as he watched his grandmother's reaction, which was uneasy. He saw her hand grip her cane so tightly that its edges turned blue as she wished them goodnight and left without another word.
But he was sure that the situation would not pass peacefully without some kind of reproach from her. He was twenty-four years old, the only living man in the Leverent family, after all. And yet he was turning into a guilty child in the eyes of his grandmother, who never abandoned her strictness or treated him like a reckless boy
"Take it easy."
Harold lay comfortably on the well-made bed, hugging one of the pillows with a half-smile as Louis stripped him of his shoes. He felt him lean his shoulder against his side, taking a deep breath. He gently parted his eyelids and murmured, "Your grandmother looked angry."
"Do you think?"
Louis looked flat-faced for a tense minute before their laughter harmonized, and Harold buried his face in the pillow, sighing, letting the echo of their pent-up giggles dissipate in a sluggish smile. "Man, you need to get married."
"To be alone between two women? I wouldn't last much with them." Louis sneered low as he slid flat-backed next to his companion, who lifted his head onto his lap pillow, placing his blue eyes against his green ones and smiling. "You're the one who needs to get married. One woman should stop you."
"No, no, no, Harold Sigrid doesn't marry. I'm better off without a woman in my life." Harold said the same phrase that always crossed his tongue whenever the topic of marriage crossed their minds. For whatever reason and circumstance, that wasn't the point of their future plans.
Silence allied itself with the playfulness of the night birds outside and the effects of the party dominating their limbs, which slackened on the wide bed in the darkness of the perforated room. Louis watched the moonlit ceiling with an absent face, before listening to his friend's whispering voice.
"You really have to find a wife, Louis."
The sun rose on a bitter January Thursday afternoon in the heart of the overcast London sky, witnessing the movement of pedestrians between the illuminated streets beneath his still eyes. The calm calm descended upon him as he listened to the harpist whose tune echoed off the walls of the upscale café, sipping his hot tea with relish.
Louis glanced at his pocket watch for the second time in the quarter of an hour he waited for the arrival of his reckless friend, whom he had spotted ten minutes earlier accompanying a woman on the other side of the road, late for the tea time they had scheduled together that morning.
He was sipping the last drops of tea that had helped him relax when the café door opened and Harold entered with his bright smile, waving to him happily as he lifted his hat and removed his coat, taking his seat opposite Louis and catching his breath. "Sorry to be late. Something's come up."
"Sometimes I have a feeling I'll have to follow you everywhere lest your carelessness get you into trouble." Louie raised an eyebrow, putting the teacup aside while Harold shrugged and gently brushed his temple bangs. "It was a lovely young lady asking me where the post office was, and being the gentleman that I am, I had to take her there myself."
"Yes, and you, in doing good, can never say no."
Harold chuckled at his friend's sarcasm before answering the waiter's question about his request with a cup of warm tea with fresh mint leaves, and clasped his fingers on the counter with a half-smile. "So, how are you these days?"
With a long sigh, Louis's desperate answer was clear. "Nothing new. My grandmother still refuses to speak to me since the night of the party, not to mention Councilor Cornelius' warnings that I should find a way to pay off my father's debts before the deadline, which is approaching while I stand still."
Harold's lips curled in displeasure. Things were not good with his friend, and despite his jokes here and there, he was distressed by his inability to do anything to help him, let alone accompany him for long to think of a solution after his grandmother's order that Harold not enter their house again, which limited their meetings to cafes and restaurants.
"I'm leaving in two hours for the Ilgan Estate. Perhaps my Uncle Albert will be able to help me with that predicament." Louis lit his cigarette with a wooden face and blew the smoke at them. Harold leaned against the table, but no sooner had he uttered his first words than the waiter arrived with the teacup and sugar glass, swallowing his conversation for a moment, until he left
"You know how much I like and respect Albert for being different from the rest of your family, but we both know he can't help you, Louis. And I don't think you're going to the manor for that."
They both kept the conversation whisper-quiet. Harold gave his friend a serious, searching look from behind his mug, and Louis let out a sigh that betrayed his anguish.
"I need some peace, Harold. Everything that's going on is making me nervous. And I need some time to sort out my thoughts and figure out what to do with all this—away from Grandma, away from Zane Haroun, away from everything."
Harold pursed his lips in a momentary silence as the soft harp melody dominated the warm atmosphere of the café until his empty mug clinked gently on his plate. "When are you coming back from there?"
"In a week. Unless something new happens."
The man with the twisted beliefs nodded wordlessly, despite his eyes, which spoke of something lurking on the tip of his hesitant tongue. Harold lightly bit the inside of his cheek, watching the flicker of smoke that escaped his friend's cigarette before tucking the extinguished stub into the side of his teacup and sighing.
"Do you know what might solve this problem of yours?" he began softly, catching Louis's attention. He looked at him with a knitted brow and waited attentively. Harold's green cheeks glowed with excitement. "You must find a wife!"
"What does marriage have to do with me? And why do you keep bringing that subject up so much these days?" Louis sneered, frowning at Harold's impulsiveness. He folded his arms, eagerly explaining his idea.
"You don't understand, Louis. Think about it. You're from a large, distinguished family. You're handsome, you studied engineering, and you have a good reputation. Any woman would wait for a word from you. With a single gesture, you could make the most prestigious family in the kingdom fall in love with you. And if you married a wealthy woman, you could simply pay off your debts and get a beautiful wife at the same time!"
Louis stared at him for a long moment, as if unable to find an adequate answer to that impassioned suggestion, until he slowly shook his head and frowned. "I won't do that, Harold. I can't marry a woman just for her money. It's exploitative and inhuman. That's principle."
My friend, you are in a crisis, like the one the kingdom sometimes faces from time to time. In an age of crisis, there are no principles, only logical thinking. This is the only solution that will save you and the family name!
Louie objected with a successive denial, insisting on speaking despite Harold's persuasive urgings, exploiting his crisis and urging him to abandon his principles and submit to the futile language of political diplomacy that transforms marriage from a sacred love contract into a ludicrous deal.
"Let's assume I agree. Do you have any suggestions? Enlighten me." Louie rested his chin on his fist, following Harold's lead, who stiffened for a moment at his sudden question, before smiling sideways and whispering. "What do you think of Siggin Palom?"
Like someone who had woven the dialogue and anticipated the question and the flow of the conversation. Louis was stunned and unexpectedly looked at the other's response with a hint of humor that explained much of his rhetoric since they had met the suspicious blonde woman for the first and last time.
"That's funny." That was all he had said with a half-laugh. Harold must have been joking, as usual, when he suggested that he marry Sigin Pallum, the English Casanova. Not after he had warned him not to rub shoulders with her and to avoid her; this was all one of his heavy jokes.
Ever since that party that had brought him misfortune, he had avoided encountering her at any time, which sometimes made him watch her door from his study window, careful not to meet her. How delighted he had been when he saw her this morning getting into a carriage with a large suitcase of clothes while her brother was seeing her off, so that Louis could conclude that she was going somewhere.
She was never a lady he should have rubbed shoulders with
Think about it. She's a beautiful, independent, wealthy, and famous bird, a fine example of the perfect wife. You didn't notice her glances at you at the party, Louis! You totally stole her attention!
"I'm not having this discussion," he offered briefly.
He couldn't believe he was having that conversation now. After everything that had happened. After everything he had seen, that woman aroused in him every feeling of contempt and revulsion with her reckless, vicious actions. She was a woman without an ounce of self-respect.
"Why?"
"You didn't see what I saw, Harold."
He was never going to reveal what he had seen that night as she had allowed a man to embrace her so shamelessly before his eyes. She was a pervert, and he didn't even want to replay her actions or recall what he had seen in his mind
"Nor is she my type." He blurted out the sentence quickly, placing the money on the table with a frown and getting up as Harold picked up his hat and coat later and headed outside, where their spirits were refreshed by a gust of cool, modern air.
"And since when do you have a type?" Harold sneered in a low, stubborn tone, trailing off down the sidewalk and giving him a side-eye. "Any man has a type."
Raising an eyebrow in disapproval at his answer, Harold breathed patiently. "I was in France for five years on my own, Harold. Of course, I had a few flings and met a few women. And you can be sure, the blondes among them weren't the type to approach. Now shut that subject up and put it out of your mind."
Harold pursed his lips stubbornly, tilting his head forward to relax his features and smiling a winking smile at Louis, who followed his gaze without understanding, only to be met a few steps away by Simon Palom, wearing a velvet coat and a round hat, holding what looked like a painting covered in light paper.
"Talking about the Paloms." Harold began with an intent look, which made Louis glare at him warningly, showing no desire to come into contact with anyone from that family. However, what was on his friend's mind was more serious, as he slipped out of his grasp and quickly stopped the blond with a pat on the shoulder.
Louis cursed under his breath with a threatening growl as he slowed down to catch up with his annoying companion, who welcomed Simon with such joy and warmth that the former struggled to present with a forced smile, while stealing the attention of the audience. "Mr. Palom, welcome."
"Louie! So glad to see you!"
When Simon smiled brightly and warmly enveloped his outstretched hand, he felt bad. The younger Sigin Palom brother was so friendly and kind that it made Louie feel ashamed of himself for picking on his sister's mistakes, even though the blond might never know what that woman does in the dark.
"So, where are you going?" Harold asked, glancing curiously at the wrapped painting. Simon maintained his broad smile, declaring, "I have an appointment with Mr. Victor, owner of the Solgaran Gallery. Sigin has finished one of her paintings, and Mr. Victor is helping me frame it properly so it doesn't tear."
"Wow, I didn't know she could paint." Harold nudged Louis's side subtly, beckoning him to join the conversation, but the latter was sullen and just wanted to leave.
He hated standing with someone he wasn't comfortable with.
Simon shook his head proudly and hugged the painting tightly to his chest. "Yes. It's a hobby she does in her spare time to amuse herself. Her husband was a painter, and she learned from him."
"Which one?" Louis blurted out, drowning out every footstep passing by and catching the atmosphere of the three men in a tense atmosphere after his question, which sounded both bold and slightly embarrassed, even though Simon's expression didn't waver an inch. "The third. Lord Edward Murray. He was a famous painter."
Harold gripped Louis's forearm tightly, as if to warn him against his tongue, which sometimes let loose with inappropriate talk. He smiled awkwardly, trying to dispel the spark his friend had just created. "And how is Mrs. Seqin these days?"
"She's fine! Even if she has a slight cold, she can't stand winter at all. She left this morning for Ilgan to enjoy the quiet environment and pleasant weather in the country to help her recover."
Louis's throat went dry with bitterness as he heard the blond's sentence repeat itself in his mind over and over again, as if relishing the prospect of ruining his early pleasure at seeing her leave in the morning, thinking he wouldn't see her for some time until he returned from the country estate
But fate was driven by weak feet.
Harold's greenery shone with amazement as Louis read the idea he had been pressing on him a moment ago, and he breathed heavily.
Really? Louis's uncle owns an estate and a cherry farm there, and Louis is even going there today. What a wonderful coincidence!
It wasn't a wonderful coincidence at all. Not as Louis thought it would be.
"Really? That's nice, maybe they'll meet one day." Louis smiled faintly at the blond before the latter bid them farewell, hurrying to catch his appointment, leaving Harold to glare at him, causing Louis to roll his eyes in annoyance.
"Nice offer. But forget it, Harold. I'm never going to meet that woman there."
Dusk was dominating the sky, a pale pink, painted by winter's stubborn brush, adding a touch of beauty as it descended over the genteel English neighborhood. The sound of sunset birds merged with the bell of the Legrent house, which jingled, causing Louis to lift his head from his bag.
He left his folded clothes aside and made his way downstairs to where his grandmother sat by the living room fireplace, reading, and Oliver, the houseboy, was talking to someone on the doorstep.
"Who's it, Oliver?"
"It's Mr. Simon Palom, sir."
Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise, noticing his grandmother's sudden movement as she jumped up from her seat. He motioned for the servant to go while he rounded the door to face the blond with his gently parted mouth. "Hello, Louis!"
"It's Mr. Simon Palom, sir."
Louie raised his eyebrows in surprise, noticing his grandmother's sudden movement as she jumped up from her seat. He motioned for the servant to go while he rounded the door to face the blond with his gently parted smile. "Hello, Louie!"
"Hello, Mr. Palom."
He didn't hide the questioning look in his eyes, and the second held up a small box in front of him, giving him the look of a shy student.
"Harold said you were on foot for Ilgan today, and I was wondering if you could deliver this to Seqin. I would mail it, but that would take time, so I thought I'd ask you for that favor. That is, if you don't mind, of course!"
How could he refuse in front of that polite face? Strangely, that twenty-one-year-old boy was so friendly that he marveled at his sister's malice and the foul deeds she committed. It was as if they had never borne fruit from the same branch
"Yes, yes. Of course."
Simon smiled brightly as Louie picked up the box, which was lighter than a feather, showing immense gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Louie. I hope this isn't too much of a burden for you. I'll leave you now so as not to bore you. Thanks again!"
Simon walked away with every word of his last sentence, leaving Louie on his doorstep with a light box that weighed heavily on the scales of his fading feelings, which showed no desire for a new meeting.
Perhaps he was exaggerating his avoidance of a woman who lived on the other side and whose brother had forced him into a pleasant relationship, but with whom he was uncomfortable, for he had not grown up with a woman like her. She was different in some mysterious way
Desire for a new encounter.
Perhaps he was exaggerating his avoidance of a woman who lived on the other side and whose brother had forced him into a gentle relationship, but with whom he was uncomfortable, for he had not grown up around a woman like her. She was different in a mysterious way.
"Louie." He blinked at his grandmother's sharp call, turning so she could see the box and clench her jaws briefly. "What did that profane young man give you?"
What a way for his grandmother to be talking to him again after the slap of a Palom party. Louie licked his lips with a sigh and gripped the box with tight hands. "Package. He wants me to deliver it to someone in Elvan."
Doubt was in her eyes. She approached him with her cane, which chimed as sternly as her expression, until she glanced at the paper taped to the front of the box, where it said, "Elevan Country Town - Palom Estate." 66
The older woman didn't say a word as she raised her head to him, maintaining the same steely gaze that made him tense at her sudden anger. "Burn that desecrated thing, Louie. Anything from that house is contaminated."
"What? No! That's a trust, Grandma." He countered sarcastically, surprised by her strange request, which wasn't surprising given her intense and bizarre hatred for Sigin Palom and her brother. They may have been shady, but not to the horrid degree of loathing his grandmother expressed at length whenever they were mentioned.
She hated them with a passion.
The woman knitted her eyebrows firmly and blurted out a repulsive outburst. "What if it's something illegal and that rotten boy is using you as his messenger? Whatever's in that box will only bring misfortune!"
The lady frowned firmly and said with a repulsive impulse, "What if it's something illegal and that corrupt boy is using you as his messenger? Whatever is inside that box will only bring disaster!"
His lips straightened in the face of her stubborn insistence. He knew how bigoted his grandmother was and how strict she was in her decisions, and perhaps he was convinced of her suspicions and reserved judgments about the two brothers inside him... But Simon Palom had turned to him and asked him with such kindness that he was embarrassed, and he would never have appeared to be a lowly man in front of him.
He explained his final position to his grandmother with a calmness that contrasted with the rage that flared in her eyes as she glanced at the box one last time before returning to her seat with a face clouded with indignation and anger that possessed her
Louis dropped the small box next to his bag, devoting the rest of his attention to the things he hadn't yet been deprived of, which were only a quarter of an hour away from leaving for the train station. His grandmother's words were running through his mind, stinging his doubts that hadn't left their roots, even though their resonant scent had emanated inside him, so he looked at the box with an eager look.
He knew that opening it would be extremely rude of him, but one look to ensure the contents weren't bad wouldn't hurt. Right? He pursed his lips and knitted his eyebrows decisively as he opened the box with stiff fingers, his features widening in surprise.
A blue silk scarf.
Its texture was extremely soft for his fingers, which gripped the headscarf folded inside the box, and the sweet scent of jasmine penetrated his nose, which he inhaled pleasantly, feeling his limbs relax at the softness of its texture and the sweetness of its scent
It was nothing but a charming scarf that the younger brother wanted to send to the distant blonde lady. It wasn't anything serious. He put the scarf back in its place and smiled mockingly at himself and his intentions, which were tainted by flimsy suspicions.
Perhaps he had only been too quick to judge.
The threads of the cold night were intertwined with clouds that roamed the English sky, liberating its snowflakes before the eyes that contemplated the creative painting in which the snowy season shared with enchanting nature, painting a picturesque rural scene that the heart yearns for with love.
The carriage moved freely against the rebellious winds between the orchards and fields that flourished with fruit trees and roses that exhaled a soft nectar that seized the senses, making them fall prey to an unquenchable love. All of those English rural appearances held peace in Louis's chest, as he watched them calmly through his carriage window
The moon, with its eroded edges, cast its pure light on the town of Ilgan, famous for its fresh fruit and flowering trees, while a fresh, clear breeze stung his body as he got out of the carriage in front of his uncle Albert Wilson's house, which was situated among cherry fields that had grown pink roses whose fragrance filled the air.
That place had always been his soother and the source of his comfort. He spent nearly two years of his childhood on that estate, immersed in his uncle's unique world, filled with various books, soft melodies, and a love of fruit that transcended the stages of obsession.
Although his uncle was from a distinguished family, he was completely different from them. He did not care about wealth or prestigious position, but rather focused on his hobby and created for himself an earthly bliss that would make him independent of the city's pleasures and deceptive appearances. For this reason, he was closest to Louis's heart
"Welcome, Mr. Legrent!"
Louie smiled at the farm's gardener and his uncle Rashdan's assistant, who greeted him with a cheerful face and a welcoming smile. "Hello, Rashdan. How are you?"
"I'm fine, sir. Mr. Wilson is eagerly awaiting you!"
Louie handed him his bag and the small box as they side by side toward the door of the dazzlingly lit house, which made him feel warm and comfortable with its beautiful appearance. It was as if he had been lost for years and his soul had been restored upon arriving in that magical paradise.
"Louie!" Albert Wilson's face lit up as he greeted his only and favorite nephew at the doorstep with a warm hug, which made Louie smile. How he truly felt he had come home with that warm embrace. "How lovely to have you here again."
"Yes. I guess city life just isn't for me anymore." Louis sneered, his small smile fading as his uncle pulled away, wrapping his shoulder tightly around him as he led him into the house, which was lit with fragrant candles that perfumed the place with the scent of lavender, relaxing his limbs as they rested on a bench by the fireplace.
"The fields look beautiful. I almost forgot how beautiful they are."
Rashdan dropped Louis's bag by the door and excused himself by placing the small box on the table as Albert poured some water into a cup, which Louis gratefully picked up in front of his uncle's broad smile.
You have so much to see. Ilgan has become more beautiful than it has been in the years you've been away."
**
Louis shook his head with a half-smile and glanced at the small box before returning his gaze to his uncle, wondering, "Do you know where Palom Manor is?"
Albert seemed surprised by the question, though oddly pleased.
"Yes, it's down the hill by the strawberry trees. Why do you ask?"
"I have a package I need to deliver to a lady there."
"You mean Seven?"
Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise at his uncle's happy tone as he pronounced the blonde woman's name without a title, suggesting a relationship so close that it didn't require any formality.
"Yes, her brother asked me to deliver that box to her, and I couldn't refuse," he stated with a subtle annoyance that Albert managed to interpret, causing his lips, which had brightened at the mention of the lady to fade and he looked at him calmly. "I can tell Rashdan to deliver it if you don't want to do it yourself."
It was as if that suggestion lifted a weight off his chest. He was anxious to meet that woman again; the meeting weighed heavily on his heart, and his uncle's questioning made him feel relieved that he wouldn't have to see her again.
Not after what happened the last time.
He heard his uncle summon Rashdan, ordering him to take the box to Mrs. Sigin Palom's house as he went upstairs to his old room, which he had arranged to suit his stay for the coming days, where he would get rid of all his worries amidst the beautiful cherry fields.
He knew that this visit would change a lot, and he would return from it differently and better than now. How excited he was to see what the charming town of Ilgan would do to him
****
Crisis
" Louis "
His blood froze as he let go of his friend's arm, who in turn was alerted by his grandmother's cracked voice and her tall, grim-faced shadow looming over them from high up at the front of the stairs.
"Good night, Grandma." Louis smiled nervously, catching sight of Harold struggling to stand up next to him. His voice hoarse, his tongue heavy with alcohol, he spoke. "Hello, Mrs. Legrent."
The older woman gave him a look of disdain before turning to her grandson, her eyes sharply focused. "You're late."
Louis scratched his neck in aggravation. He knew he wouldn't be spared her rebuke, which would be quite harsh after that incident. Her calm, despite her angry glare, was the driving force of the moment as he cleared his throat, feeling Harold lean gently against him to calm down. "We got a little carried away with the party."
"Yes, yes. You should have seen all the beauties at the party, Mrs. Leverent." Harold laughed heavily, groggily, and curled his lips as he watched his grandmother's reaction, which was uneasy. He saw her hand grip her cane so tightly that its edges turned blue as she wished them goodnight and left without another word.
But he was sure that the situation would not pass peacefully without some kind of reproach from her. He was twenty-four years old, the only living man in the Leverent family, after all. And yet he was turning into a guilty child in the eyes of his grandmother, who never abandoned her strictness or treated him like a reckless boy
"Take it easy."
Harold lay comfortably on the well-made bed, hugging one of the pillows with a half-smile as Louis stripped him of his shoes. He felt him lean his shoulder against his side, taking a deep breath. He gently parted his eyelids and murmured, "Your grandmother looked angry."
"Do you think?"
Louis looked flat-faced for a tense minute before their laughter harmonized, and Harold buried his face in the pillow, sighing, letting the echo of their pent-up giggles dissipate in a sluggish smile. "Man, you need to get married."
"To be alone between two women? I wouldn't last much with them." Louis sneered low as he slid flat-backed next to his companion, who lifted his head onto his lap pillow, placing his blue eyes against his green ones and smiling. "You're the one who needs to get married. One woman should stop you."
"No, no, no, Harold Sigrid doesn't marry. I'm better off without a woman in my life." Harold said the same phrase that always crossed his tongue whenever the topic of marriage crossed their minds. For whatever reason and circumstance, that wasn't the point of their future plans.
Silence allied itself with the playfulness of the night birds outside and the effects of the party dominating their limbs, which slackened on the wide bed in the darkness of the perforated room. Louis watched the moonlit ceiling with an absent face, before listening to his friend's whispering voice.
"You really have to find a wife, Louis."
The sun rose on a bitter January Thursday afternoon in the heart of the overcast London sky, witnessing the movement of pedestrians between the illuminated streets beneath his still eyes. The calm calm descended upon him as he listened to the harpist whose tune echoed off the walls of the upscale café, sipping his hot tea with relish.
Louis glanced at his pocket watch for the second time in the quarter of an hour he waited for the arrival of his reckless friend, whom he had spotted ten minutes earlier accompanying a woman on the other side of the road, late for the tea time they had scheduled together that morning.
He was sipping the last drops of tea that had helped him relax when the café door opened and Harold entered with his bright smile, waving to him happily as he lifted his hat and removed his coat, taking his seat opposite Louis and catching his breath. "Sorry to be late. Something's come up."
"Sometimes I have a feeling I'll have to follow you everywhere lest your carelessness get you into trouble." Louie raised an eyebrow, putting the teacup aside while Harold shrugged and gently brushed his temple bangs. "It was a lovely young lady asking me where the post office was, and being the gentleman that I am, I had to take her there myself."
"Yes, and you, in doing good, can never say no."
Harold chuckled at his friend's sarcasm before answering the waiter's question about his request with a cup of warm tea with fresh mint leaves, and clasped his fingers on the counter with a half-smile. "So, how are you these days?"
With a long sigh, Louis's desperate answer was clear. "Nothing new. My grandmother still refuses to speak to me since the night of the party, not to mention Councilor Cornelius' warnings that I should find a way to pay off my father's debts before the deadline, which is approaching while I stand still."
Harold's lips curled in displeasure. Things were not good with his friend, and despite his jokes here and there, he was distressed by his inability to do anything to help him, let alone accompany him for long to think of a solution after his grandmother's order that Harold not enter their house again, which limited their meetings to cafes and restaurants.
"I'm leaving in two hours for the Ilgan Estate. Perhaps my Uncle Albert will be able to help me with that predicament." Louis lit his cigarette with a wooden face and blew the smoke at them. Harold leaned against the table, but no sooner had he uttered his first words than the waiter arrived with the teacup and sugar glass, swallowing his conversation for a moment, until he left
"You know how much I like and respect Albert for being different from the rest of your family, but we both know he can't help you, Louis. And I don't think you're going to the manor for that."
They both kept the conversation whisper-quiet. Harold gave his friend a serious, searching look from behind his mug, and Louis let out a sigh that betrayed his anguish.
"I need some peace, Harold. Everything that's going on is making me nervous. And I need some time to sort out my thoughts and figure out what to do with all this—away from Grandma, away from Zane Haroun, away from everything."
Harold pursed his lips in a momentary silence as the soft harp melody dominated the warm atmosphere of the café until his empty mug clinked gently on his plate. "When are you coming back from there?"
"In a week. Unless something new happens."
The man with the twisted beliefs nodded wordlessly, despite his eyes, which spoke of something lurking on the tip of his hesitant tongue. Harold lightly bit the inside of his cheek, watching the flicker of smoke that escaped his friend's cigarette before tucking the extinguished stub into the side of his teacup and sighing.
"Do you know what might solve this problem of yours?" he began softly, catching Louis's attention. He looked at him with a knitted brow and waited attentively. Harold's green cheeks glowed with excitement. "You must find a wife!"
"What does marriage have to do with me? And why do you keep bringing that subject up so much these days?" Louis sneered, frowning at Harold's impulsiveness. He folded his arms, eagerly explaining his idea.
"You don't understand, Louis. Think about it. You're from a large, distinguished family. You're handsome, you studied engineering, and you have a good reputation. Any woman would wait for a word from you. With a single gesture, you could make the most prestigious family in the kingdom fall in love with you. And if you married a wealthy woman, you could simply pay off your debts and get a beautiful wife at the same time!"
Louis stared at him for a long moment, as if unable to find an adequate answer to that impassioned suggestion, until he slowly shook his head and frowned. "I won't do that, Harold. I can't marry a woman just for her money. It's exploitative and inhuman. That's principle."
My friend, you are in a crisis, like the one the kingdom sometimes faces from time to time. In an age of crisis, there are no principles, only logical thinking. This is the only solution that will save you and the family name!
Louie objected with a successive denial, insisting on speaking despite Harold's persuasive urgings, exploiting his crisis and urging him to abandon his principles and submit to the futile language of political diplomacy that transforms marriage from a sacred love contract into a ludicrous deal.
"Let's assume I agree. Do you have any suggestions? Enlighten me." Louie rested his chin on his fist, following Harold's lead, who stiffened for a moment at his sudden question, before smiling sideways and whispering. "What do you think of Siggin Palom?"
Like someone who had woven the dialogue and anticipated the question and the flow of the conversation. Louis was stunned and unexpectedly looked at the other's response with a hint of humor that explained much of his rhetoric since they had met the suspicious blonde woman for the first and last time.
"That's funny." That was all he had said with a half-laugh. Harold must have been joking, as usual, when he suggested that he marry Sigin Pallum, the English Casanova. Not after he had warned him not to rub shoulders with her and to avoid her; this was all one of his heavy jokes.
Ever since that party that had brought him misfortune, he had avoided encountering her at any time, which sometimes made him watch her door from his study window, careful not to meet her. How delighted he had been when he saw her this morning getting into a carriage with a large suitcase of clothes while her brother was seeing her off, so that Louis could conclude that she was going somewhere.
She was never a lady he should have rubbed shoulders with
Think about it. She's a beautiful, independent, wealthy, and famous bird, a fine example of the perfect wife. You didn't notice her glances at you at the party, Louis! You totally stole her attention!
"I'm not having this discussion," he offered briefly.
He couldn't believe he was having that conversation now. After everything that had happened. After everything he had seen, that woman aroused in him every feeling of contempt and revulsion with her reckless, vicious actions. She was a woman without an ounce of self-respect.
"Why?"
"You didn't see what I saw, Harold."
He was never going to reveal what he had seen that night as she had allowed a man to embrace her so shamelessly before his eyes. She was a pervert, and he didn't even want to replay her actions or recall what he had seen in his mind
"Nor is she my type." He blurted out the sentence quickly, placing the money on the table with a frown and getting up as Harold picked up his hat and coat later and headed outside, where their spirits were refreshed by a gust of cool, modern air.
"And since when do you have a type?" Harold sneered in a low, stubborn tone, trailing off down the sidewalk and giving him a side-eye. "Any man has a type."
Raising an eyebrow in disapproval at his answer, Harold breathed patiently. "I was in France for five years on my own, Harold. Of course, I had a few flings and met a few women. And you can be sure, the blondes among them weren't the type to approach. Now shut that subject up and put it out of your mind."
Harold pursed his lips stubbornly, tilting his head forward to relax his features and smiling a winking smile at Louis, who followed his gaze without understanding, only to be met a few steps away by Simon Palom, wearing a velvet coat and a round hat, holding what looked like a painting covered in light paper.
"Talking about the Paloms." Harold began with an intent look, which made Louis glare at him warningly, showing no desire to come into contact with anyone from that family. However, what was on his friend's mind was more serious, as he slipped out of his grasp and quickly stopped the blond with a pat on the shoulder.
Louis cursed under his breath with a threatening growl as he slowed down to catch up with his annoying companion, who welcomed Simon with such joy and warmth that the former struggled to present with a forced smile, while stealing the attention of the audience. "Mr. Palom, welcome."
"Louie! So glad to see you!"
When Simon smiled brightly and warmly enveloped his outstretched hand, he felt bad. The younger Sigin Palom brother was so friendly and kind that it made Louie feel ashamed of himself for picking on his sister's mistakes, even though the blond might never know what that woman does in the dark.
"So, where are you going?" Harold asked, glancing curiously at the wrapped painting. Simon maintained his broad smile, declaring, "I have an appointment with Mr. Victor, owner of the Solgaran Gallery. Sigin has finished one of her paintings, and Mr. Victor is helping me frame it properly so it doesn't tear."
"Wow, I didn't know she could paint." Harold nudged Louis's side subtly, beckoning him to join the conversation, but the latter was sullen and just wanted to leave.
He hated standing with someone he wasn't comfortable with.
Simon shook his head proudly and hugged the painting tightly to his chest. "Yes. It's a hobby she does in her spare time to amuse herself. Her husband was a painter, and she learned from him."
"Which one?" Louis blurted out, drowning out every footstep passing by and catching the atmosphere of the three men in a tense atmosphere after his question, which sounded both bold and slightly embarrassed, even though Simon's expression didn't waver an inch. "The third. Lord Edward Murray. He was a famous painter."
Harold gripped Louis's forearm tightly, as if to warn him against his tongue, which sometimes let loose with inappropriate talk. He smiled awkwardly, trying to dispel the spark his friend had just created. "And how is Mrs. Seqin these days?"
"She's fine! Even if she has a slight cold, she can't stand winter at all. She left this morning for Ilgan to enjoy the quiet environment and pleasant weather in the country to help her recover."
Louis's throat went dry with bitterness as he heard the blond's sentence repeat itself in his mind over and over again, as if relishing the prospect of ruining his early pleasure at seeing her leave in the morning, thinking he wouldn't see her for some time until he returned from the country estate
But fate was driven by weak feet.
Harold's greenery shone with amazement as Louis read the idea he had been pressing on him a moment ago, and he breathed heavily.
Really? Louis's uncle owns an estate and a cherry farm there, and Louis is even going there today. What a wonderful coincidence!
It wasn't a wonderful coincidence at all. Not as Louis thought it would be.
"Really? That's nice, maybe they'll meet one day." Louis smiled faintly at the blond before the latter bid them farewell, hurrying to catch his appointment, leaving Harold to glare at him, causing Louis to roll his eyes in annoyance.
"Nice offer. But forget it, Harold. I'm never going to meet that woman there."
Dusk was dominating the sky, a pale pink, painted by winter's stubborn brush, adding a touch of beauty as it descended over the genteel English neighborhood. The sound of sunset birds merged with the bell of the Legrent house, which jingled, causing Louis to lift his head from his bag.
He left his folded clothes aside and made his way downstairs to where his grandmother sat by the living room fireplace, reading, and Oliver, the houseboy, was talking to someone on the doorstep.
"Who's it, Oliver?"
"It's Mr. Simon Palom, sir."
Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise, noticing his grandmother's sudden movement as she jumped up from her seat. He motioned for the servant to go while he rounded the door to face the blond with his gently parted mouth. "Hello, Louis!"
"It's Mr. Simon Palom, sir."
Louie raised his eyebrows in surprise, noticing his grandmother's sudden movement as she jumped up from her seat. He motioned for the servant to go while he rounded the door to face the blond with his gently parted smile. "Hello, Louie!"
"Hello, Mr. Palom."
He didn't hide the questioning look in his eyes, and the second held up a small box in front of him, giving him the look of a shy student.
"Harold said you were on foot for Ilgan today, and I was wondering if you could deliver this to Seqin. I would mail it, but that would take time, so I thought I'd ask you for that favor. That is, if you don't mind, of course!"
How could he refuse in front of that polite face? Strangely, that twenty-one-year-old boy was so friendly that he marveled at his sister's malice and the foul deeds she committed. It was as if they had never borne fruit from the same branch
"Yes, yes. Of course."
Simon smiled brightly as Louie picked up the box, which was lighter than a feather, showing immense gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Louie. I hope this isn't too much of a burden for you. I'll leave you now so as not to bore you. Thanks again!"
Simon walked away with every word of his last sentence, leaving Louie on his doorstep with a light box that weighed heavily on the scales of his fading feelings, which showed no desire for a new meeting.
Perhaps he was exaggerating his avoidance of a woman who lived on the other side and whose brother had forced him into a pleasant relationship, but with whom he was uncomfortable, for he had not grown up with a woman like her. She was different in some mysterious way
Desire for a new encounter.
Perhaps he was exaggerating his avoidance of a woman who lived on the other side and whose brother had forced him into a gentle relationship, but with whom he was uncomfortable, for he had not grown up around a woman like her. She was different in a mysterious way.
"Louie." He blinked at his grandmother's sharp call, turning so she could see the box and clench her jaws briefly. "What did that profane young man give you?"
What a way for his grandmother to be talking to him again after the slap of a Palom party. Louie licked his lips with a sigh and gripped the box with tight hands. "Package. He wants me to deliver it to someone in Elvan."
Doubt was in her eyes. She approached him with her cane, which chimed as sternly as her expression, until she glanced at the paper taped to the front of the box, where it said, "Elevan Country Town - Palom Estate." 66
The older woman didn't say a word as she raised her head to him, maintaining the same steely gaze that made him tense at her sudden anger. "Burn that desecrated thing, Louie. Anything from that house is contaminated."
"What? No! That's a trust, Grandma." He countered sarcastically, surprised by her strange request, which wasn't surprising given her intense and bizarre hatred for Sigin Palom and her brother. They may have been shady, but not to the horrid degree of loathing his grandmother expressed at length whenever they were mentioned.
She hated them with a passion.
The woman knitted her eyebrows firmly and blurted out a repulsive outburst. "What if it's something illegal and that rotten boy is using you as his messenger? Whatever's in that box will only bring misfortune!"
The lady frowned firmly and said with a repulsive impulse, "What if it's something illegal and that corrupt boy is using you as his messenger? Whatever is inside that box will only bring disaster!"
His lips straightened in the face of her stubborn insistence. He knew how bigoted his grandmother was and how strict she was in her decisions, and perhaps he was convinced of her suspicions and reserved judgments about the two brothers inside him... But Simon Palom had turned to him and asked him with such kindness that he was embarrassed, and he would never have appeared to be a lowly man in front of him.
He explained his final position to his grandmother with a calmness that contrasted with the rage that flared in her eyes as she glanced at the box one last time before returning to her seat with a face clouded with indignation and anger that possessed her
Louis dropped the small box next to his bag, devoting the rest of his attention to the things he hadn't yet been deprived of, which were only a quarter of an hour away from leaving for the train station. His grandmother's words were running through his mind, stinging his doubts that hadn't left their roots, even though their resonant scent had emanated inside him, so he looked at the box with an eager look.
He knew that opening it would be extremely rude of him, but one look to ensure the contents weren't bad wouldn't hurt. Right? He pursed his lips and knitted his eyebrows decisively as he opened the box with stiff fingers, his features widening in surprise.
A blue silk scarf.
Its texture was extremely soft for his fingers, which gripped the headscarf folded inside the box, and the sweet scent of jasmine penetrated his nose, which he inhaled pleasantly, feeling his limbs relax at the softness of its texture and the sweetness of its scent
It was nothing but a charming scarf that the younger brother wanted to send to the distant blonde lady. It wasn't anything serious. He put the scarf back in its place and smiled mockingly at himself and his intentions, which were tainted by flimsy suspicions.
Perhaps he had only been too quick to judge.
The threads of the cold night were intertwined with clouds that roamed the English sky, liberating its snowflakes before the eyes that contemplated the creative painting in which the snowy season shared with enchanting nature, painting a picturesque rural scene that the heart yearns for with love.
The carriage moved freely against the rebellious winds between the orchards and fields that flourished with fruit trees and roses that exhaled a soft nectar that seized the senses, making them fall prey to an unquenchable love. All of those English rural appearances held peace in Louis's chest, as he watched them calmly through his carriage window
The moon, with its eroded edges, cast its pure light on the town of Ilgan, famous for its fresh fruit and flowering trees, while a fresh, clear breeze stung his body as he got out of the carriage in front of his uncle Albert Wilson's house, which was situated among cherry fields that had grown pink roses whose fragrance filled the air.
That place had always been his soother and the source of his comfort. He spent nearly two years of his childhood on that estate, immersed in his uncle's unique world, filled with various books, soft melodies, and a love of fruit that transcended the stages of obsession.
Although his uncle was from a distinguished family, he was completely different from them. He did not care about wealth or prestigious position, but rather focused on his hobby and created for himself an earthly bliss that would make him independent of the city's pleasures and deceptive appearances. For this reason, he was closest to Louis's heart
"Welcome, Mr. Legrent!"
Louie smiled at the farm's gardener and his uncle Rashdan's assistant, who greeted him with a cheerful face and a welcoming smile. "Hello, Rashdan. How are you?"
"I'm fine, sir. Mr. Wilson is eagerly awaiting you!"
Louie handed him his bag and the small box as they side by side toward the door of the dazzlingly lit house, which made him feel warm and comfortable with its beautiful appearance. It was as if he had been lost for years and his soul had been restored upon arriving in that magical paradise.
"Louie!" Albert Wilson's face lit up as he greeted his only and favorite nephew at the doorstep with a warm hug, which made Louie smile. How he truly felt he had come home with that warm embrace. "How lovely to have you here again."
"Yes. I guess city life just isn't for me anymore." Louis sneered, his small smile fading as his uncle pulled away, wrapping his shoulder tightly around him as he led him into the house, which was lit with fragrant candles that perfumed the place with the scent of lavender, relaxing his limbs as they rested on a bench by the fireplace.
"The fields look beautiful. I almost forgot how beautiful they are."
Rashdan dropped Louis's bag by the door and excused himself by placing the small box on the table as Albert poured some water into a cup, which Louis gratefully picked up in front of his uncle's broad smile.
You have so much to see. Ilgan has become more beautiful than it has been in the years you've been away."
**
Louis shook his head with a half-smile and glanced at the small box before returning his gaze to his uncle, wondering, "Do you know where Palom Manor is?"
Albert seemed surprised by the question, though oddly pleased.
"Yes, it's down the hill by the strawberry trees. Why do you ask?"
"I have a package I need to deliver to a lady there."
"You mean Seven?"
Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise at his uncle's happy tone as he pronounced the blonde woman's name without a title, suggesting a relationship so close that it didn't require any formality.
"Yes, her brother asked me to deliver that box to her, and I couldn't refuse," he stated with a subtle annoyance that Albert managed to interpret, causing his lips, which had brightened at the mention of the lady to fade and he looked at him calmly. "I can tell Rashdan to deliver it if you don't want to do it yourself."
It was as if that suggestion lifted a weight off his chest. He was anxious to meet that woman again; the meeting weighed heavily on his heart, and his uncle's questioning made him feel relieved that he wouldn't have to see her again.
Not after what happened the last time.
He heard his uncle summon Rashdan, ordering him to take the box to Mrs. Sigin Palom's house as he went upstairs to his old room, which he had arranged to suit his stay for the coming days, where he would get rid of all his worries amidst the beautiful cherry fields.
He knew that this visit would change a lot, and he would return from it differently and better than now. How excited he was to see what the charming town of Ilgan would do to him
****