Early the next morning, Jennifer and Luther set off from the manor. Susan was unable to get up, and the two young ladies hugged Jennifer and kissed her repeatedly, but they couldn't persuade her to stay.
"Write to us."
"I will."
Amid the clatter of horse hooves, the eldest daughter of the Hild family rode off with her new husband.
Though everyone was still immersed in the sadness of the farewell, life continued. Now, the affairs of the manor were managed by Vivienne, who handled them meticulously. Baron Hild and Vincent seemed to have reached some agreement about the mineral deposits, resulting in Vincent frequently visiting. Concerned for Susan and the young ladies, Mike also often visited the manor.
They inevitably ran into each other.
Mike wanted to see him but also dreaded it. When they met, it was awkward and he was at a loss; when they didn't, he couldn't help but miss him. It was a painful torment, yet so sweet. One dose of pain made him crave the next.
He quickly became thinner.
The old butler was very worried about this, not knowing the real reason, he assumed Mike was worried about Susan. Mary's belly grew larger, and her condition fluctuated. On good days, she could walk in the garden; on bad days, even speaking while lying in bed was exhausting. Many feared she wouldn't carry the child to term, but she persevered, enduringly and resolutely.
Vivienne's wedding was arranged for the winter, though the cold weather was not ideal for a wedding. Considering Susan's health, it was decided to hold the wedding after she gave birth.
The weather grew colder day by day, and even the most fashionable young ladies donned thick clothes, with collars and cuffs trimmed with heavy fur, looking demure and noble. Jennifer settled in Paris (she should now be referred to as Mrs. MacLeod), and she kept her promise, writing frequently. These letters were a most comforting solace in the cold.
"My dear Vivienne,
"Anna, Mother, Father, and Uncle Mike,
"I am well in Paris. How are you all?"
At night, everyone mentioned in the letter gathered around the fireplace. Vivienne sat in a chair, her back straight but her head slightly bowed, reading the letter from afar in a gentle, calm voice.
"We first settled in the suburbs of Paris, and later Luther found a house in the city." Vivienne's voice was calm and gentle, as if Jennifer were sitting in the small parlor, recounting her recent experiences. "Mr. MacLeod's health is indeed poor; a doctor comes to the house every day. He deeply regrets not being able to attend our wedding in person and has repeatedly asked me to convey his greetings to you."
The room was very quiet, the fire in the hearth burned brightly, and the wood occasionally made soft crackling sounds. It was so cold outside, yet so warm inside. Mike, staring outside, felt as if there were two different worlds.
Baron Hild sat to Mike's right. When he saw Mike turn his way, he gave him a kind smile. Even after winter had set in, Baron Hild frequently went out, often waking up in different women's beds. But at that moment, he sat there, listening to one daughter read a letter from another, looking at Mike as if he were his nephew.
He could be considered a good father.
Mike couldn't agree with Baron Hild's libertine ways, but this was indeed a common state among most gentlemen and aristocrats. They even took pride in it, lingering at brothels together. The ladies, in turn, accepted it without much fuss, maintaining a tacit consent.
Moreover, the baron always fulfilled his duties as a husband and father.
In Mike's eyes, Baron Hild and Susan had always had a good relationship, never having heard of them quarreling. The contrast was difficult for him to accept.
"I miss you all, very much. Vivienne, kiss Mother for me, kiss Anna, Father, and Uncle Mike."
As Susan's due date approached, the entire manor was enveloped in a tense atmosphere, even the lively Anna became much quieter. The servants busied themselves silently, swiftly moving through the corridors and stairs. Everyone wore solemn expressions, not daring to speak loudly, as if they were awaiting not the arrival of a new life, but something unmentionable.
A tragedy.
Vivienne maintained a calm exterior, but her heart was always uneasy. During the day, she dealt with the manor's affairs; at night, she knelt by her bed, secretly praying for her mother to have a safe delivery. After their engagement, Andrew visited the manor more frequently, bringing rare winter flowers and fruits for her.
"I will be by your side."
Andrew had brown curly hair that required careful grooming; otherwise, it would look messy, devoid of gentlemanly elegance. Yet he rode over in the cold weather, his hair blown into disarray, and his face reddened by the cold.
Vivienne accepted the fruit from his hands, feeling the coldness through her gloves. Andrew looked at her, his eyes filled with apprehension, excitement, and much anticipation.
Vivienne's heart was gently stirred. This man wasn't truly what she wanted, but he was the best she could choose among the available options. Young, handsome, with a certain status and wealth—these qualities, repeatedly emphasized by the baroness, were more important than love itself.
He was an excellent marriage prospect.
Vivienne keenly sensed the looming instability in her home. The former security felt like a vase placed on a cliff, ready to plunge into the abyss at any moment. As a lady, her family was her only support and security. If this family were to fall apart, she needed to enter the next one quickly.
So she hinted to Andrew and accepted his proposal.
Even though she didn't love him.
Vivienne didn't love Andrew, just as Jennifer didn't love Hughes. The sisters had spent over a decade together in carefree times, and despite resisting traditional teachings and having vastly different natures, they both ultimately chose the same path as their mother.
However, Vivienne's situation was slightly different.
Andrew loved her.
This love, previously insignificant like a star in a vast sky, now shone brightly like a large gem on black velvet.
"Thank you."
Vivienne said softly.
Meanwhile, Mike also frequently traveled between Hope Town and the Hild manor. The weather was so cold that even inside the carriage it was unbearable. When he stepped out of the carriage and touched the ground, he felt dizzy, his legs giving way.
He was caught.
The cloak smelled of leaves and raindrops, and the embrace was firm, not particularly comfortable to lean against. Supported by it, Mike looked at Vincent's expressionless face, feeling a dull ache in his heart.
Vincent watched him, his gaze unreadable. Mike looked at his high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, the blue eyes wholly absorbed by someone, their false affection seeming so sincere.
He was a bit dazed, yet enchanted by it, slowly reaching out to touch Vincent's cheekbone.
"Ah… sir…"
The attendant who followed let out a restrained exclamation. Mike, as if waking from a dream, widened his eyes and quickly tried to withdraw his hand, but Vincent held it firmly.
"I…"
Mike tried to say something but found his throat sore, barely able to make a sound. Vincent frowned, then lifted him into his arms.
"Call a doctor."