Deep Water
The boathouse, with windows thrown open on every side, commanded a sweeping view of river and forest at a single glance. The breeze passed freely through it, so that even in summer the place rarely grew too warm.
Even so, today was sweltering. To feel a chill in such weather was absurd, yet a shiver ran down Leila’s spine and she hunched her shoulders. She resolved to eat quickly and leave, but the food before her remained untouched.
She could not imagine swallowing a single bite. She had already eaten a full lunch and snacks besides; the heat she had endured while running errands had left her with no appetite at all. Matthias sat with his head tilted, absorbed once more in his own work, yet even so Leila found it hard to draw a proper breath.
Was this some punishment for her bungled errand and the flower arranging?
Forcing down a mouthful of sandwich, Leila turned the thought over. If that were the case, the Duke of Herhardt had already achieved his aim. Right now she truly felt as though she were suffering a particularly spiteful penalty.
To conquer the urge to spit the food out, she hastily drank her lemonade. She wiped the droplets from her fingers on her apron and picked up another piece of sandwich. To hide what must have been a miserable expression, she pulled the brim of her hat a little lower. It was then that the tip of a long finger suddenly brushed the point of her chin.
“If you are a lady, Leila.”
The hand flicked open the knot of the ribbon tied beneath her chin.
“One takes a hat like this off indoors.”
Before Leila could form a reply, Matthias lifted the straw hat from her head.
Startled, she shot to her feet by reflex. The sandwich tumbled and rolled across the floor. Matthias’s eyes narrowed, but Leila, wholly fixed on the hat, never noticed.
“G-give it back.”
Her voice trembled now not with fear but with anger.
“Please give it back at once, Your Grace. I’ll leave this instant. I want to go home. Give it back.”
Matthias only tightened his grip on the stolen hat, as if to say he had no such intention. Such a reaction merely for having a hat removed—as though she had been stripped bare. The flush that climbed all the way to Leila’s nape amused him considerably. Her skin, of delicate constitution, responded easily to the slightest stimulus.
“Eat.”
He pointed to the two remaining halves of sandwich.
“Eat, take your hat, and then go. Simple enough.”
“No. I refuse.”
Leila shook her head and stepped closer.
“I do not wish to eat. I cannot. I refuse.”
Her frightened eyes trembled; she looked as if she herself did not know what she was saying.
Matthias rose from his chair, still gripping the hat more firmly. His shadow fell across her.
“…Refuse?”
“It was all my fault, so please just give it back. Please?”
Leila stretched up on her toes, reaching. Her face looked ready to dissolve into tears. Matthias watched that face in silence and slowly raised the hat high above his head. Her gaze followed the motion.
The instant those eyes held him completely, he tossed the hat lightly out the open window. Carried on the breeze, it drifted gently out over the river. Leila glared at him with cold fury and then bolted from the sitting room in a wild rush.
Matthias moved to the window that overlooked the dock and the water. Moments later Leila appeared on the landing, stamping her feet at the sight of the floating hat; then she abruptly stripped off her apron and glasses and set them down.
Is she actually going to jump in after a wretched little hat like that?
Standing before the window, Matthias watched her with keen interest. For all her bold action, she was trembling— as though the water itself terrified her.
And yet.
Just as he curled one corner of his mouth in a scornful smile, Leila stepped into the river. She hesitated only a moment before beginning to wade toward the floating hat. Water rose from her knees to her waist; before long it reached her chest, yet Leila Lewellin did not stop.
Matthias watched the absurd spectacle with his arms loosely crossed.
She stretched her hand as far as she could, but the current nudged the hat a little farther away. One might have expected her to give up; instead she took another stubborn step, then another, toward it.
By now the water must be deeper than she is tall.
As Matthias slowly tilted his head, her flailing fingers finally closed on the end of the hat’s ribbon. In the same instant Leila Lewellin vanished beneath the surface.
“As expected.”
He muttered the words low and frowned. She had gone under at precisely the spot he had predicted. Startled by the sudden depth, she thrashed desperately—and the more she struggled, the farther the current carried her into deeper water. Even so she clutched the hat as though it were her very lifeline.
Uncrossing his arms at last, Matthias strode toward the dock with long steps. One further prediction proved correct: Leila Lewellin had jumped into the river without the least fear, even though she could not swim.
He halted at the end of the landing and looked down at her floundering form. As she rose and sank again and again, her screams grew steadily thinner.
Eat, take the hat, and leave.
Such a commotion over so simple a thing.
A sigh slipped through twisted lips; then Matthias dived into the river.
The wooden planks of the dock, heated by the sun, burned against her cheek. Only after that vivid sensation registered did Leila realize she had been brought safely out of the water. Relief flooded her—followed at once by pain and terror.
She coughed violently and shook. Even then she would not loosen her grip on the rescued hat.
The sight was so ridiculous that Matthias gave a short laugh. Labored breathing and low laughter tangled together. It was only when the water streaming from her soaked body had stained the boards dark that Leila Lewellin finally saw him.
“How… could you do such a thing… what on earth…”
Though she gasped as if her breath might fail her, she forced each word out. The eyes she fixed on him burned. Filled with tears, they seemed to glitter all the more fiercely.
Brushing the wet hair from his forehead, Matthias looked down at her with open amusement. As his breathing steadied, the laughter grew louder.
Leila planted her trembling hands on the hot wood and pushed herself up. Water poured like rain from her long, soaked hair. Her eyelids were flushed scarlet, yet she did not cry. Instead she glared at Matthias with wide eyes—at that wicked man who was actually laughing.
Whatever she had meant to say, she abandoned it and staggered to her feet. Matthias sat at his ease on the boards as though sunbathing, gazing up at her. The thin, wet cloth clung to every line of her body with merciless clarity.
When his glance reached the region of her shaking shoulders, Leila suddenly began to shake the hat hard, flinging water in every direction.
Matthias received the cold spray with an unmoved face. Though she flinched, she did not stop her private revenge. She jammed the still-dripping hat onto her head and then shook out her skirts. The look she shot him sparkled with open defiance.
“Is it amusing?”
Matthias spoke after slowly wiping his face as if washing it.
“I was just beginning to find it less so.”
The laughter vanished in an instant; the face that remained was as cold as the river even in midsummer. Instinctive fear made her flinch, yet Leila did not look away.
“How… to me… what on earth… why are you doing this?”
“Leila, one begins with a greeting.”
He rolled the sleeves of his wet shirt up with deliberate care.
“Thanks to the savior of one’s life.”
He remained perfectly composed, as if teasing the girl who stared at him in outrage.
“None of this would have happened, I believe, if Your Grace had not thrown my hat into the river.”
“No.”
Matthias’s brow slowly drew together.
“Would it not rather have been avoided if you had quietly eaten the sandwich and risen?”
Leila could only blink, breath caught in her throat. The duke’s tone was far too level for a joke.
“Or if you had not done something so pathetic as leaping into water when you cannot even swim.”
He flicked a droplet from his fingertips and tilted his head.
“…Thank you for saving me, Your Grace.”
Leila bowed, forcing her anger down. Uncle Bill, Uncle Bill, Uncle Bill—she repeated the charm under her breath like a rapid prayer.
“Again.”
The duke examined her as if grading a performance and commanded in a low voice.
“Like a lady. Again.”
Still he did not smile.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I am not a lady like the young misses of noble houses.”
Even her devoted love for Uncle Bill could not hold the words back any longer. Matthias regarded her with eyes that showed not the slightest ripple of feeling.
“Even so, you will be a lady before me, Leila.”
He flicked another bead of water from his fingertip so that it landed at her feet.
“Whatever you may be, I am a gentleman.”
At last the duke smiled—holding her in those still eyes, the curve touching only the corners of his mouth.
Leila’s hands had gone white where they clenched her soaked skirts. Then she offered the duke the elegant, precise curtsey of the lady he demanded. Water droplets ran from the brim of the straw hat and fell like rain onto the wooden planks of the dock.
“Thank you most sincerely for saving my life, Your Grace.”
Though her body shook hard enough for her teeth to chatter, she pronounced every syllable with exact care and bowed her head. Matthias gave a slight tilt of his chin, awarding the ladylike greeting a passing mark.
Don’t cry, Leila Lewellin.
She clenched her fists and forced strength into her eyes.
Don’t cry because of a man like that. Please.
Steadying herself, she straightened the back she had bent toward the duke.
“Then I shall take my leave. Good day, Your Grace.”
Leaving the silent Matthias behind, she turned with resolute steps. A long trail of water droplets from her skirts marked her path across the boards.
Her legs nearly gave way more than once, yet she fought desperately for balance. And she gritted her teeth and vowed: today she would not fall. She would no longer serve as that man’s plaything. Never.
The moment she escaped his gaze she began to run. By now her eyelids burned so red that even the hat’s shade could not hide them. Hating that, she ran faster still.
Once, by chance, she had seen him walking a forest path with Claudine. The elegant gentleman escorting a lovely girl had looked like a scene from a fairy tale or a court romance.
At the end of the path a breeze had snatched Claudine’s hat away. Matthias had approached the roadside without hurry, picked it up, and returned it to her. The unhurried grace of the gesture had been beautiful. Around the time she remembered that he always moved that way, the two of them had passed out of her sight.
With a gesture just as beautiful as that day, he had insulted her. Nausea as sharp as that realization stopped her in her tracks.
Deathly pale, Leila staggered into the grass and forced up everything she had eaten. Tears stung her eyes, but she did not cry.
When the retching ceased she made her way to the shallow stream that ran through the woods and rinsed her mouth. After resting a while in the shade of a tree she felt somewhat better.
Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she returned to the path that led to the cabin. No strength remained for running; she trudged along, dragging her feet. Dust rose and dirtied her damp stockings and skirts, but her appearance was already thoroughly ruined, so it hardly mattered.
When the cabin came into view she gathered her last scraps of strength and kicked a hazelnut that lay by the roadside. Watching the innocent nut roll away, she squinted—and only then realized the fatal mistake she had made.
“My glasses…”
Feeling her face, Leila’s expression crumpled. The road she had come seemed endlessly far.