The Box Bearing the Crest

Has it been a year already? My first time back here since the wedding.

Dismounting from the carriage, I let my gaze wander lazily over the full sweep of Agnus Orphanage. The moment I spotted the narrow side path slipping away beside the building, however, I caught my lip between my teeth without meaning to.

The place where I first laid eyes on him. My meeting with Camille had begun here, too. I remembered it vividly — the season when white magnolia petals tumbled across the ground, and I'd watched him with something like wonder, thinking, what sort of woman could a man like that ever marry?

Why were you there, that day?

Brushing the fleeting thought aside, I lifted my head — and found stares raining down on me from every direction. Then my eyes met my father's, and he stood frozen in sheer disbelief, his mouth working soundlessly.

"Y-you... you...!"

This was my first appearance in society since the funeral. He had written proposing we ride to the event together; I'd brushed the letter off with a polite excuse and replied that I would come separately. A deliberate gambit, all part of staging the most dramatic entrance possible.

Remarriage? Please. Let the neighbor's dog have that honor.

No one would look at a woman dressed head to toe in mourning black and think of remarriage. If anything, they'd toss pity at her — nothing more.

Without further ado, I made my way toward where my father stood.

"Hello. It has been a long time."

"Oh my..."

"I trust everyone has been well?"

The fact that exclamations spilled out before any greetings told me they hadn't expected me to come at all. I ignored my father, who was trembling as though he might collapse on the spot, and finished exchanging pleasantries with the gathered ladies.

"Am I terribly late? I do hope I haven't drawn attention to myself for no reason."

"Not at all, not in the least. Though truthfully, we assumed we wouldn't be seeing you today."

"Madam — forgive me if this is presumptuous... but did you arrive in the Ortega carriage?"

Unable to contain her curiosity, one of the ladies cut in, tossing the question out as casually as she could manage. I nodded, answering with practiced ease.

"Yes. Today I've come as the head of Ortega, you see."

"Ah... I see. But I'd heard the second son had returned to his duties as well."

"Does Lady Belladonna know of that matter, too? She's so strict about these things — I do worry for no reason."

How lowly must they think of me, that they could ask such questions without a shred of hesitation? But I had never expected anything of them in the first place, so it didn't sting.

"Of course she does. Sir Claude is in seclusion at the moment — he can't attend to outside affairs — so for the time being, the burden falls on me to keep things running."

"Seclusion?"

"Madam, she must mean... the incident at the exhibition."

"Ah."

Leaving the ladies to murmur among themselves, I turned my gaze toward my father. He stood there in silence, and I could see he'd sensed it — how different the air around me was now.

You see it, don't you?

I flashed him a smile, making sure he noticed. How could I not know? The position of a widow — worse, a widow who had lost her husband after barely a year of marriage and borne no heir to carry on his name — was a precarious one indeed.

And yet, in name at least, I remained squarely a member of House Ortega. Even cast outside the line of succession, I was not someone to be treated carelessly. Protecting this humble little position of mine is, for now, the best move I can make. Father.

There was no need to spell it out; a man as shrewd as my father would have grasped my meaning on his own. Which meant it was time to start looking for my exit.

"At the funeral, you all rushed to my side despite how busy you were, and I cannot thank you enough. Everything was such a blur that I've only now managed to offer my belated thanks."

Having seized the gathered ladies' attention in one swift stroke, I arranged my features into an expression of carefully veiled melancholy.

"Everything happened because of my own failings... I wonder if even standing before you all like this is a breach of propriety."

"Oh, don't be absurd. How on earth could any of that be your fault?"

"She's right. And even without that, my heart has been heavy. Left all alone at such a young age..."

The noblewomen who had drawn close to pat my shoulders soon began dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs, sobbing at intervals. Goodness. That is elite-level fakery. I still have a long way to go before I could keep a straight face like that.

Still, it was undeniably convenient. The mood, at least, was thoroughly set.

"Would it be all right if I simply attended quietly to my small duties today and went inside? I'm not yet... ready to face a crowd."

"Oh, of course you may."

"Yes, rest indoors for a while before you leave. Leave the tiresome work to us."

"Your kindness means more than I can say."

I didn't need to feel guilty about deceiving them. After all, surely they, too, deserved the time to chew me up and spit me out at their leisure.

Well then. Carry on chatting. I'll be going.

"Aub, you—"

Having finished my farewell with elegant grace, my hand still lingering on the hem of my dress until the very last moment, I turned away with something close to relief — pointedly ignoring my father's outstretched hand.

For all the holiness of its name, Agnus Orphanage flaunted a splendor that would not have shamed a minor noble's estate. And the moment I stepped into the center of the hall, things I would never have noticed in ordinary times began to catch my eye.

There's a sunflower painting here, too?

Why on earth in a place like this? Ah — no, come to think of it, that was only natural. Where else in the world would money be more desperately needed than an orphanage?

Just then, from the far end of the corridor, I caught the sound of low voices — and the dull thud of something heavy being set down.

...Donors who came separately?

That assumption held fast only until I noticed the brooch glinting on the chest of the man standing opposite the orphanage director.

"That's..."

...That was the crest of House Pistachio, wasn't it?

I was studying the large wooden crates with idle curiosity when the conversation between the director and the men drifted to my ears.

"This delivery..."

"After what happened last time... be especially..."

What are they talking about?

Slipping my body behind one of the massive pillars was something I did without thinking. Then I felt the faint tug of someone pulling at my dress, and turned my head.

What followed was a jolt of pure shock. Some child was standing there, staring straight up at me!

"Miss."

"G-goodness, you startled me!"

Flustered, I asked the reflexive question. "Who are you?"

I swept my eyes over the boy's appearance. He wore clothes embroidered with a small lamb — the symbol of Agnus Orphanage. But for all his scrawny frame, the grey-haired child met my gaze with an unflinching look in his freckled face.

"Miss, are you on the same side as those men over there?"

"Me?"

His gaze was fixed on the spot where the Pistachio Merchant Group's workers stood.

"Mm... I'd say no."

Strictly speaking, as a noble, one might have counted me as being on their side — but I had no desire to be lumped in with them.

"Then please help me find my sister. My name's Johen, and my sister's name is Ann-Marie."

It was the kind of request that came out of nowhere, the way only a small child's could. But I didn't brush his hand away. Instead, I lowered myself to his eye level, kneeling down into a crouch.

"All right, Johen."

"Thank you."

"So — where did your sister go?"

I didn't feel interrupted in the least. After all, I had my own pretext for lingering here, under the banner of charity work. Is he playing hide-and-seek, perhaps?

But the scale of this hide-and-seek was larger than I'd imagined.

"I haven't seen my sister in days."

"Days...?"

When he nodded, the color had drained noticeably from Johen's face.

"And the director just tells me to stop fussing about it and yells at me not to go around blabbing my mouth..."

Something in that was deeply wrong. The smile faded from my face by degrees as the instinct took hold.

I laid a light hand on Johen's shoulder, held his gaze, and spoke slowly. "Johen. Where was the last place you saw Ann-Marie?"

The tip of a small, thin finger pointed to a single spot without a moment's hesitation. I traced its trajectory lazily — and then felt my thoughts grind to a sudden, total halt.

"Inside that box."

"...What?"

It was a wooden crate, stamped vividly with the crest of House Pistachio.