Chapter 89

Claudia Reichnek's first impression was, for better or worse, of someone thoroughly aristocratic.

Even to Edgar, who didn't know much about dresses, that deep-blue dress didn't look ordinary. Whenever Claudia moved, it rippled like deep water. The buttons were unmistakably pearl, and the lace along the hem was as delicate as could be.

Dressed like that, Claudia moved very quietly. Her footsteps were so light they seemed to carry no weight at all, and her hands moved with grace. After exchanging greetings with Benito, a small nod from her was all it took for the servants to start sorting out the luggage.

Edgar wasn't sure what he'd expected of her, but he wasn't surprised. Not in a bad way. It just felt natural.

Well, of course. House Reichnek had a long history. Even if it hadn't led to marriage in the end, this was a house whose young daughter had been engaged to the crown prince.

And this was the very person who, if Waldemar Alharn hadn't died so suddenly, would have been Queen of Alharn, not Duchess Lambert. If she'd turned out to be ordinary, that would have been the disappointment.

"Harold. Won't you introduce me to your nephews?"

At Claudia's throat hung a blue cameo necklace. By now it was an ornament Edgar recognized.

Claudia turned her attention to Edgar and Edwin. Edgar flinched and grabbed his uncle's leg, hiding behind him. Claudia let out a soft, delighted sound as if she found the sight utterly adorable.

Harold rested a hand on Edgar's shoulder. A light touch — no pressure to it. Seeing that Harold wasn't tense in the slightest, Edgar peeked around him at Claudia.

His uncle had said he'd been at the academy with Grisha Lambert. Judging by how casually Claudia addressed his uncle, the two of them had to have known each other a long time...

"Edgar and Edwin. This one, here, is Edgar—"

"I'm Edwin Bertholdt!"

Edwin thrust his hand up and marched straight over to Claudia.

"I'd heard you were twins, but you really do look alike."

"Even Uncle mixes us up sometimes."

"Oh my. Really? Then Uncle's the one at fault there."

Before Edgar could get a word in, Edwin was chattering away with Claudia. Anyone watching would never have guessed the two of them had only just met.

Watching from behind his uncle, Edgar tilted his head.

Edwin had always been more full of energy than he was. But had he ever been the sort of child to go up to a stranger this easily?

Was Edwin really... this outgoing?

"But you're Mr. Lambert's mom, right?"

"Mr. Lambert? Grisha? Is that what you call him?"

"Um... he is Mr. Lambert, isn't he?"

"But Adelheid calls Harold 'Uncle'!"

Edwin twisted his body as if he were shy.

Outgoing personality or not, Edgar knew perfectly well that Edwin wasn't the kind to get bashful like that. He gave Edwin an incredulous look.

"But I've only met him once. Oh, wait — no! Twice!"

"Twice?"

"At Dad's funeral, and, um, once when he came to see Uncle when we were staying at the woods place. That's... that's it, isn't it? Right, Edgar?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah..."

Startled at hearing his name suddenly, Edgar ducked back behind his uncle.

At the mention of the funeral, Claudia's voice — already soft as a cloud — grew warmer still.

"Adelheid only saw Harold a few times when she was very small, too. But she still just calls him Uncle. She probably doesn't even remember what Harold looks like now."

"Really?"

"Really. So next time you see Grisha, you can call him Uncle too."

"Hmm..."

Edwin still shook his head.

"No, I can't!"

"Oh my. Why not?"

"I want to ask Mr. Lambert first! That's the polite way, isn't it?"

"That's right. You know much better than I do."

Edgar watched Edwin uneasily. He had no idea what Edwin was thinking, talking to Claudia this way. Probably no thoughts at all. That was the only explanation for how carefree he sounded.

If this had been a conversation with their uncle, Edgar would have clapped a hand over Edwin's mouth as if kidding around, but the person opposite them was Claudia Reichnek, and he couldn't. If he stepped in awkwardly and Claudia's attention shifted onto him, that would be a problem too. Edgar couldn't handle Claudia the way Edwin was. It wasn't that he wanted to be like Edwin, exactly...

It was because Claudia was Adelheid's mother.

Claudia Reichnek had died before Adelheid did. Was it a mercy she hadn't lived to see her daughter's death? Or was it the other way around — had the girl's illness worsened because her parents died one after the other?

"Hmm..."

"What is it?"

Edwin folded his arms. Edgar could only see his back, but he was sure Edwin was frowning with his cheeks puffed out.

Fighting back a laugh, Claudia put on the most serious face she could manage and asked Edwin,

"Is something the matter?"

"I can ask Mr. Lambert next time I see him, but..."

"But?"

Edwin whipped his head around.

"Uncle!"

"What?"

"Um... uhh..."

Sure enough, Edwin's face was screwed up tight. His mouth opened and closed silently at his uncle, and then he glanced at Claudia.

"Yes?"

Meeting Claudia's smile, Edwin turned back to his uncle. Edgar frowned along with him. He couldn't tell what Edwin was up to.

Edwin ran over to their uncle. Harold, as always, dropped to one knee to meet him at eye level. He kept his hold on Edgar too.

"Uncle, Uncle!"

"Yes, Edwin. What is it?"

"Well..."

Edwin whispered into Harold's ear.

"What should I call her?"

Whispered or not, Edgar right next to him heard every word. Probably the other adults in the room had heard too. It was obvious enough, from the way Claudia hurriedly clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. The shoulders of the servants who had put down the luggage and were standing back were shaking too.

Edgar squeezed his eyes shut. Oblivious to what his twin brother was going through, Edwin gave their uncle's arm a blithe tug.

"Is it okay if I just call her Duchess? I mean... isn't that, isn't that rude or something? I should have listened when Dad said I had to learn this stuff!"

Even without seeing his uncle's face, Edgar could feel him smiling.

"Well... 'Duchess' would be the polite form, but she's someone Uncle has known a long time, so you don't have to be that strict."

"Then what?"

"Hmm..."

"Just call me Grandma."

Claudia cut in. Edwin looked mildly startled but broke into a shy grin.

"But..."

Edwin was still bashful.

Whatever it looked like to the adults, Edgar could see plainly that Edwin wasn't the least bit bashful. If anything, his eyes were brimming with mischief.

"Uncle..."

"What did Harold say to you?"

"What? No! I haven't said a word to them."

"Um, that the Adelheid girl — you said we could play with her."

"That's right. So Harold told you about Adelheid?"

"I feel like she wouldn't like it if I called you Grandma, though..."

"Oh my..."

Claudia laughed out loud, high and childlike.

"You're the first person to think about how Adelheid would feel, Edwin."

"Really?"

Claudia carefully reached out a hand to Edwin. Only after confirming that Edwin wasn't afraid of the touch and wasn't pulling away did Claudia stroke his cheek.

"How about you talk it over with Adelheid?"

"But I haven't met her yet!"

"But you'll be meeting her soon, won't you?"

Edwin's eyes went wide.

"Now — Edwin? Edgar?"

"Yes?"

"..."

Undeterred by Edgar, who was still hiding behind his uncle, Claudia laughed brightly.

"I brought presents for the two of you."

Claudia opened the nearest box. It was one of the parcels a servant had set down.

"Whoa!"

Edwin saw the contents first and let out an admiring sound. Harold gave Edgar's back a nudge to send him over to Edwin's side, but Edgar stubbornly stayed put next to his uncle. With a rueful laugh, Harold scooped Edgar up in his arms and went over himself.

Edwin's excitement had given it away, but the box was full of soft-looking dolls and toys. When Claudia opened another box, this one had books. Most of them fairy tales.

"Are these all for me and Edgar?"

"Of course. Some are gifts from me, and some are from Wilhelm — Mr. Lambert's uncle."

Claudia added with a wink,

"And there's one from Uncle's commander too."

Harold put in.

"Whoa! Edgar, look at this."

Edwin pulled out something long and stick-shaped from among the toys. It took him a moment to realize that what he'd grabbed was a wooden toy sword.

Edwin swung the sword around, cackling. Judging by how it had almost no weight to it, it was hollow.

"Uncle, Uncle!"

"Edwin, be careful indoors. Let's take it outside and try it later, all right?"

Edwin, who had come close to knocking over a vase, gave a sheepish grin.

"Yes, Uncle. Sorry."

"Full of energy, just like Harold. Edgar?"

"...Yes."

"Would you like to go pick something you like too, Edgar?"

Claudia asked Edgar just as kindly.

It was hard to find, in this kind noblewoman, the pale girl who had lain in a sickbed. The hair color, the eye color — all different.

But her expression as she waited for his answer, one corner of her mouth lifted into a light smile — that was familiar. Even though this really was the first time he'd met the duchess. Even so.

It got hard to look into those kind eyes, and Edgar squirmed. His uncle didn't resist and set him down.

"You like that one?"

"Edgar likes dolls!"

Edgar clutched to his chest a rabbit doll far larger than the bear he usually carried around, and bit down hard on his lower lip.

There were too many people watching here. He didn't want a stray tear getting misread. Edgar pushed the white rabbit doll toward his uncle.

"Hm?"

"You looked like you needed one too, Uncle."

"Uh... okay?"

"Yes."

Claudia held back a laugh. Edgar turned his head away sharply and dug through the toys alongside Edwin.

Was there anyone besides his uncle who could save her? But...

He should have at least asked what Adelheid's illness was.

Edgar regretted it. Even by his own reckoning, it was too late.

---

The Marquis Roys residence, in the Second District.

The master of the residence sat alone in his study. The refreshments he'd had brought in were nearly untouched — he'd taken only a few sips of tea. What was left in the cup had gone completely cold.

The master of the residence, Grisha Lambert, spared the cold tea no glance. Notebooks and papers were spread across the table in disarray. The hasty handwriting was messy enough in places to be nearly illegible, but Grisha combed through it carefully, missing nothing.

Material Rosemarie Doak had collected, and articles she'd left unfinished. Most of it was what she'd gathered while helping with Albrecht's work.

"..."

His hand, turning the pages of the diary, stopped.

Grisha slowly reread the page. He turned to the next one and checked what was written. Behind his glasses, his green eyes flashed.

There was one name in the diary emphasized with a dense flurry of circles.

Barbosa.

The family of Albrecht Bertholdt's missing wife.