Chapter 177: Price of simplicity
Since the first moment Ezekiel Henley’s eyes had fallen on Ruelle Belmont, he had been taken in by her. Beneath the old clothes, small house and the fear sitting in her brown eyes at the sight of the debt collectors, the misery surrounding her had only made her seem more beautiful to him.
Though he had ended up marrying the younger sister in pursuit of a position within the courthouse, he had always believed Ruelle would eventually find her way toward him on her own.
The position he had sacrificed so much for no longer felt nearly as important as the growing realisation that Ruelle was slipping further beyond his reach.
He was aware that she had spent her entire life starving for affection. The thought that she had found comfort in another man settled bitterly in his mind.
"Mr. Henley?" The man who had lent the newsletter noticed Ezekiel’s hands crumple it.
"My apologies. I got distracted lately." Ezekiel turned to the man while loosening his fingers around the ruined paper. "I will buy you a fresh one," offering a polite smile.
"That’s alright. It can still be read. For a moment there, you looked as though you wanted to strangle someone," the man laughed, taking the newsletter from Ezekiel’s hand. He then said, "Oh, isn’t she your wife’s sister? The Slaters are from the old bloodlines, aren’t they? Looks like she climbed rather high. Congratulations!"
Something cold passed through Ezekiel’s eyes. He murmured, "It certainly appears that way..."
"I must say, when I first heard you were getting married to one of the Belmonts’ daughters, I wondered why you would do it at all. Harold had too much debt. Might I add he didn’t seem to want to stop last night either. But it seems you will be gaining the favour of the Slaters now," the man patted Ezekiel’s back before he started to walk. "You ought to treat me to a cup of tea for your sister-in-law’s news!"
Ezekiel’s jaw tightened faintly and he tried to smile. "Right."
Instead of taking the carriage, Ezekiel continued walking deeper into the forest until the sounds of the town disappeared entirely behind him. Before he realised it himself, his fist collided against the rough bark of the nearest tree. The impact sent snow cascading from the branches above, scattering heavily onto the ground around him.
"I should have gotten rid of Caroline before the marriage," the thought escaped from his gritted teeth.
His hand slipped into his coat pocket, and he pulled out the embroidered handkerchief that belonged to Ruelle. "I am finding it hard to forgive your actions... but I will make you understand with whom you should have remained beside."
After several hours, Ezekiel arrived before a shabby house that stood at the edge of a quiet village, smoke curling slowly from the chimney, which was hidden by the winter’s air. He knocked on the door before the wooden door creaked open. A woman peered through the narrow crack of the door.
"I need your help," Ezekiel said calmly. "I brought you souvenirs."
Stepping aside, he revealed the carriage waiting behind him. Inside, two unconscious children sat slumped against the seats.
Back in the Slater mansion, by the hour of noon, Ruelle had spent much of her time accompanying Maude through the mansion while the head housekeeper carried out her duties. Despite the sheer size of the place, everything somehow continued running with careful order beneath Maude’s watchful eye.
"Please remember that you cannot carry things from here, Miss Ruelle," Maude informed her, as if remembering what she had tried last time in the kitchen. "The future lady of the house should not be carrying things through the kitchen."
"Even if it is for her family?" Ruelle asked, puffing one side of her cheek slightly.
The older woman’s expression remained as composed as ever. "Yes, even then. It might seem strange, but the staff will grow uncomfortable if you continue trying to work alongside them. You can ask the minister’s assistant. This is what is followed."
Ruelle turned to look at Peyton, who quietly followed them at a distance without bothering them.
"But what if..." Ruelle hesitated briefly before continuing beside Maude. "I want to cook for my husband and his family? That is how women back where I come from usually showed affection."
The words left her mouth naturally before she properly realised it. Heat crept faintly into her face, though she kept her gaze forward while walking beside Maude.
Maude’s lips pursed faintly at Ruelle’s words before she replied, "If you truly wish to do so, Miss Ruelle, then inform me beforehand so the kitchen may prepare the necessary ingredients and staff for you."
"Miss Ruelle, Master Lucian has returned to the mansion."
Ruelle’s eyes brightened at the words. "I will take up the next lessons later. I forgot my scarf upstairs."
Before the older woman could properly respond, Ruelle had already turned and begun making her way back through the corridor, her footsteps quickening against the floor.
"Miss Ruelle, one of t—" Maude began, only for her words to trail off as she watched the young woman disappear around the corridor.
By the time Ruelle returned downstairs with her scarf in her hand, she caught sight of Lucian standing at the bottom of the stairs. His wine-red eyes lifted the moment she appeared. It was only while hurrying down the remaining stairs that Ruelle suddenly became far too aware that she had rushed downstairs simply because Lucian had returned.
And lost in that thought, her foot missed the step.
A startled breath nearly escaped Ruelle when her body tilted forward, only for Lucian’s hand to catch firmly around her waist before she could fall further. She felt herself being pulled back into balance before their eyes met. She could feel the strength of his hand holding her through the layers of her dress.
"I thought you intended to obey the treaty’s conditions. Were you that eager to see me?" Lucian’s voice came low beside her and heat rushed into her face at his words.
At the top of the stairs, Peyton remained silent at the sight of it. After all, the human would have fallen down the staircase entirely if Lucian had not caught her.
"I did not wish to keep you waiting," Ruelle replied softly, only to realise a moment too late what her own words sounded like.
Lucian’s head tilted subtly.
"And yet you are still the one making me wait," he murmured before his fingers loosened around her. "Were you with Maude?"
Ruelle gave him a nod as she smoothed the fabric of her skirt. "She has been teaching me a lot of things I didn’t know about the mansion," she answered as they made their way out of the mansion. "Have you eaten?"
Lucian hummed in response.
"In the courthouse?" Ruelle asked curiously as they walked with the minister’s assistant walking not too far behind them while not crowding them. She wondered if one of the humans had been summoned before the person’s wrist was cut off in front of Lucian.
Lucian noticed the slight frown pull on Ruelle’s face before she fixed her expression when their eyes met. He said, "With the number of humans bought there and the hatred many of them carry toward our kind, it is the easiest way to draw blood without any contamination."
"I thought the courthouse would have precautions against something like that," Ruelle murmured as an internal conflict arose.
The thought still left an uncomfortable feeling inside her chest. The humans willingly arrived at Sexton before they were eventually sold to others, yet the image of blood being drawn beneath fear continued lingering unpleasantly within her mind. But somehow, the thought of someone trying to poison Lucian’s drink unsettled her even more.
If Lady Irina had been killed during the war... had there been attempts on the rest of the Slater family afterwards too? Ruelle quietly wondered to herself.
"Walls only keep out predictable threats," Lucian said calmly.
When they arrived at the doors, one of the servants stepped forward and reached for Ruelle’s coat from the stand. But before it could be handed to her, Lucian moved first. His long fingers found the coat and he then stretched the collar open.
Ruelle blinked. For a second, confusion flickered across her features before it dawned on her that he wanted to help her wear it. She smiled and said,
"I can wear it."
"I know," Lucian answered before adding quietly, "But I want to dote on you. I can, can’t I?"
Since the last few days, there were things she was still getting used to. Lucian’s affection wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet either. It came in moments she least expected, as if those were the most natural thing to do.
Feeling a flutter in her chest, she turned her back to him and raised her arms. Her hands slipped into the sleeves one after another, the fabric offering more warmth than she last remembered.
Ruelle felt Lucian guide the coat while not touching her skin but being so achingly close. His fingers adjusted the collar and she felt the brush of air as his hands moved, while they never touched her skin.
And she felt him step back.
When Ruelle turned to face him, her breath seemed to catch in her throat from the look in his eyes. It was a hunger so carefully controlled that it seemed like tenderness.
"Shall we?" His voice was soft on Ruelle’s ears.
Ruelle quietly nodded. The doors opened and they stepped outside into the cold, before climbing inside the carriage with Peyton, leaving the Slaters’ mansion behind.
After what seemed like almost an hour because of the snow that had slowed down the travel, they finally arrived at the house Ruelle had been intending to visit since almost a week.
The abandoned house looked the same as it did a few days ago. The gates still creaked as they walked past it and the path to the door had been cleared of the snow. Just as Ruelle was about to walk past the threshold, her movements slowed as if she would hallucinate and hear more voices, but she didn’t. Instead she received a quiet but suspicious look from Peyton.
Making her way to the drawing room, she walked to where the plant had grown taller, its leaves spread out. When she put her hands on the pot, nothing changed, and a slight disappointment fell on her face.
It was probably because she wanted to hear the boy’s voice again, as she believed it belonged to Lucian.
"Let me take it," Peyton offered, taking the pot in her hands before stepping outside the room.
Ruelle’s footsteps led her outside the room, her fingers gliding against the wall as if she would pick something. But instead, she was led to where Lucian stood before a portrait.
"I didn’t walk this far last time... else I would have known this used to be my home," Ruelle murmured, as her eyes fell on her parents, a young Caroline and... her, whose side appeared torn and attached. "It looks like even time didn’t want me part of the family..." there was a hint of melancholy beneath her words as she stared at the portrait.
Lucian, who stood beside her, his lips pursed for a brief moment. He then said, "I will ask the local painter to fix it up. He knows how to restore old paintings and if not him, there are others."
Ruelle shook her head. "You don’t have to go through that trouble. It isn’t like you tore it," a small laugh escaped her lips, but when she turned to look at Lucian, she caught him staring at her with those cool eyes. "Did you...?"
"Call it childish anger. It seemed easier to hate you then than love you," Lucian murmured in the end. A faint look of displeasure crossed his face before a quiet sigh escaped him.
Ruelle knew it wasn’t a simple anger as he made it out to be. It was rage.
With the way it was torn, where only she in the portrait had been torn and almost looked crumpled, Ruelle felt the weight of his suffering in the past. She tried to lighten up the mood by saying,
"Well, at least you placed me back there instead of burning it. People become who they are because of the things they survive. I know it was never something within my control, but... I still wish I could have been there beside you then."
Ruelle didn’t notice the silence from Lucian while she stared at the old portrait yet she could not remember a single thing about it. She wondered out loud,
"It is strange that my parents never thought of returning here."
"When my father tried to find your family, he found out that Harold sold it to one of the human families for money," Lucian explained, his hands slipping into his coat pockets. "The transaction was done quick and quietly. The human family whom he sold it to, was informed that he was moving up to the north."
"But we never did..." Ruelle said softly.
"Carnifex sent men to scout and bring your family back to complete the treaty. Even though things were stressful right after the war, he believed it would bring a little peace and quiet down the uproar," Lucian explained to her, and they began to walk down the corridor. "But in less than two months, it was given up. Harold hid you all well."
Ruelle and he took a walk around the house, exploring the rooms before they stepped inside the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the floor and her mind filled itself with images of silhouettes.
’What are you doing here, young miss?’ she heard a woman’s warm voice.
’There are ghosts in my room...’ came a young girl’s voice. ’Can I sleep here, Daisy?’
’Of course, Miss Ruelle. But only until Mr. Belmont wakes up, okay?’
"She must have been a maid who had worked here. Daisy," Ruelle murmured with a slight frown. She asked, "Are there any maids or servants who are still alive who worked for my family?"
Lucian shook his head. "All of them were dead."
"I see..." her voice trailed. She felt guilty for losing her memory of someone kind. Someone who must have cared for her between these cold walls that had refused to accept her. She then added, "She must be the one who gave the plant in the pot." It was because the last time, she remembered the voice saying they were going to water the plant. "Pink peonies have been my favourite."
"Is that so?" Lucian hummed as he continued watching her.
Ruelle nodded enthusiastically. "I told you that my favourite colour is pale pink," she reminded him.
"I remember," Lucian hadn’t forgotten that morning, how she subconsciously picked a colour he had given her when they were little.
Even though the house had once been bought by one of the high-standing human families, no attempt had ever been made to restore it. The town itself had once been considered desirable because of its location, yet regardless of status, many humans had never truly forgotten the friction that existed between the factions. The tension still lingered quietly beneath everyday life, waiting to unleash once again.
Lucian had taken advantage of that fear when he bought the house.
When Lucian stepped away as Claude whispered something to him, Ruelle was left standing in the hall with Peyton.
"I guess indirect is okay?" Ruelle asked the vampiress, talking about Lucian with her coat. Or perhaps she had decided to loosen up.
"It was only a simple gesture," Peyton remarked, though even she appeared aware of how close it had come to crossing the condition. She then added, "Mr. Slater appears to exercise considerably more restraint than he once did in the past."
Of course, Ruelle realised. Peyton must have known or seen him grow. She asked, "What do you mean?"
A flicker of a frown seemed to pass the vampiress’s expression, her lips had loosened more than she had intended. Her bright red eyes seemed to move to where the carriage was, where the two men stood, before she replied,
"It’s nothing. Don’t pay attention to my words."
A smile rose to Ruelle’s lips. She answered, "How can I not? Lucian doesn’t say much about himself... What did you mean by in the past?"
Peyton’s lips were set in a thin line. She then said,
"It isn’t about him, but his mother. When the reports of death and cause are being recorded, we try to trace back the culprits through the survived victims. Lady Irina had no reason to go to the town that day except to buy a ribbon after her son’s future bride asked for one."
The smile that was on Ruelle’s lips fell immediately and she turned pale at the older woman’s words.
Because from Peyton’s words, there was only one thing Ruelle could understand... if it weren’t for her, Lady Irina would have never stepped foot in the town, and she would still be alive.
"How... how can you be sure?" Ruelle’s hands clenched into tight fists on her sides as she felt her stomach drop. A quiet sigh escaped from the vampiress’s lips, as if she didn’t wish to speak about it further but after a pause, she answered.
"If I remember correctly, there had been a prior soiree arrangement she was meant to attend but she declined it at the last minute to shop. The head housekeeper was the one who told about it."
Though Ruelle had only been a child then, it did not erase the thought now settling heavily inside her chest. If she had chosen something else or if she had chosen nothing at all... Lucian would still have his mother.
The weight on her chest grew heavy. She turned to where Lucian was talking to Claude and she felt like he didn’t resent her enough... Even Dane and Lord Azriel.
"It was a long time ago. Not like anyone could predict what was going to happen," Peyton added upon seeing the troubled expression on the young woman’s face. She hoped the human wouldn’t break down, because their kind were fragile and she doubted Lucian would take it kindly for sharing something even though it was already out in the open.
After several seconds, Ruelle stepped out of the house, making her way to where Lucian stood.
"... the reports must have already been received by Mr. Judas. But the package was—" Claude paused when Ruelle’s footsteps halted.
"Is everything alright?" Ruelle asked the men.
"Just regular work," Lucian said, and he asked, "Bored?"
Ruelle shook her head and managed a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She then spoke, "I was thinking of visiting the nearby church with Peyton."
Lucian’s cool eyes stared at Ruelle’s face as if assessing it. "Okay."
"We will go by foot," Ruelle added and she then turned to Peyton, saying, "Let us go."
The church was only five minutes away from the house. And unlike the appearance of her abandoned house, the church was in good condition with the coloured glass walls and benches intact. Due to the gloomy weather, the corners of the church were left shadowed. With no other civilians, Ruelle’s footsteps softly echoed against the wooden flooring and Peyton’s movements were almost non-existent.
Ruelle knew prayers wouldn’t bring someone back, but it allowed her to share the weight of grief and guilt she felt right now.
And while she sat on one of the benches, staring at the altar and letting her mind find some peace, Peyton, who had leant her back against the wall, watched her from the side.
"It would make more sense for you to speak to Lucian than sit here," the vampiress spoke.
Perhaps, Ruelle thought to herself. She asked, "Do you not believe in God?"
"Only when a situation arises but there have been very few," Peyton’s reply was almost mechanical. "I should have stayed quiet," she exhaled quietly.
"No... I am glad you told it. Of course, it doesn’t make me glad knowing it. It feels quite terrible. But now—I know the depth of it," Ruelle replied, meeting the woman’s eyes. "It would have been worse not knowing. The truth doesn’t become lighter simply because nobody speaks about it, does it?"
Peyton murmured, "I was worried you were going to break down here."
Ruelle looked back toward the altar. "It feels wrong to sit here thinking only about myself and cry," her fingers intertwined in her lap, "when he is the one who lost her. Instead, I want to be someone whom he can count on."
The vampiress looked slightly taken aback by the human’s words.
It was because humans were fragile and volatile creatures. Peyton had expected tears, denial or perhaps anger directed toward herself. Most people sought somewhere to place their grief when it became too heavy to carry, which was why the human had visited the church. Yet Ruelle had accepted the truth, however painful it was. There was a quiet resilience in that which Peyton found herself unexpectedly respecting.
"By the way, Peyton, I want a favour from you," Ruelle began, her light voice carrying through the space.
The vampiress stared at her before asking, "What kind?"
"It won’t be anything that will make you break the conditions or your morals," Ruelle assured the woman.
After spending ten more minutes there, Ruelle walked through the doors and caught sight of Lucian standing against the carriage door that was parked not far from the church. He wore such a tranquil expression that it brought an involuntary smile on Ruelle’s lips as she joined him.
