Chapter 401: If I Do Not Return

The long hand of the wall clock crept past the mark.

The butler stood on the porch, gripping the envelopes in his hand for a long time.

He waited and waited, until the house was so quiet he could hear the geese by the pond in the back garden.

He handed the topmost envelope to the young night porter.

"Deliver this to Imperial Capital University, Room 314 in the Petrie Building."

"Hand it to Miss Isabella personally."

The second envelope went to the telegraph office.

The third he tucked inside his coat. It bore the name "Margaret."

This done, the butler returned to the gatepost and stopped.

The tooth-mark carving on the left stone pillar had faded after dawn.

Now, rainwater trickled down the grooves, the depressions already so shallow they were barely recognizable.

He didn't understand these things; he only felt an empty ache in his chest.

"Master," he said softly to the empty porch. "Why wouldn't you let me accompany you?"

Isabella hadn't slept a wink all night.

On the night of the Day of Mourning, the Academy had activated every sealing formation on campus. She had guarded her department's node and only returned to her office at dawn.

She had just sat down behind her desk, her red pen not yet dipped in ink, when a knock came at the door.

A familiar-looking young man, drenched from the rain, handed an envelope through the door.

"Miss, the butler asked me to deliver this."

Isabella recognized the handwriting.

She knew her father's script too well. Every stroke began and ended cleanly, exactly like the man himself.

The letter was short, true to her father's usual style.

Isabella read less than half of it before she shot to her feet, snatched her coat off the back of her chair, and dashed out the door.

The red pen rolled off the desk and dropped to the floor.

Richard was intercepted on his way back by his aunt.

He had just come from Flower Moon Street. After being awake all night, he was too exhausted to even speak.

"Richard!"

Isabella leaned halfway out the carriage window, her face frighteningly pale.

"Your grandfather..."

She shoved the letter into Richard's hands.

Richard read two paragraphs, then ducked into his aunt's carriage.

The carriage raced all the way to 13 Chelsea Road.

The butler was waiting on the porch. Seeing the two of them jump down, he stared blankly for a moment before his old tears nearly spilled over.

"Where is my father?" Isabella sprinted up the steps.

"The master left last night." The butler's voice trembled.

"He hasn't been back all night. After dawn... I sent the letters out as the master instructed."

"Where did he go?" Richard cut to the crucial point.

The butler shook his head, then suddenly remembered something.

"Before the master left, on the map in his study... he circled the Bone Hill Garden area with his pen."

Bone Hill Garden. Richard's mind spun.

"Let's go." His aunt dragged him back into the carriage.

The carriage rushed toward the east side of the city.

Isabella sat in the carriage, wringing her skirt with both hands, not saying a word.

Richard had never seen his aunt like this.

Her usually icy, unyielding expression was pulled completely taut, her lips trembling.

"Aunt Isabella—" Richard started, wanting to say something.

Things weren't actually as bad as everyone thought. At the very least, the biggest hurdle had been cleared.

"Don't speak," Isabella interrupted him. "Let me... let me catch my breath for a moment."

Her voice was very soft, almost drowned out by the clatter of the wheels.

Richard closed his mouth.

The two rushed into the garden and immediately saw the wreckage strewn across the ground.

Richard spread out the Still Water of his mirror condensation method, sweeping the surroundings.

The ether here was completely chaotic. A fierce battle had clearly taken place here last night.

"He's not here." Richard retracted the Still Water. "Aunt, he's not here."

"Don't panic yet. We'll split up and look."

Isabella took a deep breath, working to regain her composure.

"We'll ask at the Branch Office. With such a massive incident, the Branch Office should have a record."

At the East City Police Station, when Richard and Isabella pushed the door open after getting news from the Branch Office, the duty officer was dozing on his desk.

"Excuse me, did you see an elderly gentleman this morning? Wearing a dark gray hunting jacket, tall, with graying hair."

The officer groggily lifted his head.

"The old gentleman in the hunting jacket?" He rubbed his eyes. "He's in the back room."

Isabella swayed on her feet.

"He... he's alright?"

"What could be wrong with him?" The officer yawned.

"My colleague ran into him near Bone Hill Garden this morning. Must have gotten lost on a walk."

"Asked him where he lived, but he wouldn't say. Just said he wanted a cup of tea."

"We brewed a pot for him, and he's been sitting in the back room all morning."

Richard and Isabella exchanged a glance, then both practically bolted toward the back room at the same time.

The back room was a spartan reception area with an old wooden table and two chairs.

Gerard sat there, a thick porcelain teacup steaming in front of him.

He held the cup, taking a slow, measured sip.

His leisurely demeanor was completely at odds with the two people who had just turned the world upside down looking for him.

"Dad!"

Gerard looked up, pausing in surprise when he saw his daughter.

"Why are you here?" he asked, setting the teacup down. "Aren't you busy at the university?"

"Why am I here?" The stoic expression Isabella had maintained the whole way suddenly shattered.

"Your farewell letter was delivered to my office! I thought you... I thought you..."

She couldn't go on. Tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Only then did Gerard remember the three letters.

His expression stiffened for a moment.

"...About the letters," he coughed and looked away. "The butler sent them too early."

"Too early?" Isabella wiped at her tears, her voice cracking. "What do you mean, too early?!"

"I mean..." Gerard was uncharacteristically lost for words. "What was supposed to happen, didn't happen."

Watching from the doorway, Richard finally let his suspended heart settle back into his chest.

"And you've just been sitting here alone, drinking tea all morning?"

Isabella's tears hadn't stopped, but her tone was already turning aggressive.

"The tea here is quite good," Gerard deflected, lifting his cup for another sip. "Want a taste?"

"Taste what?!"

Isabella snatched the cup right out of his hand and slammed it down on the table, splashing tea everywhere.

Looking at his daughter's tearful, furious state, Gerard's usually stern old face gradually softened.

He didn't know how to explain it either.

The horn had come, and then it had gone.

He had followed the police officer here, sat down, and had a cup of tea.

From morning until now, he had been nursing this single cup of tea, his mind turning over the sole fact that he had failed to die.

"Richard." Gerard's gaze swept past his daughter and landed on his grandson.

Richard met his eyes. Neither grandfather nor grandson said a word.

By the time they brought Gerard back to 13 Chelsea Road, it was already noon.

Seeing his master step across the threshold alive and well, the butler's knees gave out. He only kept himself from dropping to the floor by clutching the doorframe.

"Master..." he wiped his eyes, babbling incoherently. "You're back... you've finally come back..."

"What are you crying for?" Gerard handed him his briefcase. "I'm perfectly fine."

"The letters... those three letters..." the butler was still wiping his tears.

"Voided." Gerard shrugged off his rain-dampened hunting jacket. "Go get them back."

Just as he spoke, the telephone in the living room began to ring like crazy.

The butler went to answer it.

After hearing just one sentence, his face paled. He hastily muffled the mouthpiece and looked back at his master.

"...It's Miss Margaret."

Gerard's expression froze.

Isabella snatched the receiver from him.

"Sister! It's me!" she yelled into the phone before anyone else could. "Dad's fine! It was a false alarm!"

For a moment, there was dead silence on the other end of the line.

Then, Margaret's voice exploded. Even through the telephone line, Richard could hear her loud and clear.

"What do you mean, a false alarm?!"

"I received that letter and collapsed on the spot! Your brother-in-law had to catch me so I didn't hit the floor! Evelyn was so scared she couldn't even eat!"

"I was just about to pack my things and catch a train to the Imperial Capital, and now you're telling me it was a false alarm?!"

Isabella pulled the receiver slightly away from her ear.

"Sister, listen to me..."

"Put him on! Let him tell me himself!"

Gerard took the receiver.

"Margaret." He cleared his throat, adopting the authoritative posture of the head of the house. "I'm fine."

"You're fine?!" The voice on the other end pitched up sharply.

"If you're fine, why did you write that letter?!"

"It was... just in case."

"Just in case?" Margaret's voice shook.

"Dad, I haven't heard a single soft word from you in over thirty years, and the moment you finally do, it's a farewell letter!"

Gerard pressed the receiver tighter to his ear, temporarily at a loss for words.

When this daughter of his flew into a rage, she was exactly like her mother.

"I..." He stumbled, a rare occurrence. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

"Dad..." Margaret's tone softened. "As long as you're alright."

"You being alright... is better than anything."

Gerard gripped the receiver.

"You don't need to rush for the train. Wait until it gets warmer in the spring, and bring the family then."

"You didn't stay long enough during Christmas. Stay a few more days this time."

After hanging up, the living room fell silent for a moment.

Then Isabella couldn't hold it back anymore; she let out a sudden snort of laughter.

"...Go on, finish grading those test papers of yours," Gerard scolded with a straight face.

"All you do all day is watch your old man make a fool of himself."

Isabella laughed even harder.

Her eyes, still red from crying, curved into crescents. Tears still clung to her eyelashes, but her whole face had bloomed into a joyous smile.

Standing to the side, watching this house full of reclaimed life and noise, the heavy stone in Richard's heart finally and completely dropped.

The butler came in to report.

"Master... the delivery from Whitby has arrived."

The delivery from Whitby was an enormous black-lacquered wooden chest.

"What is this?" Isabella leaned over to look.

Gerard didn't say a word, his expression visibly souring.

He hesitated but eventually opened the chest anyway. Inside was an entire box of Black Jade Mourning Brooches.

The brooches were polished to perfection, gleaming black, with a small tuft of braided hair set into the center of each one.

Isabella picked one up and turned it over. Engraved on the back were the words, "In memory of the late father."

"Dad... did you..."

"I ordered them myself." Gerard's voice was terribly dry. "To give out to you all... and anyone who came to offer condolences."

Isabella stared at Gerard for a long time.

"You ordered this many brooches. Did you really think that many people would come wear them for you?"

"The Ashford House still has a few old friends." Gerard's voice lowered.

"Put them all away," Gerard finally said. "Keep the brooches."

"Keep them for what?" Isabella asked.

"There will be a day when they're useful."

The old man's voice was very calm.

"Just because I didn't go today, doesn't mean I won't the next time."

"Don't say things like that!"

"Alright, alright." Gerard waved his hand, yielding in a rare moment of submission. "I won't say it."

With the false alarm finally over, everyone relaxed, the tension draining from their bones.

The butler bustled about, bringing out hot soup and bread, but Isabella had little appetite. Instead, she began flipping through the farewell letter she hadn't finished reading earlier.

"...When you were seven, you wove a crown of daisies, put it on the head of our old hunting dog, and dubbed him the 'Flower Fairy.'"

The more Isabella read, the stranger her expression became.

"...When you were eleven, you sneaked downstairs wearing the high heels your mother left behind.

You missed a step and tumbled all the way from the fifth stair to the bottom, crying and insisting that the staircase had it out for you..."

The tips of Isabella's ears slowly turned red.

Richard had been keeping his head down and drinking his soup, but upon seeing his aunt's expression, his curiosity was piqued. He casually leaned a little closer to her.

"...After your mother passed, you were afraid of the dark at night. You stubbornly claimed a thief had broken into the house and insisted on sleeping in the same bed as your sister."

Richard couldn't hold back and read it aloud.

"Later, your sister secretly told me that the 'thief' was just the sound of you kicking your blankets... Aunt Isabella, I didn't know you were so..."

"Richard!"

Isabella snatched the paper away, her ears flushing so fiercely they looked like they could bleed.

Without looking at it again, she tore the page to shreds and crumpled it into a ball right at the table.

Gerard kept his head down and sipped his soup, not even lifting his eyes.

"Tear it up. I've got it all memorized."

Isabella was so angry she couldn't speak. She clenched the crumpled wad of paper in her hand, too embarrassed to actually throw it away.