Chapter Text
Almost a week passed in restless angst and conflicting guilt for poor Leonie. Croquet was played in the fine weather, walks were taken, fine meals were enjoyed and tea was taken beneath the rose-covered gazebo. In the moments of silence and solitude, where Raphael and Bernadetta were permitted to be alone in the drawing room and Ignatz had gone off in search of fine things to sketch and paint, Leonie felt the nagging sense of curiosity lap at her mind.
Why her? Indeed, it was a question of black depth. She glanced towards Count Gloucester on Sunday morning as they returned to the mansion by foot. They had gone to church to listen to one of Ignatz’s short and reverent sermons, peppered with artistic phrases such as, the goddess’s grace is bountiful and forgiving, and do not fear the sins of judgement; instead ask how you may redeem yourself.
Such a timely sermon clouded Leonie’s mind as she walked. Raphael and Bernadetta walked ahead with Ignatz, the latter two—children of the Seiros faith—had grown up close to the scriptures and discussed both moral and spiritual things. Raphael listened along to his dearest friend and his fiancée, happily content with their mutual interest in such philosophical matters.
Judgement rattled around in her mind like a child’s toy. Her bluntness and brash nature had—perhaps, during the most important time in her life—wronged her. In the harsh judgments she placed upon Count Gloucester, she completely neglected all sense of grace and goodness in him.
She confirmed, in the days spent at Rosedale, that he was the source of the good fortunes around her and the county. Taking pen to paper, she wrote down all the things he done in his short tenure as Count Gloucester.
He brought in the mercenaries to deal with the poachers in Sauin. He improved the infrastructure in Sauin and other towns. He sought the employment of Ignatz at the parsonage and patronized his artistic career. He brought Bernadetta and Raphael back together and endured their mutual upset. His selfishness, his snobbery of five years past had changed, quite drastically. He was now a gracious, kind-tempered gentleman.
And, if Leonie is was trusting in her judgments—albeit them carefully and cautiously made now—all these changes, these acts were for someone.
Bernadetta and Raphael were called back in Derdriu, and departed shortly after the service. Bernadetta, to the side of her uncle to settle any remaining duties to his house and business, and Raphael to the many engagements of the Kirsten properties which were doing quite well throughout Leicester. They all bade the happy couple farewell and watched as the coach disappeared into the verdant meadows beyond Rosedale.
“I suppose we should be leaving soon.” Said Ignatz with a sigh.
“On the contrary, Mr Victor, I had wished to speak to you of business matters. I believe you are still occupying the parish, supported by my late mother.”
“Oh, i-indeed I am.”
Leonie eyed the two and sensing an important discussion of business said: “Excuse me, I wanna go for a walk. I’ll be in the gardens.”
She turned her head too quickly, as to not see Lorenz’s eyes follow her shrinking frame.
The day was darker, not quite as fine as it had been. It was a gloomy sky, threatened by rain at a later hour. Her shawl was scarcely enough, but the activity would make her cheeks colour and her body warm soon enough.
The gardens spread before her like a storybook from her childhood. The rolling hills of emerald green. The gardens that were organized by flower genus and size. The small rose garden, planted by a loving ancestor and maintained by his descendants. The iron patio wares were hidden beneath the gazebo for the approaching finer weather.
In a short while, the Gloucesters would away to Enbarr for the social season. Due to his constraints and duties, Lorenz might have not stayed as long as he once did when he was a carefree bachelor and not yet a sleepless count. Yet Leonie was certain that a man of one of the oldest noble families in Fódlan would make his presence known during such an important and high spirited season.
She found herself drawn to the rose garden and took a seat on the marble bench along the exterior of the gazebo. Rosebud blooms greeted her with their green heads and beckoned her to take her rest. Though her knee did not ache—and in fact, felt quite well that day—she took the respite gladly.
There. It was five years ago there that she was met with his proposal and rejected him. And five years later, she found herself regretting such a brash decision.
She had been too hasty in her judgments, believing only what she saw over a true analysis of character. And, if Leonie knew then what she knew now—his kindness, his grace, his care and civility—perhaps she would not have said no.
“Miss Pinelli?”
She looked up. A young farmhand approached her. A lad, no older than seven and ten years, with neat but economical clothes stood awkwardly before her.
“Yes?”
Wordlessly, the farmhand held out a small letter.
“Who’s it from?” She asked, glancing down to the wax seal, looking for any symbol as to give away it’s sender. When she looked back up, the farmhand is gone.
Throwing propriety to the wind, she tore open the letter. It was a message from her grandmother, asking how she fared. At the bottom, in the awkward, almost-illiterate scrawl of the re-hired housekeeper, was a impertinent remark:
… how foul it is to have to wait on Gloucester. If you need of an exit plan, my darling, simply lie and say my arthritis is gout and be off with you. Such a vile rat of a man. I write that with gratitude—I should have called him something much worse if I was not the slightest bit grateful to him!
Her stomach ached with anxiety and her foot began to bounce up and down. Lorenz’s reputation amongst some in Sauin was still that of his father’s: that he was a rich, spoiled young man with terrible manners and lacked kindness and was in excess of wealth. His kindnesses and generosity, while great, were handled with caution.
That afternoon, they said farewell to Ignatz. As he left, he happily told Leonie that he would be leaving the late Countess Gloucester’s parish, espoused at last to become an artist.
“Lorenz didn’t do that for you.” Leonie insisted, aghast.
Ignatz beamed. “He did!” He insisted. “He’ll cover my expenses. He’s dispatching me to Ordelia to paint his friend’s portrait as a belated birthday gift.”
“What about a home?”
“He’s assured me that he’ll handle it.” Ignatz smiled again.
His horse was saddled and rode away in a canter, leaving Rosedale, and with it, Count Gloucester and Miss Pinelli behind.
The two stood in silence for a few moments, watching the fading figure of Ignatz and gazing at the countryside. Leonie met Lorenz’s gaze. They regarded each other in humble, aching silence, then both slowly turned towards the castle, their steps leisurely and slow.
“I had once wanted to be a painter.” Confessed Leonie.
The admission caught Lorenz off guard. He raised a brow. “You did?”
“I was okay at it.” Said Leonie, slightly aglow from the attention. “I gave it up to focus on more prestigious accomplishments. Like singing and the harpsichord, a little sewing. Horseback riding was my favourite. Painting is nothing compared to a woman who can ride side-saddle.”
Lorenz inclined his head toward her. “I am blessed with sisters, Miss Pinelli; I know the importance of accomplishments well.” He insisted. “And I dare say you know the finer points of conversation like a parson knows his parish, and have improved since we met.”
She smiled. “The parish, the patronage, the union… You’re more generous than I remember.” She murmured coyly.
Lorenz smiled. Leonie recalled her prior doubts in his ability to. “As I told you, I treat my friends with care and civility.” He said before adding with amusement. “And returning to the topic of music, Miss Varley said you were a singer?”
Leonie barked out a laugh. “I lack the essential ability to carry a tune.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He said. “Come, I wish to hear you.”
“Count Gloucester, I think you’ll be very disappointed.”
“Do not worry, Miss Pinelli.” He assured her as they climbed the steps into the great house. “I shall not make you do something you do not wish for.”
Silently, Leonie wished she acquiesced.