Chapter 22:
* * *
That evening, I returned from a delightful dinner at a traditional Scottish restaurant that Jimmy had confidently chosen.
Personally, I liked a dish called “haggis” the most. It reminded me of the blood sausage (sundae) I used to eat in my previous life.
“The English keep calling haggis some sort of grotesque food, but that’s nonsense from people who don’t know fine cuisine!”
Jimmy, a native of Edinburgh, seemed to harbor quite a bit of resentment toward the English. He was visibly pleased to see me enjoying the haggis.
After a pleasant dinner and conversation, we returned to the mansion.
“Emily, come here for a moment.”
Helena caught me and led me into her room.
She handed me a stack of documents, which I quickly scanned. I couldn’t help but be impressed.
“This is…”
It was research about some of the statues at Greyfriars Kirkyard, one of the most notoriously haunted cemeteries in the UK.
Helena explained:
“The statues Jimmy saw moving… when I looked into their origins, it turns out they came from Lille, France.”
Although they had taken on bizarre forms now, originally—
They were saints’ statues created in the early 15th century by villagers in Lille to honor the souls of martyrs.
The villagers had suffered under the tyranny and exploitation of a local lord. When the parish priest and his disciples publicly denounced the abuse, the enraged lord brutally murdered them.
“But because of that, the king’s army was dispatched. The people were freed from the cruel lord, and they erected statues to honor the souls of the slain.”
Helena added that these statues were called “aveugle révélateur”, or “The Blind Accuser.”
The Blind Accuser.
What an evocative name. I murmured it under my breath and nodded at her.
“Hm, that’s a more touching legend than I expected.”
“But there’s one more interesting thing. According to local folklore, when these ‘Blind Accusers’ want to reveal something…”
Helena pointed to a part of the document as she continued.
“They move their immobile bodies to point a finger at something—to reveal the truth.”
At those words, I recalled something Jimmy had said a few days ago:
“It was pointing at something with its hand.”
Then what were those statues trying to tell Jimmy?
* * *
As I left Helena’s room, one of Sir Henry’s personal maids was waiting for me.
“Um, Miss Emily. It’s just that…”
I was a little startled by what she said next.
“…Sir Henry was waiting to have dinner with you?”
The maid nodded awkwardly.
I had clearly told one of the staff I would be eating out, but it seemed the message hadn’t been delivered properly.
“Oh dear.”
When I went to explain things to Sir Henry, he—ever the gentleman—shook his head and said it was fine.
“There must have been a communication error. Will you join me for tea later, then?”
As he suggested, we met for refreshments in the drawing room at the center of the mansion after he finished dinner.
A little while later, in the first-floor drawing room:
Henry and I sat across from each other at a tea table, which was charmingly laid out with small scones, butter, jam, cheese, and more.
“The tea tastes lovely.”
As I sipped the fragrant yet slightly bitter black tea, Henry smiled gently and nodded.
“I don’t mean to brag, but our kitchen maid is quite talented.”
“I can tell.”
“Ah, did you enjoy your dinner earlier?”
“The restaurant Jimmy introduced was quite nice. The dish called haggis suited my taste more than I expected…”
As I casually responded to Henry’s passing question—
Suddenly, his expression darkened.
“…So it was Jimmy you had dinner with?”
“Yes, why?” I asked.
Henry bit his lip and shook his head.
“No, it’s nothing. Please don’t worry about it.”
“….”
I tried not to, as he said. But—
His expression made it impossible to ignore.
The corners of his lips were drooping, just like the day I first arrived at the mansion.
Eventually, I couldn’t take it and gently lifted his chin to make him look at me. His eyes widened in shock.
“Henry, look me in the eye.”
“….”
“Whatever you’re thinking, just say it honestly. No matter what it is, I won’t be disappointed.”
Henry Langham hesitated for a long moment, lips trembling. Only after I withdrew my hand from his chin did he finally speak.
“Well, actually…”
Apparently, an acquaintance he’d met earlier in the afternoon had said something to him.
“Hey Henry, that lady you’ve been rumored to be involved with—”
“Rumors? Don’t say things like that. We’re nothing more than good friends.”
“Let’s skip the technicalities. It’s Mrs. Carter, right? The most beautiful widow in London.”
“What about her?”
The acquaintance lowered his voice meaningfully.
“I think she’s seeing some doctor on the side?”
“That’s ridiculous. Don’t slander her name—”
“I saw it with my own eyes!”
Frustrated that Henry wouldn’t believe him, the man even thumped his chest with a fist as he spoke.
“I saw her in front of the Edinburgh Medical Building, arm-in-arm with some man, getting into the very carriage you sent!”
After finishing his story, Henry fell silent, eyes downcast. Then, after a long pause, he continued.
“I… I told that friend to never speak such nonsense to anyone else.”
He looked up at me, eyes filled with sadness.
“I know I’m being foolish.”
“….”
“Who you meet, what kind of relationship you have with Jimmy—it’s your freedom. I know that. And I have no right to be jealous of Jimmy…”
His face darkened even more after saying that.
Hm. If I left him like this, he’d dig himself a hole deep enough to come out on the other side of the earth.
I quickly organized my thoughts and spoke honestly.
“Henry, it’s true I met Jimmy. And yes, I did link arms with him and get into a carriage, just like your friend said.”
“…!”
He looked utterly shocked—he must’ve hoped that part wasn’t true.
“But that was only because Jimmy asked me to.”
I briefly explained, without revealing anything too personal on Jimmy’s part, that I’d agreed to help him clear up a misunderstanding.
When I said I was just helping him resolve an unjust rumor, Henry finally looked convinced.
“I see.”
“So don’t jump to conclusions or misunderstand, okay? Oh, and I’ll bring Jimmy here sometime—let’s talk together then.”
Jimmy had already mentioned wanting to visit the mansion soon anyway.
As I added that, Henry’s face turned slightly red with embarrassment.
“…I must’ve seemed so pitiful…”
“And one more thing.”
I stood up with a bright smile.
“Don’t go digging emotional holes over nonsense. From now on, if you’re curious about anything, ask me directly. Got it?”
“…Yes.”
Like a scolded child, he nodded meekly.
I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Good night.”
When I turned to look back from the door, Henry was frozen like a statue, hand pressed to the cheek I’d kissed.
How adorable.
I stifled a laugh and returned to my room.
* * *
Two days later—
I found myself in an unfamiliar place.
“If you want more information about the statues, would you like to meet someone in person?”
Helena not only told me the legend of the moving statues, but also tracked down their distribution route.
She introduced me to George McMurrin, a famous antiques dealer and art appraiser in Edinburgh.
“This is his shop.”
Even from the outside, the place exuded luxury.
As I stepped inside, the bell above the door rang with a clear chime.
“Welcome.”
A modestly dressed young man behind the counter greeted me.
“I have an appointment with Mr. McMurrin.”
At that, a large middle-aged man burst through the inner door.
His ruddy face and broad build made him seem energetic and good-natured.
“Are you Mrs. Carter, by chance?”
“Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. McMurrin.”
“I’m George McMurrin. Pleased to meet you, madam.”
George McMurrin.
The name sounded vaguely familiar—but that was all.
“Pleasure’s mine.”
He gave me an awkward smile.
“I heard from Mrs. Blavatsky, but… well, there’s a bit of a problem.”
When I asked what it was, McMurrin scratched his head and explained apologetically.
He had cleared his afternoon schedule to meet me—but a long-time client had suddenly summoned him.
“They said they had something urgent to sell…”
The situation was understandable.
Antique dealers like him usually dealt with nobles—people with too much money and time on their hands.
Only those who offered excellent “customer service” could survive in this line of work.
“He’s our biggest client, so even though I know it’s rude—”
“It’s fine.”
I shrugged.
I wasn’t about to jeopardize this man’s livelihood just to gather a bit of information.
Relieved, McMurrin’s face lit up.
“Thank you so much! You’re very gracious. Ah, that reminds me…”
He gestured to the young man behind the counter.
“This is Simon, who watches the shop when I’m out. He actually knows more about ‘moving statues’ than I do. Would you mind speaking with him?”
I turned to look at the young man.
His clothes are shabby, but…
Only now did I realize—he was strikingly handsome, to the point where it felt odd for him to be working behind a counter like this.
Why was it?
Though we had never met before, I felt a strange sense of familiarity.
At the same time, a mysterious sense of unease crept up from deep inside my chest.
