Chapter 34
Eleanor hesitated, unsure how to react. Her hands, clasped tightly over her skirt, trembled without direction. As all eyes turned to her, her heart pounded with unease.
“Logan, is there something you want to say to Eleanor?”
When the gazes lingering on Eleanor didn’t waver, Cindy asked with a hint of curiosity. Logan opened his mouth, but no answer came easily.
“…Miss Hudson.”
And the moment Logan spoke, Eleanor felt her heart drop. Her eyes darted anxiously at the sudden blow, as if her heart had been struck directly. Each breath made her head throb.
This can’t be happening.
“Could we speak for a moment?”
“What is it you want to talk about?”
Eleanor asked, a bit too sharply. It wasn’t how one should speak to their employer, but her heart was trembling too much for her to notice.
Just then, with a metallic clatter, the front gate opened, and a car sped in. It was the Fitzman family’s car.
“Your Grace, Count and Countess Fitzman have—”
Before George could finish, Jane rushed out of the car and clutched Logan.
“Your Grace!”
“My lady!”
The Count hurried out after her, reaching out just in time to catch his wife.
“This isn’t true, right? Tell me this is a lie!”
“…Lady Fitzman.”
“Where is my son, where is Usher?”
Jane clung to Logan’s sleeve, her reddened eyes darting around, brimming with restrained tears.
“Tell me it was just a cruel joke. Even for a prank, this is too much.”
She begged tearfully, pleading for someone to tell her that it was a mischievous trick orchestrated by her playful son.
But Logan only looked at her with pity, saying nothing. Usher hadn’t returned.
Cindy, still not understanding the situation, quietly raised both hands to cover her mouth—otherwise, her astonished gasp might have spilled out before the gathered guests.
“Usher… our son couldn’t have… he couldn’t have died.”
“…”
“His name was never on the casualty list!”
Jane shouted in denial, stomping her foot. The Count embraced his wife and gently pulled her away from Logan. But a mother’s desperation would not so easily be severed. She clung to Logan’s sleeve until it tore before she let go.
“No, it can’t be true!”
“My lady, please calm yourself.”
“How can I? You’re telling me my son is dead! That Usher… that Usher is gone!”
Jane screamed, thrashing in despair. The elegant noblewoman was gone, leaving only a grieving mother. Eleanor stood frozen, watching the scene like a stranger. None of it felt real. The words, the actions—none of it.
“Your Grace, please… please…”
Jane wept bitterly, begging. Don’t let a mother be the first to learn of her child’s death. If this is real, it’s too cruel.
“My lady!”
And then, gasping for air, Jane lost consciousness. The Count caught her limp body, and Cindy hurried over in alarm.
“Darling, Jane…”
The Count gently tapped her cheek, calling out in desperation. Normally calm and composed, his anxious expression made clear just how afraid he was of losing his wife too.
“Take Lady Fitzman to the guest room.”
Logan ordered the staff. Flustered and unsure what to do, they snapped to attention and moved quickly. Cindy glanced at Logan for direction and helped guide Jane away.
“As for Count Fitzman and Miss Hudson…”
“…”
“I’d like to speak with you both for a moment.”
Once the other servants left with Jane, only Logan, Count Fitzman, and Eleanor remained at the entrance.
“Please follow me.”
Logan turned his back and walked ahead. The Count followed, and Eleanor trailed behind reluctantly, unable to think clearly as the unbelievable words continued to echo in her ears.
“Shall I get some tea—?”
“No need.”
The Count cut Logan off, his voice uncharacteristically firm.
“Tell me what happened to Usher.”
“…”
“You may speak freely.”
On the surface, the Count looked composed. But the faint trembling of his hands resting on his knees betrayed the storm of emotions inside.
Jane had cast off her dignity, and the Count now struggled to hide his unease. Together, their reactions made this nightmare feel real. Eleanor’s vision blurred.
“…Captain Usher Fitzman died on the day of the surprise air raid by the Louen royal forces.”
Logan began calmly, though his voice carried a grief he couldn’t conceal. At his words, the last flickers of hope inside both listeners faded.
“But the newspapers said there were no casualties…”
The Count spoke hesitantly, clinging to that final hope.
“They were mistaken. The evening edition will publish a correction, including Usher’s name.”
“Was… was the body recovered?”
The Count’s face twisted as he asked. Logan silently shook his head. He didn’t say that, in war, a missing body is sometimes kinder than confirmation.
“We waited, hoping he might still return…”
“…”
“But until the very last soldier returned to Reden, Usher never came back.”
All Logan could do was confirm that Usher had not returned—and never would. Saying it made his throat tighten and his jaw clench.
If the Count had lost his son, and Eleanor her lover, then Logan had lost a lifelong friend and comrade.
“This is all we found.”
Logan took something jangling out of his coat—a necklace, no, a dog tag. Eleanor, utterly unprepared, came face to face with the name engraved on it: Usher Fitzman. Proud and beloved.
“…”
The Count took the old tag with trembling hands.
“I came to… tell your wife…”
“Go to her.”
Logan cut him off mid-sentence. The Count stood up abruptly and left the office, so flustered he didn’t even notice when he banged into the table.
And the moment he stepped out and the door closed behind him, a sob burst from his lips.
It was that sound—the unmistakable, guttural cry of a man who had lost his child—that finally shattered Eleanor’s last denial. Her vision blurred instantly, and tears poured freely down her legs.
He’s dead?
Really?
“So come back safely.”
…
“I’ll be waiting.”
She had said that.
“Got it?”
She had asked again, wanting him to promise.
“I will.”
He had smiled so gently.
“Ah…”
You left me.
“Ugh… nghh.”
Left only me behind.
“How could you…”
Gone? How could you be?
“This… this can’t be…”
Eleanor muttered, twisting the fabric of her skirt in her lap. But despite her denial, the tears kept falling like a broken faucet, hot enough to burn her hands.
Her chest burned, her words failed. All that came out were guttural sobs.
“Maybe it’s better not to marry for your sake.”
Did you know something? Did you have a feeling you wouldn’t come back? If so, you shouldn’t have gone. Even if it was selfish, you shouldn’t have left me behind.
The unspoken resentment sank into her heart. Eleanor finally buried her face in her hands, her delicate shoulders trembling violently with sobs.
Logan didn’t offer any hollow words of comfort. He already knew—nothing anyone could say would soothe the loss of a loved one.
“Miss Hudson.”
His voice, barely uttered, sounded like rust scraping metal. Eleanor snapped out of her trance and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry. I… I’m so sorry.”
She hurriedly wiped her tears and sprang up, flailing in confusion, bumping into furniture like the Count had just done. She didn’t even notice the pain, gripping the office doorknob.
“Ugh… ngh…”
It seemed like she had left, but then came the sound of muffled sobbing from outside. A cry, choked and broken, tore through the hallway. A cry of anguish.
Logan stood from his seat and gently opened the door. Not far away, Eleanor had collapsed, clutching a windowsill at the top of the stairs. And at last, she let out a raw, unrestrained wail—childish and heart-wrenching.
Even Olivia wouldn’t cry like that anymore. This was the sound of pure, unfiltered grief.
Logan instinctively clenched the doorknob tighter. If he didn’t hold onto something, he might run to her and embrace her.
Her beautiful golden hair, shimmering as always, caught the sunlight spilling through the window. It gleamed with tragic brilliance.
Logan closed his eyes tightly. Peace had returned to the land, yes—but it was built upon countless lives and endless sorrow.
And the light that shone upon it all was unbearably bright.
