52.
Russell arrived just in time for the end of the workday. It was fortunate for him that he hadn’t known Isabel had been on vacation all this time.
Isabel carefully studied the man’s face, dark shadows under his eyes.
The man who was the Crown Prince’s aide. He claimed he wasn’t a noble, yet he was the nephew of Viscount McDowell and Baroness Walker.
Coincidentally, both men who had once courted Isabel had been deceitful in their own ways.
If you wanted to distinguish them, Hector had deceived outright, while Russell concealed the truth. Either way, both of them would soon be leaving Shudehill.
“You must be busy preparing to return to Pencombe.”
“A little.”
Even at Russell’s stiffer-than-usual tone, Isabel answered in her usual bright voice.
“I’m busy too, so could I hear what you want to say on the way to the station?”
Without waiting for his reply, Isabel started walking in the direction of the station. Russell followed without showing much expression.
The air had grown much colder, and Isabel slipped her hands into her coat pockets.
Her footsteps clicked briskly on the cobblestones, while Russell’s echoed heavily beside her in the quiet street.
They walked for quite a while, and even as the station came into view, Russell remained silent.
“Didn’t you have something you wanted to say?”
“I think today will be the last time we meet.”
Isabel touched her nose, stinging from the cold.
“Yes.”
“It’s not because I’m going back to Pencombe.”
“Yes.”
“I was dispatched here thinking Hector hadn’t recognized me, but… he already knew who I was.”
Isabel turned toward him as if asking what he meant.
“He approached you because of me.”
Russell’s broad shoulders, always dependable, looked suddenly small. Truly, what a damned man Hector was.
Isabel had spent sleepless nights tormented by the thought that Claire had suffered because of her.
Meanwhile, Russell had been preparing to sever ties with Isabel, believing Claire had suffered because of him.
Something welled up in Isabel’s chest.
“I see. Well then, goodbye.”
Leaving Russell behind, she walked straight toward the station.
The first division of the police, including Harry and Lacey, along with several officers, were assigned to escort Hector Parker’s transfer.
When the carriage pulled up in front of the station, reporters were already waiting, somehow informed of his arrival.
Since they couldn’t drive the carriage directly inside, they had no choice but to unload him at the entrance.
As soon as the reporters spotted the uniforms, they swarmed. Harry and two officers pushed forward to carve a path.
“Step aside, make way!”
Two officers tightly held Hector, shackled at the wrists, as they followed the path Harry opened.
Lacey and another officer guarded from behind in case of any incident.
Though limping on his right leg, Hector walked briskly enough that Lacey kept a sharp eye out for an escape attempt.
“Why did you come to Shudehill in the first place?”
Through the din of the reporters came the question, and Hector smirked on one side of his mouth.
“Because that day, the fastest train happened to end at Shudehill.”
The taunting tone and trivial excuse made Harry, who was leading the way, pause in his steps.
Sensing something, Lacey shouted,
“Don’t—!”
But Harry didn’t blink, and rammed his elbow into Hector’s chest.
“Ugh!”
Hearing Hector groan, Lacey pressed his forehead in frustration. Of all places, in front of this many reporters.
Harry masked his satisfaction, glanced around, and searched for the Pencombe-bound train.
“There it is.”
The officers prodded the coughing Hector forward, urging him toward the train.
Inside the reserved carriage stood Clive, already seated.
“Good day, Captain.”
Harry looked as cheerful as if he were going on a trip. Clive, puzzled, locked eyes with Hector as he boarded.
“Good day, Captain!”
Imitating Harry’s greeting earned Hector a punch across the nose.
“Come on, Deputy Chief!”
Lacey scolded Harry while mopping Hector’s nosebleed with a handkerchief.
There he goes again, Clive thought, but for Russell, it was the first time seeing Harry like this.
“You’re quite the fiery one,” he muttered.
Clive gave him a sharp look, and Russell turned his head away.
Outside the window, officers held back the reporters. Beyond the murmuring crowd, the station building was visible.
And there—Isabel’s upright back as she walked toward the station. So straight, so rigid… that he wanted to embrace her.
While Russell gazed out, Hector was seated in the middle row—furthest from both the front and rear exits.
The officers even shackled his legs.
Amidst their bustling, the bloodied handkerchief Lacey had given Hector slipped to the floor. Harry nudged it away with his foot and leaned closer.
“Those things over there.”
He pointed at the eagle statues and paintings, all wrapped in cloth as evidence.
“There’s no one in Shudehill rich enough to buy relics like those. Was this just a hobby?”
“Ah, those.”
Leaning back, Hector wiped his nose and confirmed the bleeding had stopped.
“I thought I might return to Pencombe. Since His Highness the First Prince became Crown Prince, I figured he’d be spending even more money.”
“Is that so?”
Before Lacey could stop him, Hector was already clutching his shin in pain from another well-aimed kick.
Lacey once again held his forehead, while Clive pretended not to see.
The earliest Pencombe-bound train with available seats was in two days—one day after Hector’s transfer.
Claire pulled out an old travel case that had belonged to her parents. Isabel dusted off the thick layer of white settled on it.
“I got two months’ vacation.”
“I got up to three.”
Brenda hadn’t set a fixed term—it was her way of being considerate, but it left Claire a little uncomfortable.
Fortunately, Drew assured them that up to three months wouldn’t leave any gaps in the calculations.
“Then should we stop by other places too?”
“Like where?”
Claire’s eyes sparkled—she had never been outside Shudehill. Isabel hadn’t either, so no particular place came to mind.
“Well, since we bought Pencombe tickets, let’s start there.”
But Claire’s excitement dimmed quickly.
“Do we have money?”
“Of course. Maybe not after the trip.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
Claire burst into laughter.
Yes, that’s the way—keep laughing.
Isabel packed clothes into the case, smiling at the sound of her sister’s laughter.
“Once we’re in Pencombe, we’ll buy a travel map.”
She spoke brightly, cheerfully.
“Then on the way to Furness, we’ll choose some cities to visit—sightsee, eat delicious food, and really rest.”
“Sounds good. I think it’ll be fun.”
“Me too.”
Feeling a little giddy, they finished packing neatly.
Time flew, and soon Claire and Isabel loaded their luggage—clothes and a few books—into the baggage compartment and settled into their seats.
For Claire, it was her first time leaving Shudehill, and without any fixed itinerary, the trip felt all the more thrilling.
She flinched when a gentleman’s hand brushed past in the aisle, but Isabel had already given her the window seat.
It was also her first train ride, so everything captivated her attention.
The train departed fifteen minutes late.
When it finally rumbled forward, Claire pressed her face to the window, unable to look away from the scenery rushing past.
Small houses, plum orchards, clouds like flocks of sheep in the blue sky. Ordinary things, yet she couldn’t stop staring.
“Want to nap? It’s a five-hour ride.”
“Later.”
Not the least bit sleepy, Claire turned from the window and glanced at the passengers nearby.
Two elderly women in front were dozing, while behind them a couple struggled to soothe their crying child.
“Sis.”
“Mm?”
“You know that rainy night, when we went to Lota Park?”
At the mention of the day of the accident, Isabel’s face tensed as she gripped Claire’s hand.
Claire squeezed back, soothed by the warmth.
“You said that man tried to stab Sir Clive in the back.”
“And then slipped in the rainwater, right?”
Claire waited until the conductor in the white uniform disappeared down the aisle before continuing.
“The truth is… something strange happened to me that day.”
“Strange? What do you mean?”
“Suddenly, the whole world stopped. Everything—except me. Even the falling raindrops froze.”
“What are you talking about?”
Seeing Isabel’s skeptical face, Claire pressed her lips together. She knew it sounded absurd, even to herself.
But there were no better words to explain it. She hadn’t understood it herself.
“I know it’s hard to believe. But it really happened. I was so shocked.”
“The whole world froze—people too, and the rain?”
Claire tugged at Isabel’s hand as her sister’s voice rose.
“Keep it down, someone might hear.”
Isabel lowered her body, glancing around.
“Could such a thing even happen?”
“It was my first time too.”
“Are you sure you weren’t so scared that you just imagined it?”
“Come on, believe me.”
“Well… it is a bit unbelievable, isn’t it? You admit that much?”
“What if I’m a magician?”
Claire’s serious face made Isabel let out a faint, uneasy laugh.
Maybe she really should sneak away those fantasy novels Claire kept in her luggage.
Isabel muttered thoughtfully,
“Magicians only exist in stories, don’t they?”
At that, Claire glanced at a man sitting diagonally in front of them and whispered,
“Hat, come off—hup!”
Of course, the man’s hat didn’t so much as twitch. Claire grinned mischievously.
“Guess I’m not a magician after all.”
Isabel let out a laugh that was half a sigh.
