Chapter 20. I’m Not an Orphan
Every time the train stopped at a station, Liri gripped the worn trunk, tied tightly with cords, as if she could keep it from falling apart.
Through the window, she saw a group of gentlemen disembarking—men in neat suits and hats, all looking impeccably polished.
Liri absentmindedly reached into her pocket and touched a crinkling piece of paper.
Usually, worthless things like laundry receipts or grocery IOUs rolled around in her pockets, and she had thought to just discard it.
But what came out this time was not a thin, rough slip of paper—it was a thick, soft note with neatly folded corners.
Only then did Liri realize that it was another note delivered by the maid.
[We met in Act 1. —Room 301.]
The handwriting was beautiful—elegant and forceful, just like its owner.
The line was from a famous love poem, one that lovers exchanging letters might know.
It was likely intended to scold Liri for missing their appointed time and to apologize for the incident at the pond. But even so, it was a love poem.
If someone else had seen it, Liri might have been misunderstood.
“Are letters or telegrams being censored? Is that why the guest in Room 301 sent a note instead?”
The image of his deep gray eyes, his elegant jaw, and his large hands tapping the verse came unbidden to her mind.
Liri tried not to think of him and imagined the play at the Rotunda Hall. She pictured the luxurious golden decorations, the soft silks, and real props—swords and such—moving on the stage instead of paper replicas.
In the rattling, ominous train, that small fantasy brought her a little comfort.
After a grueling six hours, Liri finally arrived at East Longfell.
“Mother Superior!”
“Welcome, Liri.”
Rushing into the convent, Liri found the nun lying on her bed.
“You’ve lost some weight.”
“I was worried because I heard you were very ill. Are you feeling okay? Where does it hurt?”
The nun smiled faintly at her nonstop questions.
“What brings you all the way here? You must have been worried for nothing. I’m fine now.”
Sister Volina repeatedly reassured Liri that she was okay.
“Lying down like this and saying you’re fine…”
Liri couldn’t relax, carefully watching the nun as she spoke. Still, the nun seemed to regain her energy quickly upon seeing her.
She even listened as Liri recited the play script she had memorized. Liri read aloud letters that had arrived at the convent, took down the nun’s words, and helped write replies.
“Tomorrow, let’s go together to the city hospital. You’ll feel much better there.”
To leave no room for objection, Liri picked the first noticeable name among the pile of letters.
“Oh, Mother Superior! It’s a letter from Rose!”
Liri’s face flushed as if she had just finished a sprint. Even Sister Volina, who had been saddened by losing contact with Rose after her adoption, brightened.
“My goodness, what does it say? I didn’t even know the letter had arrived.”
Sister Volina made the sign of the cross, said a brief prayer of thanks, and then asked.
“Hmm… Rose says it’s been a month since she arrived in Londinium. She’s been so busy that she’s only just writing now.”
Liri read the letter aloud:
“Mother Superior, I… am debuting in society… little Rose! I can’t believe it.”
With each line, Liri added little interjections. When she finished reading, flushed and slightly tearful, she gently wiped her eyes.
[I always think of you with love, Mother Superior, and of Saint Margarita with longing. When I return to Londinium, I will visit Sister Liri.]
“Mother Superior, it feels like Rose suddenly became an adult.”
“Yes, Liri. Everyone grows up like this. I thought only I was helplessly aging.”
Liri thought the nun’s small shoulders looked unusually delicate.
“Oh, Liri. Look at me. I meant to give you something when you came, but I completely forgot. My mind… Would you open the wooden box I left downstairs? I’ve finally organized everything.”
The wooden box, almost the size of Liri herself, resembled a heavy cabinet with six drawers.
Inside each drawer were half coins, necklaces, rusty rings, watches, all carefully labeled.
“What on earth is all this?”
“These were left at the convent when children were entrusted to us. Like the necklace you wear. But few came to retrieve them.”
They looked like trifles or playthings a young boy might pick up on the street.
Yet to Liri, they were more precious than any holy treasure, and she examined them carefully.
How heart-wrenching it must have been for parents to mark these items for their children.
“Look, Liri, we even found your letters.”
Trembling, Liri rummaged through the bottom drawer, among piles of documents and letters.
“These… are the letters I held onto…”
She had sometimes imagined her parents’ handwriting. Her first encounter with her mother’s letter was shaky, the ink smudged from water.
[As soon as the situation settles, I will come for Elizabeth. In the meantime… please take care of her. Elizabeth is gentle and cheerful… enclosed is…]
Though some words were blurred and illegible from water damage, the meaning was mostly clear.
The only discernible letter from the signature was ‘M.’ Marie? Margaret? Mason?
She could not even know her parents’ full names.
Liri ran her fingers over the paper. After twenty years, it felt fragile enough to crumble.
The letter was written on scrap paper, urgently, in haste. She wanted to learn everything she could—these were the last traces her parents had left.
Holding it up to the sunlight, she saw faintly typed text, barely readable even though the typewriter ribbon seemed dry.
“Maurice bank account…”
It didn’t seem important, but to Liri, even that was precious—a trace left by her mother.
“Thank you for finding it. I was a gentle, cheerful baby, weren’t I?”
Liri hugged the letter to her chest. Though it held no warmth, it felt comforting nonetheless.
‘Mom didn’t abandon me.’
It was a sign—a revelation that she no longer needed to live as someone who just waited.
Sister Volina silently kissed Liri on the forehead.
“Mother must have had a very difficult reason to leave me here, right?”
“No parent would ever want to abandon a child as lovely as you.”
At those words, Liri embraced the nun.
“Mother Superior, can you see this clearly? Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?”
“Sometimes my glasses blur, like they’re smeared with butter.”
The doctor scribbled indecipherable words on paper, appearing deep in thought. Liri sat a bit away, anxiously waiting for his answer.
“Mother Superior, could you stay in the next room? Warm herbal steam for your eyes will relieve some fatigue.”
The doctor indicated the room connected to the clinic. Volina rose but staggered slightly. Liri quickly caught her arm, but she waved her off.
“The dizziness is from the bright light.”
The doctor said to Liri in a serious tone:
“Is there anyone to care for Mother Superior?”
Clutching her skirt, Liri asked,
“Is it that serious?”
“Not yet. But if left untreated, her eyesight will continue to deteriorate—from small print to eventually being unable to read even shop signs.”
“Is there no way to fix it?”
“I’ll prescribe eye drops. If used daily, her vision won’t worsen. That’s all that’s possible in this rural area.”
The doctor added gravely to the pale, anxious Liri:
“It seems more like a consequence of her accident than a purely eye problem. I heard she suffered a severe head injury.”
“Could it be fixed in Londinium?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but if you plan to seek better treatment in Londinium, I’ll provide detailed documentation of her condition.”
The nun, waiting outside the hospital door, asked calmly:
“Liri, what did the doctor say?”
“He said the drops will help, but she shouldn’t move around too much.”
“What’s there to move at this age?”
Seeing Volina’s displeased expression, Liri spoke gently, as if calming a child:
“The doctor said there’s a good specialist in Londinium, so surgery might be a good option.”
Liri said nothing about the carriage accident. Mentioning Sister Brigida would only hurt them both.
“The donations have decreased since we came here. People prefer supporting the orphans in the capital.”
Once donations stopped, they didn’t return. Considering the convent’s dire finances, surgery costs were astronomical. Sister Volina could not spend donations on herself.
“Mother Superior, I’ll check the surgery costs in Londinium. Don’t say you won’t do it. I’ll find a way.”
Though Liri tried to speak casually, her heart was heavy.
How much money would be needed for the nun’s eye surgery?
Even if the hotel paid relatively well, she could barely afford to place an ad to find her parents. Now, thinking of the surgery costs, she would have to tighten her belt even further.
‘They give extra pay for overtime, but few are willing…’
Liri squeezed her eyes shut, recalling Summer’s words. She was already exhausted, but if more money was needed…
“Don’t worry about me. The drops make the dizziness better immediately.”
Sensing Liri’s concern, the nun clasped her hands together to soothe her. Liri forced a smile but could not completely dispel her worry.
