Certainly, what must be refused · 13. May 2025

CWMBR 19

Chapter 19

***

"What?"

Why did Glynford come out of nowhere?

Declan looked at Ain with that question in his eyes. Ain spoke in a nonchalant tone.

"You said my wife's wishes were important in this case."

"..................Yes, it does."

"Why wait until she's represented by counsel, you can ask her directly."

Then why did you hire me?

Declan barely swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile.

There was no reason to visit the town of Glynford. If so, it was purely to meet with Mrs. Wise, and frankly, in a case of this nature-an action to annul a marriage, even in history-it was not often that the two clients met. There was usually no reason for them to meet because their relationship was already broken. Unless it was for a truly essential legal process, they were usually represented.

Wasn’t that what lawyers were hired to do in the first place?

"No."

Declan pursed his lips and ran his hand through his neatly combed hair. He was increasingly confused as to whether he was even trying to win this case. His client's demeanor was not that of someone who wanted to have his marriage annulled, to say the least.

"You're in a very strange place right now. Do you realize that?"

"I know."

Ain replied nonchalantly.

"Irrational and inefficient."

He tossed the papers he was holding onto the table and spat out the words like a sigh.

"I know."

Ain knew better than anyone else that he was out of his mind. How could he not know? It wouldn't be the first time.

***

The long rain, which she thought would end soon, lasted longer than she expected.

After a few days of rain, when the downpour eased a bit, Bridget left the monastery with an umbrella. She wanted to visit her parents' gravesite, which she hadn't visited on her first day here because she wanted to rest.

The cemetery was located at the back of the monastery, a short walk up a hill. After passing through the iron gate that was always open, she could see a long dirt path in the center with jagged tombstones standing on either side in different shapes, which gave the cemetery an eerie atmosphere. It was drizzling with rain. Bridget held her umbrella in one hand and her skirt in the other. The path was muddy from days of rain.

There were stones to step on, but they were of little use.

But she was desperate to find the cemetery today, because she didn't know when the rain would pick up again. The rainy season's skies were fickle and mean, and they had a way of ruining your day when you least expect it.

She walked cautiously inside and stopped in front of a familiar headstone. Her heart sank as she recognized the two names carved into the stone.

"Father, Mother."

She didn't say more. She had so many things she wanted to say before she came, but now that she stood in front of the tombstone, her mind went blank. Hesitantly, she knelt down, leaning the long umbrella pole over her shoulder. The hem of her skirt was stained with mud, but she paid it no mind.

"Ah, flowers."

It was only then that Bridget realized she'd come empty-handed.

The abbey always kept a few chrysanthemums on hand, as it maintained the cemetery. She should have gotten some, even if they were wilting.

"I'm sorry.................but you'll understand, won't you?"

Her parents had raised her to be pretty and dainty. They encouraged her to keep going, to do it right the next time, to get back up when she fell, to not be afraid because they were behind her, and to not be afraid to keep going.

What they didn't tell her was that sometimes she could lose everything with just one mistake. They didn't teach her that sometimes when you fall, you don't get back up.

Crouching down, Bridget touched the dirt. There were a few weeds growing, but it looked like it had been properly maintained. It wasn't a bad choice to make a grave for her parents here. Then, couldn't she make one for her child too?

Bridget's gaze shifted to the side of the two graves. The large remaining space was actually the one she had in mind for herself, but wouldn't it be better to give it to the child? Who would take care of the child's memorial if not her?

Beyond her emotional thoughts, a cold voice of reason spoke up. What was the point of a grave when all that had trickled down between her legs was a little clotted blood? What right did she have to continue to miss a child she hadn't held in her arms, who hadn't even grown properly in her womb? How could she be so greedy about something she'd lost after only a few months?

Bridget gripped the handle of her umbrella tighter.

Yes, this is greed.

As she thought to herself, she heard footsteps behind her.

Frozen, Bridget hesitated for a moment, then slowly turned around. Someone was coming this way, the long legs picking out the stones as they went, and she saw a servant running after him, the umbrella held high in the air.

As the man got closer, she could see the bunch of white chrysanthemums he was carrying. The large, luxurious blooms were obviously not from the monastery.

"Miss Pennington."

He smiled at her in a pleased manner and stepped quickly toward Bridget. It was Finn Emerson, impeccably dressed in a black suit.

"I see you're here."

His gaze fell on the headstone behind Bridget.

"Are your parents buried here?"

Bridget let out a shallow sigh at the way he asked like he didn't know.

"You didn't come here knowing?"

"Of course not, I'm here because I have someone to memorialize."

Bridget wasn't naïve enough to believe his naturally virtuous response. Most of the people buried in this cemetery were locals with ties to Glynford. Finn had only visited Glynford for the first time when he'd been given a tour of the city by Bridget. To create a memorial in that short time with such a huge bouquet of flowers? It would have been at least less offensive to say he'd come to see her.

"But since it's fate that we've met, I'd like to dedicate these chrysanthemums to your parents."

"No, thank you."

Finn wasn't surprised by Bridget's immediate refusal. He probably knew he would be rejected. He had been rejected by her countless times in the past, and now he didn't bat an eye at the rejection spat out to his face.

But Bridget was not immune. As he stood shamelessly in her way, she smoothed the hem of her skirt.

"If you've come to pay your respects, go ahead. I must return to my work."

"Don't you think you're being too harsh?"

Finn asked bitterly. He stood there on the stone, unwilling to move out of the way. If she wanted to get past him, she had to step on the muddy ground, which was dotted with puddles.

Bridget checked the ground and swallowed a sigh. He didn’t think she was going to leave because she didn't want to step in the mud.

Her skirt, shoes, and everything else was already soiled.

She started to take a casual step forward, but suddenly stopped. Finn's eyes lit up at the sight of her still staring at him. It seemed she had finally decided to deal with him properly.

"Mr. Emerson."

The voice came out of her parched lips, somewhat gravelly, but as clear as her green eyes as they met his.

"The Grand Theater is not for sale."

The corners of Finn's mouth twitched downward from the cheerful smile he'd been wearing the entire time. With the smile half gone, the man's face looked natural.

"There is some misunderstanding, I suppose," he said, "you think I have come to see Miss Pennington about the theater?"

Of course, she thought, that was his ultimate purpose.

Of course, she wouldn't rule out the possibility that he had some sort of 'sexual attraction' to her. But sexual attraction was not a factor of much value to that Finn Emerson, especially when you consider all the beautiful women he pursued.

She didn’t claim to know everything about his personal life, but she could get a good idea from the newspapers just how much he was rumored to be in love with the finest ladies. Not to mention, he was a man who took his popularity as a kind of bragging rights. Even if he did feel a sexual attraction to Bridget, it was likely to be a very mild curiosity.

Glynford Grand Theater, on the other hand. The name of the theater, which had endured throughout Glynford's history, was the only thing she owned that was worth coveting. In the past, Finn had wanted to "own" the theater, and had approached Bridget as a means to that end.