CWMBR 146

Chapter 146

***

Sponsored by Elisa. Thank you ❤️(2/10)

***

Gilum smiled bitterly, but Bridget shifted her gaze as if she hadn't noticed anything.

"I'll send Wayna over. She’s probably waiting outside."

"No. That really isn't necessary."

Gilum’s expression hardened even more than when she offered to introduce him to Richard. He glanced toward Bridget's office.

"If you're leaving for the day, Wayna will see you out."

She told Richard she had work left to do, but in truth, she didn't. Bridget discreetly checked her pocket watch.

It was indeed about time to head home. She no longer personally locked up the Grand Theater; she left around dinnertime these days. And Gilum knew Bridget's departure time well.

It was only downstairs, after all... But refusing this request too seemed too cold-hearted. He had come all the way from the capital to Glynford. It pricked her conscience to repeatedly be cold to the man before her who traveled this considerable distance. Even if he chose this hardship himself.

Bridget shrugged.

"I'll just grab my coat."

Wayna, who had little interest in the play, usually waited in the staff lounge set aside for them on the first floor. She was generally free to move about after Bridget arrived at the Grand Theater, but when she reached the lounge with Gilum, Wayna wasn't there.

When she asked the staff member who had been with Wayna, she was told she'd gone to fetch the coachman. As always, she'd gone out to check the carriage's interior before leaving work. Rather than wait for Wayna inside the Grand Theater, Bridget decided to go out to the entrance. And there, she spotted someone who hadn't yet departed.

"Mrs. Callaway?"

"Ah."

Bridget's eyes widened when she spotted the woman standing before the ornate carriage, listening intently to Etrin's quiet words.

"You haven't left yet."

"I met a familiar face and stopped to chat."

Etrin quickly finished her sentence and stepped back. Mrs. Callaway saw Bridget approaching her, then turned her gaze to the person standing beside her. Gilum, meeting Mrs. Callaway's eyes, smiled and greeted her. Even without a close relationship, they were acquaintances who recognized each other's faces; he couldn't very well pretend not to see her.

Noticing a hint of reluctance in Gilum’s expression, Mrs. Callaway murmured with a sneer.

"The virtue of youth is its tenacity, after all."

Mrs. Callaway rubbed her chin thoughtfully for a moment before nodding.

"Gilum... well, your future isn't bad. I heard you’ve achieved outstanding results again this time."

"Thank you for your interest in my recent affairs."

For a thank you, it wasn't exactly a happy expression. Rather, he seemed slightly uncomfortable, and the seasoned Mrs. Callaway couldn't fail to notice this. Moreover, she knew exactly why her companion felt uncomfortable around her. But what could she do? Gilum wasn't the type to openly confront Mrs. Callaway about his discomfort. That was precisely why he'd been hovering around her for years.

Mrs. Callaway smiled faintly. Her frequent visits to Glynford weren't solely for the art. While the art was the primary reason, Glynford was also a rather interesting place for the stories unfolding offstage. And Mrs. Callaway was quite happy to observe the vibrant youthfulness of the young people firsthand. Frankly, it was quite entertaining in her twilight years.

Even more dramatic elements had been added to the story she was watching just moments ago. Mrs. Callaway intended to continue visiting Glynford with pleasure for the foreseeable future.

"But what can one do? Even when choosing, one finds such formidable opponents."

Seeing the mischievous expression on Mrs. Callaway's face, Bridget calmly smiled and interjected.

"Mrs. Callaway. It seems you haven't quite shaken off the play's afterglow. You're too engrossed in the love story."

Mrs. Callaway narrowed her eyes and gave Gilum a pointed look, as if to say, 'See?'

"See? She’s no pushover, is she?"

Gilum sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, while Bridget continued to smile faintly, her expression still blank as if she hadn't heard a word. Mrs. Callaway quickly resumed her disinterested look and turned toward Etrin, who was waiting for her.

"Well, I'll be off now. You young people have fun together."

Of course, there was no such thing as the young people having fun together.

Gilum did as he said, dropping Wayna off and then politely excusing himself. The strange thing was, Wayna—who would normally have shot Gilum a pitying look and said something—was oddly quiet. Seeing her deep in thought, Bridget gently spoke up.

"Wayna, is something wrong?"

Wayna snapped back to reality at the question and scratched the back of her head.

"Uh, I thought I saw a familiar face. But it was too dark, and I only caught a glimpse, so I couldn't be sure."

Wayna's gaze drifted toward the dark night street. Bridget followed her line of sight.

It was the direction Mrs. Callaway's carriage had been parked.

Bridget blinked slowly, then turned away first.

"Let's go back."

* **

Visiting Pastore Cemetery every early morning was a daily routine. So, in front of the three graves where today should have been the same scene as always, Bridget stopped in her tracks upon noticing something different from yesterday.

"Huh? Who…………….."

Wayna, who clocked in at the cemetery alongside Bridget, looked at the chrysanthemums placed before the graves with a look of wonder. There was no one else but Bridget who would place the same flowers there.

Unlike Wayna, whose eyes widened, Bridget remained calm. Perhaps she had already guessed something.

Rolling up her sleeves, Bridget crouched down to examine the flower bed.

"Hey, could you close the aperture a bit?"

Except for the three chrysanthemums, it was the start of a day just like any other.

***

Today was the day of her lunch appointment. Accepting Eris's invitation, she was to enjoy a luncheon in the conservatory of her mansion. And her interest, as someone steadily active in the local social scene including Glynford, was undoubtedly Mrs. Callaway, one of the social scene's heavyweights.

"I hear the play is getting great reviews? I heard Mrs. Callaway attended."

Bridget smiled faintly at the name, which Eris flashed out eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

"She visited quietly last night. I suppose word spread quickly."

"How surprising."

Eris pursed her lips. Bridget regarded her with a look of wonder.

After three years of observing Eris—who, despite news traveling that fast, never once made a deliberate attempt to cross paths with Mrs. Callaway—wouldn’t anyone find it remarkable? Though she kept her ear to the ground for society’s various tidings, upon closer observation, Eris never went so far as to actively dive in and expand her connections. Perhaps she was simply interested in the diverse tales of society, without any goal of securing a particular standing within it.

In any case, thanks to Eris, Bridget often heard news from the central social circle she would never otherwise encounter. Some of these tidbits were genuinely intriguing, and occasionally, she felt she understood a little of why Eris paid such close attention to others' affairs.

"Can't make it to this month's gathering?"

"I can't make the gathering, but I'll definitely attend the birthday party."

Eris replied to Bridget's words with feigned curtness.

"The guest list isn't even finalized yet."

"You'll invite me, won't you?"

"That's true."

Bridget smiled at Eris, who muttered grumpily and nodded.

Even though this friendship had been half-forced upon her, leaving her unsure if it was normal, having someone to talk to freely was a refreshing change for Bridget. Perhaps because she felt she'd already shown her worst side, Eris didn't feel the need to maintain aristocratic decorum around Bridget, and Bridget, in turn, didn't nitpick or treat her with excessive formality. It was a surprisingly comfortable relationship.

"So, Bridget, did you see the newspaper?"

As she stabbed her fork into the salad, Eris asked in a subtle voice. Bridget answered calmly.

"Yes."

"Really? You saw it and you're so calm? If it were me, I'd be running around telling the whole neighborhood!"

Eris looked at Bridget with disbelief. Instead of responding, Bridget chewed her salad.

"The golden myth of the Wise family has crumbled."

Bridget continued eating with an unflappable expression. Eris was flabbergasted by her composure, as if listening to someone else's story. Yet, she couldn't help but grin, seeming secretly pleased.

"This is a world set right. I feel so relieved inside. When I heard my ex-husband's business went completely bust and he was running around borrowing money, I partied all night celebrating, didn't I?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Aren't you going to, Bridget? Shall I throw one for you instead?"

She seemed ready to spread the news all over town and throw a raucous party if needed. Bridget chuckled softly and shook her head lightly.

"It's fine."

"Just let me know whenever you want to throw one. I'll pull out all the stops with my connections."

Bridget had always felt her approach to problems was rather extreme, but at least there was no malice behind Eris saying such things. In fact, Eris felt quite affectionate toward Bridget, and her sense of satisfaction at the news of the Wise family's investment failure was clearly a pure reaction. Having gotten to know Eris somewhat through their interactions, Bridget understood her offer was genuine goodwill.

"Thank you."