Please Forget Me - Chapter 340

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

I searched for the old letters he’d supposedly sent me, but all I found were typewritten notes or ones penned by secretaries.

‘How do you spend ten years with your fiance without writing her even a single letter in your own hand?’

I was the sort of person who carefully kept even letters from my classmates at boarding school. There was no way I wouldn’t have saved letters from a lover.

‘He must have avoided writing on purpose, so his handwriting wouldn’t give him away.’

The circumstantial evidence was strong, but I still lacked proof. I was on my way to the Marquis’s residence to obtain that proof and erase even the smallest doubt.

‘I’ll confirm it, and whatever the result, I’ll run right after.’

Run where?

I didn’t know that myself. I had no idea where Killian lived.

I was running away with absolutely no plan. But what would thinking harder accomplish? A plan that didn’t exist today wouldn’t magically appear tomorrow. If I waited for one, I’d never leave that house at all.

‘They said Father Ackroyd and the Ackroyd family are famous. If I go to the train station and grab anyone, won’t someone be able to tell me where he is?’

Inside the carriage racing toward the Marquis’s estate, I clutched the handle of the leather bag on my lap. Everything I owned was in there.

The letters. The school uniform pin. My portrait. And even the clothes he’d bought me.

I still couldn’t be completely sure of the truth, yet I couldn’t leave his gifts behind. For the same reason I hadn’t thrown them away before.

The hat that wouldn’t fit in the bag I wore on my head, and the heavy shoes I put on despite myself. It felt wasteful to use them already, but I couldn’t exactly carry their boxes out with me.

“What’s in that bag?”

Just as I was leaving, Grandmother eyed the large bag suspiciously, too big for a simple outing.

“I might stay out for the night….”

That excuse was enough. Had it been a box, she’d never have let it go.

This was my second escape, after Eisenthal. I knew well enough that money mattered when you ran.

Securing funds had been difficult. I couldn’t leave the house freely, and asking for money would only raise suspicion.

Fortunately, there was a small sum in my safe. I scraped that together. If it wasn’t enough, I could always pawn the jewelry I wore for appearances, or even the wedding ring I’d forced onto my finger.

‘For something thrown together in a hurry, this isn’t bad…’

And yet my anxiety wouldn’t settle. Without realizing it, I pressed at the skin beside my nail, already torn raw from picking.

‘God, please let me get away safely.’

And let me meet Killian by tomorrow, at the latest.

“Miss Lov—ah, Madam. We weren’t informed that you would be visiting….”

The butler of the Marquis’s estate reacted exactly as expected.

“Do I need to give notice when I come to my own home?”

“…Of course not. Please forgive my rudeness. Welcome.”

The excuse that worked on Grandmother worked just as well on the Marquis’s butler.

“The Marquis is currently out.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Perfect timing.

“Shall I inform him that you’re here?”

“No, there’s no need. He’s busy, I wouldn’t summon him.”

I said I’d wait and look around the estate.

“I’ll show you around.”

He didn’t let me wander on my own. Has he been told something about me? Or was this simply how things were done here?

“Which room does the Marquis usually use?”

“His bedchamber is this way.”

I hadn’t asked about his bedroom, but there was no point stirring suspicion. I followed quietly, pretending to admire the place. I searched discreetly as we went, but there wasn’t even a single scribbled note to be found.

“I’d like to see where he works.”

“The study can only be opened with the Marquis’s permission.”

“I’m his wife. This is my home. Why would I need permission?”

“I’m very sorry, but those are the Marquis’s orders. Please speak to him directly.”

Even pulling rank as Marchioness didn’t work this time.

‘There’s a standing order not to let anyone in? That just makes it more suspicious.’

I toured room after room with the butler, but nowhere did I find a trace of his handwriting.

“Are you not tired? I’ve had refreshments prepared upstairs. Please rest.”

The butler left me in a second-floor sitting room and disappeared.

‘I need to try the study door.’

It might not be locked. I pretended to sit and rest, waited until the maid finished setting out the tea and left, then slipped quietly into the corridor.

“Madam, do you need anything?”

The moment I stepped out, I ran straight into a maid standing guard in the hallway.

“Where’s the washroom?”

“I’ll show you.”

After visiting a washroom I hadn’t needed in the first place, the maid continued to follow me, like a watchful shadow. My unease deepened.

‘I think they know exactly why I’m here. Then they must have contacted him already. I should leave before he arrives and things get complicated.’

If I was caught by the Marquis while trying to confirm the truth, escaping would become far more difficult. I returned to the sitting room, picked up the bag and hat I’d left by the sofa, and turned to go.

“Why are you here?”

The Marquis walked into the sitting room.