Chapter 220
Benedict had frequently come to see Rubens after reading news about Macy fleeing on suspicion of arson.
He pressured Rubens about the truth of the statements and quickly suspected Rubens was hiding Macy. Rubens naturally denied everything as ridiculous.
Benedict then declared he’d clear Macy’s name and stormed out of the mansion.
And now, he was here again.
“Have you found any convincing evidence?”
“No, but I have something to say.”
“Then I’ll listen next time. I’m not feeling well now—”
“You need to hear it now.”
Benedict interrupted Rubens firmly.
“If not now, I don’t think I’ll want to say it ever again… Please make time, Duke.”
His expression was quite earnest.
‘What could be so important?’
To be honest, Rubens wasn’t keen to hear whatever Benedict had to say, desperate or not. It was probably about Macy.
The information Benedict had would likely be false or already known to Rubens.
Otherwise, Benedict might confess to having an affair with Rubens’s mistress, stirring up the dirty feelings Rubens had almost forgotten.
“…Very well, just a moment.”
“Thank you, Duke Krygen!”
For some reason, Rubens gave in and allowed it.
‘Is it that useless possessiveness still lingering?’
A hollow chuckle escaped Rubens’s teeth. He followed Benedict to his bedroom, where a familiar-sized canvas awaited. Wrapped in brown paper, it was the painting Macy had taken as a pretext to meet Benedict on the day of the wildfire.
‘So this is the big news? Just a painting?’
Rubens was barely able to stand the sight, and had ordered Morgan to destroy it. That it was now in Benedict’s hands was maddening and disappointing.
A mere painting. He stood, enduring a pounding headache, intending to look briefly and leave.
“How is it?”
Oblivious to Rubens’s thoughts, Benedict eagerly unwrapped the canvas and showed the painting.
“Well done.”
“Is that all?”
“What else would you expect? It’s well known that Macy is the best painter in Laden.”
Benedict’s eyes briefly furrowed in frustration. A short, exasperated sigh escaped.
“Look closely. See what Macy painted.”
Rubens had consciously tried to distance himself from thoughts of Macy since she disappeared. She would return eventually, and dwelling on memories was pointless.
But Benedict spoke as if the painting held some secret only he and Macy knew, which twisted Rubens’s stomach.
The way he treasured it and lectured him to properly look at it was infuriating.
So, with the urge to see what mischief the two had gotten up to in the carriage, Rubens leaned closer to examine the painting.
It depicted a familiar scene—one Rubens himself had been present at.
Centered on the Romanci Bridge, the foreground showed bustling commoners and merchants enjoying the Spring Festival.
Nobles were boating on the river. Macy must have been deeply moved by the festival to paint it again.
The portrait revealed previously hidden brushwork that enhanced the atmosphere, and the people added vitality to the landscape.
It was so vivid it felt as though the noisy voices surrounded his ears.
Macy’s emotions and skills, accumulated after coming into the world, had clearly evolved positively.
Yes. It was a far superior work compared to the countless paintings signed by Yannick Horton.
An excellent piece. It would be worthy even to be submitted to the imperial court.
‘So what?’
Benedict likely wasn’t showing Rubens this just to inform him of Macy’s skill.
Rubens slowly scanned the painting again. It was crowded with people as a festival would be. The Romanci Bridge was in the distance so the figures were drawn small.
Seeing it reminded Rubens of a past memory: Macy, wearing a wide-brimmed hat adorned with fresh flowers, watching over him at the Spring Festival.
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