If I was Going to Regret It Anyway

“…Eleanor Townsend.”

 

Eleanor greeted with a somewhat confused mind.

 

“I think you might have been surprised to hear me say I wanted to see you so suddenly. I hope it wasn’t too much of an imposition.”

 

“Not at all. I was just feeling a bit lonely, so I’m glad you came.”

 

Wilson said with a smile.

 

The fact that Lewis Wilson wasn’t Daryl didn’t completely dispel her suspicions. There was still the possibility that Daryl had sent a representative in his stead.

 

“I heard from the village chief that Mr. Wilson had donated books, and I really wanted to meet you. It was a very generous and meaningful thing to do.”

 

“It’s embarrassing to hear you say that. It wasn’t anything significant.”

 

“No, it was significant. It looked like there were at least a few hundred books. I heard you haven’t been in Wembury long, did you bring all those books with you?”

 

“Yes. I had planned to donate them to the village from the beginning. I moved to a smaller house compared to where I used to live, so there was no room for books. It seemed a shame to throw them away, and I thought it would be more meaningful to donate them here rather than to a library in the capital.”

 

“…I see.”

 

There was nothing particularly inconsistent about the story, but it wasn’t entirely natural either. Of course, it could just be her feeling. Given the situation, it was not easy to judge whether her suspicions were rational.

 

“May I ask when you came to Wembury?”

 

“It’s been exactly a week today.”

 

“I believe you said you were in the capital before, may I ask why you came all the way here?”

 

“Actually, I retired recently. After living a busy life, I wanted to spend my remaining years in a peaceful place.”

 

“I see. What about your family…”

 

“My children live in the capital. My wife has passed away.”

 

At that, Eleanor looked down, seemingly taken aback.

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It’s been over ten years now.”

 

She realized she had bombarded a stranger with questions as if conducting an investigation. Even if she was suspicious because of Daryl, it was still impolite.

 

“I apologize for asking so many questions. Please forgive me.”

 

“It’s okay. It can happen.”

 

Wilson laughed it off as if it were nothing.

 

“Although it’s not quite the same, may I ask you one question in return?”

 

“Oh, yes. Please do.”

 

“Do you paint, Miss Townsend?”

 

Eleanor was momentarily surprised by Wilson’s question, but she responded without showing it.

 

“…Yes. That’s right.”

 

“I thought so.”

 

Wilson smiled broadly, as if pleased.

 

The fact that Marcus Miller’s identity was Eleanor had been widely publicized in the capital. It was only natural that Wilson, having lived in the capital, would know.

 

“I couldn’t help but ask, even though I know it’s impolite. It’s an honor to meet such a famous painter in person.”

 

“…Thank you.”

 

“I thought you were in the capital, did you come down here for your artwork?”

 

“No, I came down for a rest. Actually, I’m planning to take a sabbatical for a few years.”

 

“That’s good. Rest is important. I hope you rest well and create more wonderful works.”

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

Although they hadn’t known each other for long, Wilson seemed like a good person. He didn’t show any discomfort at Eleanor’s repeated rudeness, and even knowing who she was, he didn’t mention any sensitive or uncomfortable topics. Perhaps it was only natural for a gentleman, but the reality was that not many people were as considerate.

 

After spending tea time with Wilson, Eleanor left his mansion. Wilson bid her farewell, inviting her to visit again anytime.

 

In the end, Eleanor found no evidence that Daryl was behind Wilson, nor evidence to the contrary. But she decided to force herself to stop suspecting him.

 

Even if all of this was orchestrated by Daryl, as long as he didn’t reveal himself, it didn’t really matter. Regardless of his intentions, the establishment of the library was a good thing for the villagers. In that sense, it was different from the Loud House security incident.

 

Moreover, if all of this was just Eleanor’s misunderstanding, it would have been a great discourtesy to Wilson, who had done a good deed out of kindness.

 

“Let’s think about it again if a similar situation arises.”

 

That was the conclusion Eleanor came to.

 

****

 

It had been a few days since Eleanor met with Lewis Wilson. She received a letter from him.

 

[Miss Eleanor Townsend,

 

Thank you for your visit. I thoroughly enjoyed that day.

 

I hesitated to mention it at the time, fearing it might be rude, but the truth is, I have been a passionate fan of Marcus Miller for a long time.

 

I love all of Miss Townsend’s works, but I am particularly fond of one of the early pieces, ‘Morning Greeting.’ The robin sitting on the branch outside the window seems to be really greeting us, and it brings a smile to my face. I thought that a painter who could capture such loveliness must be a warm and kind person. Meeting you in person, I am convinced that I was right.

 

Wembury is a lovely place. Having spent some time here, I think I understand why you chose this place. I hope that your time in Wembury will be entirely peaceful and comfortable.

 

I tried to select a variety of genres for the books I donated to the library. If you feel like it, please go and read them. I hope you find a book to your liking.

 

I look forward to greeting you again on a fine day.

 

Lewis Wilson.]

 

It was a surprisingly warm letter. At first, Eleanor blushed unknowingly at the direct mention of her work, but she read it over and over again, as if enchanted. The content was that heartwarming.

 

With an uplifted heart, Eleanor picked up a pen and wrote a reply.

 

[To Mr. Wilson,

 

Thank you for your letter. Your kind words made me very happy. Thank you for your thoughts on my work. Having always worked under a pseudonym, I’ve only ever heard second-hand opinions about my work. The piece you mentioned is such an early work that I feel a bit embarrassed, but if there are people like you who smiled at that painting, then it was worth sharing with the world. Thank you once again for donating the books. As a resident of Wembury, I owe you a great debt. Thanks to you, I think I will be able to spend my time more enjoyable and less idly. I will take good care of your precious collection.

 

If it’s not too much trouble, I would love to have tea together again when the opportunity arises. If that’s not convenient, I’m happy to continue our conversation through letters.

 

With gratitude, E. L. Townsend.]

 

She deliberately waited a day before sending the letter, and a reply came back that very day.

 

[Miss Townsend,

 

I am delighted to hear that my letter brought you joy. It was a letter sent after much deliberation, and I’m glad I sent it.

 

If it’s alright with you, Miss Townsend, I would like to continue exchanging letters like this. It seems easier to write things down on paper that we may not be able to say face-to-face.

 

Please respond with the ease of writing a diary entry. Whether it’s about your work, books, or even trivial daily events, it doesn’t matter. I will read it with pleasure. After all, I am your first fan.

 

Looking forward to your reply.

 

Lewis Wilson.]

 

It was another letter that made her smile unwittingly as she read. Eleanor put the letter back in the envelope and stored it carefully in her drawer.

 

Whenever she had time, Eleanor would take Emily to the library. Each time, they would borrow a heap of books and leave with their arms full.

 

According to the librarian Daisy, only a handful of villagers visited the library.

 

“For the first few days, people came out of curiosity, but after that, it’s been completely empty. I really wonder if there’s any need for me to be here.”

 

Daisy spoke indifferently. She was about Eleanor’s age with very curly brown hair.

 

“So you have to keep coming. Otherwise, the library might close, and I might lose my job.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

 

Emily spoke quietly, and Eleanor smiled awkwardly.

 

Compared to the books at the Duke of Griffith’s library, which were mostly old and a bit musty, the books at the village library were well-maintained and almost new. Eleanor felt a renewed sense of gratitude towards Wilson. Thanks to him, she was able to reclaim the afternoons spent leaning on the sofa with a book.