‘What did you just say?’
Daryl asked, glaring at the man in front of him.
His furrowed brow was a rare sight, indicating just how much he was shaken. Ironically, even this grimace couldn’t mar Daryl’s perfect beauty. No, it rather seemed to fit him as if it had always been a part of his face.
The elderly lawyer cleared his throat and began to read the passage he had just read once again.
“…Inherits all of the above property and the title of Duke of Griffith and its associated territories conditionally to his eldest son, Daryl Allen Lloyd.”
“And that condition is.”
“If he marries Eleanor Townsend and maintains it for more than a year.”
‘What outrageous words are that?’
Layla stood up abruptly and shouted.
“Layla, sit down.”
“But brother!’”
Silently, under the gaze, Layla sat back down with a dissatisfied expression. A heavy silence fell over the office, enough to be gloomy.
“Have you gone mad?”
Dariel spoke after a while.
“Or you were senile.”
It was meant to be sarcastic, but his lips were so stiff that he couldn’t even muster a sneer.
“Considering the honor of the Duke, the latter seems to be a better interpretation. What do you think?”
“…The will was legally drafted under the supervision of the entrant.”
The lawyer’s words contained a polite criticism.
“So you mean there was another person who tolerated that insane talk.”
“..…”
“If I were to file a lawsuit to invalidate the will on the grounds of the deceased’s mental incompetence, what are the chances of winning?”
“It might be difficult.”
“I know he was almost unconscious for about two months before he passed away.”
“The will was written six years ago. And it has not been modified since then.”
Daryl swallowed a curse. Six years ago, it was almost immediately after his mother had left the world.
[Frederick. Even if I die, never think of adopting that child.]
It was the last words left by his mother, Edith.
It was still vivid in his mind. The look in her eyes that sparkled clearly even when her mind and body were completely eroded by the disease. The hand that held his father so tightly that the blood drained from her frail hand.
His mother had always shown a perfect image to those around her as the Duchess of Griffith. She was always elegant and dignified, and she never spoke ill of her husband, even in front of her children.
Because she was such a mother, he didn’t realize. He didn’t know how much the suspicion and distrust accumulated over the years had eaten away at her heart.
[You understand? Absolutely, absolutely not.]
It was not a will, but a curse. There was no doubt that the curse had ruined his father. And now that his father was dead, it had reached Daryl.
Eleanor Townsend. She had been sponsored by his father since she was born. He remembered her being six years younger than him, so she must be twenty-two this year.
Eleanor’s mother, Sylvia, was known as a cursed woman during her lifetime. This was because she had experienced two carriage accidents in her life and survived both times alone.
Born as the daughter of a fallen noble family, Sylvia lost her parents and two brothers at the age of seventeen. As if to entrust her fate, she married John Townsend, the Earl of Dashwood.
The second accident, which occurred less than a year after their marriage, took the lives of her husband, mother-in-law, and a couple who were guests. Sylvia became the owner of the Dashwood estate overnight. And not long after, she found out that she was pregnant with Eleanor.
Sylvia’s tragedy was only a tragedy to herself. People inflated all sorts of fantasies about her. There were public rumors that the two accidents were not accidents at all. There were also speculations that Eleanor might not be the daughter of the Earl. In fact, Eleanor was born just about nine months after the Earl’s death, which was a very delicate timing.
And the most convincingly mentioned as her biological father was Frederick, the Duke of Griffith, who was Daryl’s father. Frederick had been sponsoring Sylvia and Eleanor ever since Sylvia lost her husband. No one knew why. It was because the Duke himself avoided mentioning it. The Duke had neither a close relationship with the deceased Earl of Dashwood nor a connection with Sylvia’s family.
Therefore, people came up with the most understandable and stimulating conclusion. They said that Sylvia was Frederick’s mistress. They also said that Eleanor was his daughter.
Of course, Frederick did not admit it. He dismissed it as not worth mentioning. The Duchess Edith was the same. She seemed to be unshaken by all sorts of malicious gossip. Even to the worried words of her closest friend, she only said, “I trust my husband.”
“Brother, right? You’re not going to marry that woman?”
After the lawyer left, Layla spoke to Daryl as if she were rushing at him.
“There must be another way! So never say you’re going to marry that woman. Understand?”
The face looking up at him seemed to overlap with the image of his mother just before she died. He had heard that his youngest sister, who had just turned eighteen, resembled their mother both outwardly and inwardly. But he didn’t expect her to resemble her in this way as well.
After sending Layla away, Daryl was holed up in the study until the sun went down.
Did he want to prove his innocence?
Daryl couldn’t think of any other reason.
If Eleanor really was his father’s illegitimate child, their marriage would be a scandal that would outrage everyone. No matter how terrifying his father’s feelings for Eleanor were, no matter how worried he was about her situation after his death, there was no way he would leave such a will for that reason alone. To do so, mere madness was not enough. Whether it was hatred or obsession, there had to be at least some causality or inevitability to explain such extreme madness. But no matter how hard he thought, nothing came to mind.
Frederick Lloyd had been praised as a stubborn character all his life. In fact, there were no rumors about him throughout his life except for the suspicions surrounding Sylvia and Eleanor. The absolute position of the Duke of Griffith, the strong wealth, and the perfect family. It should have been a life without any shortcomings.
In reality, his wife, who he believed would trust him more than anyone else, had been suspecting his infidelity all along. But he wasn’t even given a chance to explain his grievances. The result of that resentment and heartache was that will.
It was an absurd story. Especially considering that the aftermath became entirely his own business. He had no idea how many cigars he had smoked. Yet the headache stubbornly clung to his temples like a leech, refusing to go away.
In the end, it was long after sunset when Daryl finally left the room. To the butler who came running, Daryl spat out in a cold voice.
“Contact Miss Eleanor Townsend and arrange a visit.”
****
Once before, Daryl had met Eleanor.
“Come with me.”
It was not long after Edith’s funeral. Frederick instructed Daryl to accompany him on his way to meet Eleanor. Of course, he didn’t want to. To be honest, ‘didn’t want to’ was an understatement.
It wasn’t particularly because of his mother. Daryl was fundamentally very cold-hearted, and he knew it well. What he was displeased with was not because he sympathized with his mother’s feelings, but simply because he couldn’t understand his father.
Whether Eleanor was actually his father’s illegitimate child or not didn’t matter. Her existence was thoroughly negative for the Duke’s family. Daryl couldn’t understand why his father was so entangled with Eleanor, even at the expense of his reputation and prestige.
If it were desire, he could understand. He had thought that was why his father sponsored Sylvia. But affection was different. People who were attached to affection were always ensnared by it. Daryl didn’t want to think of his father as such a foolish person.
Is he using her as a substitute for Mother?
Sylvia had left the world a few months ahead of the Duchess in the same year. Both had been sick for a long time, and people said it was a curse.
At that time, Eleanor was sixteen, just about to debut. It was a disgusting but not impossible story.
That suspicion deepened after meeting Eleanor. Eleanor, whom he met following Frederick, was a modest and slender beauty. He had heard that Sylvia was quite a beauty, so she must have resembled her mother.
Eleanor didn’t resemble Frederick at all. Not only her hair and eye color, but also her overall appearance. The descendants of the Lloyd family, including Daryl himself, were all tall and broad-shouldered, regardless of gender. In contrast, Eleanor was small enough to be a head shorter than him. Not only that, but her neck, arms, waist, and all visible parts were too thin.
