116. New bed
As even the sound of cutlery touching dishes ceased, the garden room fell into complete silence. The sound of water flowing from the indoor fountain was the only evidence of the unceasing passage of time.
Erna, who had been staring down at the napkin in her hand, finally raised her head after a long moment. Bjorn was sitting at the table, his chin resting on his hand, watching her. The strange standoff had been going on for several minutes.
Where did the story go?
Erna nervously picked up her fork again. As she mechanically chewed the small pieces of fish, memories of the fortunately interrupted conversation surfaced.
A horse. Yes, a riding horse.
Bjorn asked about her day, and Erna told him about her morning walk. But that was all, and Bjorn offered to buy her a horse. He said it would be better to learn horseback riding than to walk far away.
Erna swallowed her chewed food and drank some water before facing Bjorn again. The shadows cast by the palm leaves, cast by the shifting sunlight, fell upon Erna, who sat upright.
“Thank you for your kindness, but I’m fine.”
Erna repeated over and over again, giving a familiar answer in a gentle manner.
“Thank you for your concern.”
The corners of her lips, raised in an attempt to smile, trembled. Just looking at Bjorn's stiff expression, it seemed clear that she couldn't smile as beautifully as a flower.
Sorry.
Erna bit her lip, trying to stop herself from adding that out of habit. Bjorn hated that comment as much as the awkward laugh.
As the plates were cleared, dessert arrived. The sweet aroma of figs marinated in honey and wine wafted across the quiet table. Erna, once again, dutifully began to eat her portion.
Over the past month, their meals together had generally flowed like this. In a peaceful yet slightly awkward atmosphere, they ate bland food and engaged in meaningless conversation. Bjorn often tried to buy her something. Jewelry, ornaments. Or, as was the case today, a horse. They were all expensive and precious, yet to Erna, they were unnecessary.
"Oh, Bjorn. I'm planning to visit the Arsene family on Wednesday."
As the silence grew longer, Erna brought up an appropriate topic. Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he set down his wine glass.
“Wouldn’t it be better to invite Grandma here?”
"No. She's visited me several times, so I'd like to go see her this time. Dr. Erickson has given me permission. He said it's okay for me to go out now that I'm fully recovered."
Erna, who was becoming anxious, added an explanation in a hurry.
She suddenly realized, upon seeing the invitation from Duke Arsene's house, that she hadn't been out of the house since returning from the Heine family's outing. That had been at the beginning of summer, and now, with autumn deepening, she hadn't left the Grand Duke's residence for several whole months.
As she realized this, a sudden sense of suffocation washed over her. Sure, the grounds of Schwerin Palace were larger than the entire countryside of Burford combined, but Erna still longed to escape, even for a moment. It was an urge so strong that even she was surprised.
“Bjorn.”
“Yes. Then do that.
When she called his name in a pleading tone, surprisingly, Bjorn nodded his head calmly.
"...Thank you."
At the greeting from Erna, who had been dazed, Bjorn's silent eyes deepened.
“Thank you. I’m sorry. It’s okay.”
Bjorn's voice, humming as he continued, was as soft as the sunlight filling the garden room.
“Erna, those parrot-like answers are starting to get a bit boring.”
Bjorn smiled, wiggling his eyebrows slightly.
Erna flinched and held her breath. She wanted to say something to ease Bjorn's mood, but her mind went blank, and nothing came to mind.
Bjorn is trying.
The attending doctor who visited her daily, the servants who cared for her with meticulous care, the Grand Duke's residence, a tranquil and cozy space, seemingly isolated from the tumultuous outside world. Erna knew all of this stemmed from her husband. Therefore, she, too, felt obligated to make an effort.
It was such an easy task.
Despite giving so much, Bjorn didn't expect much in return. All he wanted was to quietly remain in her place, providing pleasure to her husband. She didn't want to be a useless wife, unable to even do that, but her heart wouldn't move as she wished, making Erna anxious.
“A new bed will arrive tomorrow.”
Bjorn continued speaking while she was trying to fix the fork she had nearly dropped. Erna looked at him with wide, surprised eyes.
“I’ll even call an interior decorator, so redecorate it to your taste. Tell Mrs. Fitz what you need.”
A look of disappointment crossed Erna's face as she understood the meaning of those kind words.
She fled the room, escaping the painful memories brought back by the blood-stained bed. But that was a matter of the heart. Bringing in new furniture and redecorating wouldn't solve everything overnight.
“Bjorn, I...”
“Why? Do you still need more time?”
Bjorn asked, filling the empty glass.
“How long will it last?”
There was no sign of nagging in the elegant gesture of putting down the wine bottle or in the soft voice.
If she asks for more time, Bjorn will listen. But what can he possibly say?
Next week? Next month? Next season?
Nothing seemed like a suitable answer.
“When the new bed comes in, we move rooms.”
Bjorn took a sip of wine and moistened his lips, then calmly ordered.
“Finish it by this weekend. If you can’t do it, I’ll do it then.”
“Bjorn.”
"A married couple should share the same bed, even if it's uncomfortable. Have you already forgotten the Archbishop's teachings that we should walk the thorny path together?"
There was a hint of mischief in the smile that appeared on Bjorn's wet lips.
As even the sound of cutlery touching dishes ceased, the garden room fell into complete silence. The sound of water flowing from the indoor fountain was the only evidence of the unceasing passage of time.
Erna, who had been staring down at the napkin in her hand, finally raised her head after a long moment. Bjorn was sitting at the table, his chin resting on his hand, watching her. The strange standoff had been going on for several minutes.
Where did the story go?
Erna nervously picked up her fork again. As she mechanically chewed the small pieces of fish, memories of the fortunately interrupted conversation surfaced.
A horse. Yes, a riding horse.
Bjorn asked about her day, and Erna told him about her morning walk. But that was all, and Bjorn offered to buy her a horse. He said it would be better to learn horseback riding than to walk far away.
Erna swallowed her chewed food and drank some water before facing Bjorn again. The shadows cast by the palm leaves, cast by the shifting sunlight, fell upon Erna, who sat upright.
“Thank you for your kindness, but I’m fine.”
Erna repeated over and over again, giving a familiar answer in a gentle manner.
“Thank you for your concern.”
The corners of her lips, raised in an attempt to smile, trembled. Just looking at Bjorn's stiff expression, it seemed clear that she couldn't smile as beautifully as a flower.
Sorry.
Erna bit her lip, trying to stop herself from adding that out of habit. Bjorn hated that comment as much as the awkward laugh.
As the plates were cleared, dessert arrived. The sweet aroma of figs marinated in honey and wine wafted across the quiet table. Erna, once again, dutifully began to eat her portion.
Over the past month, their meals together had generally flowed like this. In a peaceful yet slightly awkward atmosphere, they ate bland food and engaged in meaningless conversation. Bjorn often tried to buy her something. Jewelry, ornaments. Or, as was the case today, a horse. They were all expensive and precious, yet to Erna, they were unnecessary.
"Oh, Bjorn. I'm planning to visit the Arsene family on Wednesday."
As the silence grew longer, Erna brought up an appropriate topic. Bjorn's eyes narrowed as he set down his wine glass.
“Wouldn’t it be better to invite Grandma here?”
"No. She's visited me several times, so I'd like to go see her this time. Dr. Erickson has given me permission. He said it's okay for me to go out now that I'm fully recovered."
Erna, who was becoming anxious, added an explanation in a hurry.
She suddenly realized, upon seeing the invitation from Duke Arsene's house, that she hadn't been out of the house since returning from the Heine family's outing. That had been at the beginning of summer, and now, with autumn deepening, she hadn't left the Grand Duke's residence for several whole months.
As she realized this, a sudden sense of suffocation washed over her. Sure, the grounds of Schwerin Palace were larger than the entire countryside of Burford combined, but Erna still longed to escape, even for a moment. It was an urge so strong that even she was surprised.
“Bjorn.”
“Yes. Then do that.
When she called his name in a pleading tone, surprisingly, Bjorn nodded his head calmly.
"...Thank you."
At the greeting from Erna, who had been dazed, Bjorn's silent eyes deepened.
“Thank you. I’m sorry. It’s okay.”
Bjorn's voice, humming as he continued, was as soft as the sunlight filling the garden room.
“Erna, those parrot-like answers are starting to get a bit boring.”
Bjorn smiled, wiggling his eyebrows slightly.
Erna flinched and held her breath. She wanted to say something to ease Bjorn's mood, but her mind went blank, and nothing came to mind.
Bjorn is trying.
The attending doctor who visited her daily, the servants who cared for her with meticulous care, the Grand Duke's residence, a tranquil and cozy space, seemingly isolated from the tumultuous outside world. Erna knew all of this stemmed from her husband. Therefore, she, too, felt obligated to make an effort.
It was such an easy task.
Despite giving so much, Bjorn didn't expect much in return. All he wanted was to quietly remain in her place, providing pleasure to her husband. She didn't want to be a useless wife, unable to even do that, but her heart wouldn't move as she wished, making Erna anxious.
“A new bed will arrive tomorrow.”
Bjorn continued speaking while she was trying to fix the fork she had nearly dropped. Erna looked at him with wide, surprised eyes.
“I’ll even call an interior decorator, so redecorate it to your taste. Tell Mrs. Fitz what you need.”
A look of disappointment crossed Erna's face as she understood the meaning of those kind words.
She fled the room, escaping the painful memories brought back by the blood-stained bed. But that was a matter of the heart. Bringing in new furniture and redecorating wouldn't solve everything overnight.
“Bjorn, I...”
“Why? Do you still need more time?”
Bjorn asked, filling the empty glass.
“How long will it last?”
There was no sign of nagging in the elegant gesture of putting down the wine bottle or in the soft voice.
If she asks for more time, Bjorn will listen. But what can he possibly say?
Next week? Next month? Next season?
Nothing seemed like a suitable answer.
“When the new bed comes in, we move rooms.”
Bjorn took a sip of wine and moistened his lips, then calmly ordered.
“Finish it by this weekend. If you can’t do it, I’ll do it then.”
“Bjorn.”
"A married couple should share the same bed, even if it's uncomfortable. Have you already forgotten the Archbishop's teachings that we should walk the thorny path together?"
There was a hint of mischief in the smile that appeared on Bjorn's wet lips.
Married couple.
Erna's cheeks turned faintly red as she repeated the words he had casually thrown out.
The couple he talks about and the couple she dreamed of.
Faced with those words—same yet different, words that could never be unified—Erna felt infinitely ashamed and miserable. Even though she knew it wasn't her intention, she couldn't shake the feeling that her sincerity was being trampled upon and mocked.
Couple. To Erna, it was the name of the love that gave her everything.
Couple. To Bjorn, it would be the name of a beautiful flower.
“Erna.”
Bjorn's voice, calling her name as if coaxing her, was sweet. His gaze, as if gazing at a lover, was affectionate, and his slowly rising smile was captivating.
Erna nodded resignedly, overcome with despair at the things that once made her dream of love. Fortunately, Bjorn looked satisfied.
Erna, relieved by this, ate the rest of her dessert. After a few more words of conversation, a servant came in to announce that it was time for Bjorn to leave.
Erna, tidying up her clothes, escorted her husband to the front door. She greeted him as usual and quietly stepped aside. Bjorn, as usual, walked away with a light step. Before boarding the carriage, he turned and gazed at Erna for a long moment, but didn't say much.
When the carriage carrying him was no longer visible, Erna entered the mansion. The servants lined up behind her quietly followed the Grand Duchess.
The steady sound of footsteps suddenly ceased as the procession passed through the center of the entrance hall. The Grand Duchess, who was passing over the royal crest adorning the floor, suddenly stopped.
“Your Highness?”
Madame Fitz, who had been glaring at the clamoring servants, cautiously approached the Grand Duchess. Erna gazed at the mansion with the face of a child thrown into an unfamiliar world.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?”
"Yes?"
Only then did Erna turn her head in surprise.
"Ah..."
Erna sighed softly, her face noticeably pale. Her anxious, trembling eyes and blank expression were equally worrying.
“I will call the attending doctor.”
"No."
Erna closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.
“I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine soon.”
The face that smiled weakly was strangely clear.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fitz.”
Erna apologized calmly and started walking again.
Before ascending the red-carpeted marble staircase, Erna raised her eyes, her gaze fixed on the high ceiling. Everything she saw was an overly large and extravagant world.
She was out of breath.
“Bjorn had a prior engagement and couldn’t come with us.”
The young Grand Duchess, who arrived with a bright smile, first brought up her husband. Her expression was no different from the past, when she visited the Arsene household every week, driven by a single desire to give Bjorn a meaningful gift.
“I hated seeing it, but it turned out well.”
Duchess Arsene responded indifferently, half-joking and half-serious.
Erna, who had been watching her with wide eyes, soon gave a quiet smile. Although she looked much better than before, her calmness was so overpowering that it felt unsettling.
This kid is rotting inside.
She had a vague premonition, but Duchess Arsene didn't pretend to know. Even though she seemed to be smiling innocently, she was a woman of considerable pride. She didn't want to open up her wounds and weaken her heart.
“Have the other guests arrived yet?”
Erna, looking around the empty drawing room, tilted her head and asked. Duchess Arsene, with a sullen expression, seemed ready to listen to all the nonsense and simply stroked the cat on her lap.
“Am I the only guest, Grandma?”
“Is there any reason why that shouldn’t be the case?”
“No! That’s not it. I thought you invited other members of the royal family to dinner as well.”
Erna's gaze, which had once again been scanning the drawing room, turned to Duchess Arsene.
“What’s so pretty about those terrible Dniesters?”
Charlotte meowed on the lap of Duchess Arsene, who was shaking her head.
“Of course, you are also a Dniester.”
Erna smiled faintly at the words she added.
While dinner was being prepared, the two spent the same time as they had on countless past Wednesdays. Erna chattered as always, and Duchess Arsene responded with a pleasantly friendly demeanor. The fact that Erna's eyes, which had once sparkled like jewels when she spoke of her husband, had lost their sparkle was all the more striking.
“Hey, you don’t have to try so hard.”
Duchess Arsene, who had been staring blankly at Erna, who seemed to be desperately searching for words, clicked her tongue softly.
She thought he'd told his wife. It was only natural. But when she criticized him for hiding such a crucial matter from even his closest family, Isabelle told her it was a secret, something even Erna didn't know about.
These damn things.
Duchess Arsene left the palace after saying those words.
Her head fully understood why Bjorn had made such a choice, and why he was making such a choice. But it wasn't easy for her heart to accept it. Thinking about how Erna would feel in such a situation made her mind dizzy.
“I’m fine, Grandma.”
Erna looked down at her fingertips for a moment and said with a smile.
“It’s true.”
It seemed clear that the child was not good at lying.
“Madam, another guest has arrived.”
The maid, walking briskly, approached Duchess Arsene, who was at a loss for words.
"Guest?"
"Yes."
Even in front of her, who asked back uncomfortably, the maid showed no sign of embarrassment.
“This is Prince Bjorn.”
Erna's cheeks turned faintly red as she repeated the words he had casually thrown out.
The couple he talks about and the couple she dreamed of.
Faced with those words—same yet different, words that could never be unified—Erna felt infinitely ashamed and miserable. Even though she knew it wasn't her intention, she couldn't shake the feeling that her sincerity was being trampled upon and mocked.
Couple. To Erna, it was the name of the love that gave her everything.
Couple. To Bjorn, it would be the name of a beautiful flower.
“Erna.”
Bjorn's voice, calling her name as if coaxing her, was sweet. His gaze, as if gazing at a lover, was affectionate, and his slowly rising smile was captivating.
Erna nodded resignedly, overcome with despair at the things that once made her dream of love. Fortunately, Bjorn looked satisfied.
Erna, relieved by this, ate the rest of her dessert. After a few more words of conversation, a servant came in to announce that it was time for Bjorn to leave.
Erna, tidying up her clothes, escorted her husband to the front door. She greeted him as usual and quietly stepped aside. Bjorn, as usual, walked away with a light step. Before boarding the carriage, he turned and gazed at Erna for a long moment, but didn't say much.
When the carriage carrying him was no longer visible, Erna entered the mansion. The servants lined up behind her quietly followed the Grand Duchess.
The steady sound of footsteps suddenly ceased as the procession passed through the center of the entrance hall. The Grand Duchess, who was passing over the royal crest adorning the floor, suddenly stopped.
“Your Highness?”
Madame Fitz, who had been glaring at the clamoring servants, cautiously approached the Grand Duchess. Erna gazed at the mansion with the face of a child thrown into an unfamiliar world.
“Are you alright, Your Highness?”
"Yes?"
Only then did Erna turn her head in surprise.
"Ah..."
Erna sighed softly, her face noticeably pale. Her anxious, trembling eyes and blank expression were equally worrying.
“I will call the attending doctor.”
"No."
Erna closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.
“I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine soon.”
The face that smiled weakly was strangely clear.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fitz.”
Erna apologized calmly and started walking again.
Before ascending the red-carpeted marble staircase, Erna raised her eyes, her gaze fixed on the high ceiling. Everything she saw was an overly large and extravagant world.
She was out of breath.
***
“Bjorn had a prior engagement and couldn’t come with us.”
The young Grand Duchess, who arrived with a bright smile, first brought up her husband. Her expression was no different from the past, when she visited the Arsene household every week, driven by a single desire to give Bjorn a meaningful gift.
“I hated seeing it, but it turned out well.”
Duchess Arsene responded indifferently, half-joking and half-serious.
Erna, who had been watching her with wide eyes, soon gave a quiet smile. Although she looked much better than before, her calmness was so overpowering that it felt unsettling.
This kid is rotting inside.
She had a vague premonition, but Duchess Arsene didn't pretend to know. Even though she seemed to be smiling innocently, she was a woman of considerable pride. She didn't want to open up her wounds and weaken her heart.
“Have the other guests arrived yet?”
Erna, looking around the empty drawing room, tilted her head and asked. Duchess Arsene, with a sullen expression, seemed ready to listen to all the nonsense and simply stroked the cat on her lap.
“Am I the only guest, Grandma?”
“Is there any reason why that shouldn’t be the case?”
“No! That’s not it. I thought you invited other members of the royal family to dinner as well.”
Erna's gaze, which had once again been scanning the drawing room, turned to Duchess Arsene.
“What’s so pretty about those terrible Dniesters?”
Charlotte meowed on the lap of Duchess Arsene, who was shaking her head.
“Of course, you are also a Dniester.”
Erna smiled faintly at the words she added.
While dinner was being prepared, the two spent the same time as they had on countless past Wednesdays. Erna chattered as always, and Duchess Arsene responded with a pleasantly friendly demeanor. The fact that Erna's eyes, which had once sparkled like jewels when she spoke of her husband, had lost their sparkle was all the more striking.
“Hey, you don’t have to try so hard.”
Duchess Arsene, who had been staring blankly at Erna, who seemed to be desperately searching for words, clicked her tongue softly.
She thought he'd told his wife. It was only natural. But when she criticized him for hiding such a crucial matter from even his closest family, Isabelle told her it was a secret, something even Erna didn't know about.
These damn things.
Duchess Arsene left the palace after saying those words.
Her head fully understood why Bjorn had made such a choice, and why he was making such a choice. But it wasn't easy for her heart to accept it. Thinking about how Erna would feel in such a situation made her mind dizzy.
“I’m fine, Grandma.”
Erna looked down at her fingertips for a moment and said with a smile.
“It’s true.”
It seemed clear that the child was not good at lying.
“Madam, another guest has arrived.”
The maid, walking briskly, approached Duchess Arsene, who was at a loss for words.
"Guest?"
"Yes."
Even in front of her, who asked back uncomfortably, the maid showed no sign of embarrassment.
“This is Prince Bjorn.”
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