Side Story 20. Autumn Walk
Baden was bustling from early morning, preparing to welcome guests.
The country house, diligently swept and polished for days, now sparkled in the faintest light. The pantry's shelves were tightly packed, enough to comfortably accommodate several adults.
After carefully examining the house, Baroness Baden entered Erna's room carrying a newly made patchwork quilt. The old, narrow bed seemed uncomfortable, so she moved the large bed from the guest bedroom here. Otherwise, everything remained the same as before.
Baroness Baden, who had spread a fresh blanket on the neatly made bed, slowly surveyed the room with slightly reddened eyes. It seemed as if the little girl was still there, yet now she was a mother, holding her own child. The shock of this revelation filled her with emotion, but she held it in. She couldn't allow such a joyful day to be ruined by the imprudent tears of an old woman.
Baroness Baden, turning away, finally checked the kitchen, where food preparation was in full swing. Madame Greve, her arthritis forgotten, was skillfully preparing the dishes, which were piled high.
Baroness Baden, with a satisfied smile, quickly changed clothes and stepped out the front door to greet Erna. As the time for Erna's arrival drew near, her gaze, gazing at the autumn-colored country road, grew increasingly anxious.
It was Bjorn who gave her an unexpected gift.
He had first conveyed his intention to visit the Baden family with Erna when she reached a stable period and was able to travel long distances. It was a stark contrast to last year's letter, when he had bluntly rejected her wish to temporarily care for her pregnant granddaughter.
She read and reread the letter, which seemed to show her beloved granddaughter. That lonely child had found a strong new family. With that realization, she felt she could finally return to her husband and daughter in heaven without any regrets. Of course, that would be after she had met Erna's child, who would arrive next spring, the season of blooming flowers.
“Look over there, madam. The carriage is coming!”
The maid standing behind pointed to the other side of the road with her fingertips.
Baroness Baden pushed up her reading glasses, which had fallen down to the bridge of her nose, and squinted her eyes. The carriage procession carrying the Grand Duke and his wife was more extravagant than ever.
"Grandma!"
As the carriage pulled into the driveway of Baden Street, Erna's voice was heard.
A quiet smile appeared on Baroness Baden's face as she saw her granddaughter peeking out the window. It was an unladylike gesture, but today, she didn't want to scold her granddaughter.
Soon, the carriage stopped, and Erna emerged, much healthier than when she left. She simply held her granddaughter tightly in her arms, as if she were a child.
How are you? How are you and your child? Are you happy?
The countless questions that had been lingering on her tongue all day seemed unnecessary. Erna's bright smile and the Prince's gaze, watching her from a distance, answered them all.
“It’s a divorce.”
In a few short words, Bjorn expressed his impressions of the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Two spotted cows wandered the pastures behind Baden Street. One of them was Ion, the very calf the Prince had named. Ion, now as large as his mother, munched on grass and watched them. Judging by his rather rude attitude, he seemed to be entering puberty.
“It’s Christa.”
Erna frowned, retorting firmly. She didn't want to hear that embarrassing word anymore, but Bjorn kept calling her name as if he were humming a joyful song.
"Don't say that again, Bjorn. The baby can hear."
Erna whispered softly, her hands wrapped around her stomach. Bjorn lowered his gaze, examining the spot where his wife's hand had touched, and the corners of his mouth curved pleasantly.
“Shouldn’t that child know how much his mother loved that word?”
“You would never say something like that to a child?”
“Erna, baby Dniester deserves to know our family’s long history.”
It was a sly joke, but Erna knew. This man could be the kind of father who would tell such stories to his child.
“Just say something like that.”
“Are you running away from home again?”
"No. We should let you go. The Grand Duke's people would prefer that."
The autumn sunlight pouring down on the country road made Erna's smile look even brighter.
Bjorn, who had been staring blankly at the beast, which was becoming more ferocious by the day, gave a small chuckle. Fortunately, he didn't notice the look of agreement that crossed the faces of the Grand Duchess' maids, who were following him at a reasonable distance.
The two, having crossed the meadow, now entered the autumn forest. The sound of footsteps, keeping pace with Erna's slow pace, followed the path lined with beautiful autumn foliage. The deep autumn air was chilly, but where the sun shone, it was warm, making it a pleasant day for a stroll.
The days in Burford passed peacefully.
Erna enjoyed leisurely walks, ate home-cooked meals fervently prepared by her large-handed nanny, and shared sweet conversations with her grandmother, who had eyes just like her own. In her spare time, she knitted tiny socks and clothes for dolls and made flowers to decorate the nursery. Baby Dniester, born into this world, would grow up surrounded by all the colorful things his mother had prepared for him.
The baby is growing up healthy, Prince.
Bjorn could now trust the answer his doctor had repeated dozens of times. Erna, now walking hand in hand with him, had the face of a woman happier and more beautiful than anyone else in the world.
“Bjorn, look over there!”
A cheerful voice woke Bjorn from his reverie. He turned his head to where Erna's fingertips were pointing, and saw a branch bearing small, red berries.
“The flower apples have ripened.”
Flower apple.
Repeating the name his wife had given him, Bjorn reached out and plucked a small branch bearing the prettiest fruit. Erna carefully placed the branch in the basket she had been given.
Rose berries. Chrysanthemums. Acorns.
Every time Erna whispered the name, Bjorn placed it in his wife's small hand. The purpose of the gathering was completely unknown, but Erna seemed to simply enjoy gathering things like an autumn squirrel.
By the time they reached the deep forest, Erna's basket was already overflowing. Looking down at it, Bjorn was suddenly grateful for his own fascination with the country girl who loved the names of all kinds of weeds.
Bonds. Stocks. Gold.
If his wife had loved the name, he might have been a foolish fool who would have snatched it up and put it in his basket. In such a weak-minded state, it was a perfectly feasible assumption.
“This is where I was talking about, Bjorn!”
While he was ruminating on the sweet feeling of self-loathing, Erna found today's destination: a colony of wild mushrooms.
Bjorn followed a few paces behind, watching his wife and maids, absorbed in picking mushrooms. Why should they bother with such a task when the Baden family's pantry was stocked with enough food to feed an army? He couldn't understand it, but he didn't care.
Although he could never fully understand Erna's world, Bjorn loved the beautiful confusion that arose from that gap. That was all that mattered.
“Do you want to try it too?”
Erna, already halfway through her large basket, beckoned him over. Bjorn slowly approached, looking down at the mushrooms sprouting vigorously with a disapproving gaze.
“No. I don’t want to touch it.”
"Why?"
“Somehow, it looks unpleasant.”
Erna gasped at his casual reply. Lisa, who had been diligently gathering mushrooms, flinched and turned her head.
Lisa blinked a few times, then suddenly frowned and threw the mushrooms she was holding in her hand. As she wiped her hands on her apron, her cheeks flushed red like the autumn leaves on a forest path.
“Bjorn! The baby can hear you.”
Erna was flustered and scolded him, but he responded with an indifferent expression.
“Is there anything wrong with what I said?”
"That..."
"Think calmly, Erna. The baby knows."
He looked down at Erna, who was hesitating, and with a surprised expression on his face, he offered some shameless advice.
Leaving his wife and maids behind, who were staring with slightly embarrassed eyes at the mushrooms strewn across the ground, Bjorn began to leisurely walk along the leaf-covered path. The hem of his well-tailored overcoat swayed leisurely with his footsteps.
Erna, having lost her desire for mushrooms, shook her hands at that point. The two maids accompanying her did the same.
Erna tried to think positively, straightening her clothes and picking up the ribboned wicker basket she'd placed on the rock. Her sly husband stood at the end of the forest path, his pack on his back, his posture elegant.
Erna, who had once again adjusted the shape of her shawl and brooch, approached him with light steps and took his outstretched hand.
As they emerged from the forest, golden sunlight poured down on them. Christa, now well fed, leisurely strolled through the fields, basking in the sun. As they walked, exchanging small jokes and laughter, they soon found themselves nearing the Badens. Smoke billowing from the kitchen chimney suggested Madame Greve was baking something again.
“Bjorn.”
Erna slowly turned her head and looked at her husband standing beside her. As she met his gray eyes framed by long eyelashes, this peaceful autumn became even more beautiful.
“Can’t you tell me you love me?”
So she decided to throw a little tantrum.
“The baby wants to hear it.”
She feels like he would listen to anything right now.
As if that wish was about to come true, Bjorn looked down at Erna's stomach, which was starting to rise little by little, with a smile like the afternoon sunlight.
“Baby Dniester.”
His voice calling the child was much more affectionate and sweeter than usual. The hand that touched her belly was also like that.
“Don’t be weak-willed, grow strong.”
The words conveyed by that voice were not at all like that.
“Yes, let’s go.”
He reached out his hand slyly to Erna, who frowned at the shattered expectations. Feeling that pressing her any further would be a considerable blow to her pride, Erna feigned defeat and took his hand.
He was a man for whom a single word of love was very expensive.
Baden was bustling from early morning, preparing to welcome guests.
The country house, diligently swept and polished for days, now sparkled in the faintest light. The pantry's shelves were tightly packed, enough to comfortably accommodate several adults.
After carefully examining the house, Baroness Baden entered Erna's room carrying a newly made patchwork quilt. The old, narrow bed seemed uncomfortable, so she moved the large bed from the guest bedroom here. Otherwise, everything remained the same as before.
Baroness Baden, who had spread a fresh blanket on the neatly made bed, slowly surveyed the room with slightly reddened eyes. It seemed as if the little girl was still there, yet now she was a mother, holding her own child. The shock of this revelation filled her with emotion, but she held it in. She couldn't allow such a joyful day to be ruined by the imprudent tears of an old woman.
Baroness Baden, turning away, finally checked the kitchen, where food preparation was in full swing. Madame Greve, her arthritis forgotten, was skillfully preparing the dishes, which were piled high.
Baroness Baden, with a satisfied smile, quickly changed clothes and stepped out the front door to greet Erna. As the time for Erna's arrival drew near, her gaze, gazing at the autumn-colored country road, grew increasingly anxious.
It was Bjorn who gave her an unexpected gift.
He had first conveyed his intention to visit the Baden family with Erna when she reached a stable period and was able to travel long distances. It was a stark contrast to last year's letter, when he had bluntly rejected her wish to temporarily care for her pregnant granddaughter.
She read and reread the letter, which seemed to show her beloved granddaughter. That lonely child had found a strong new family. With that realization, she felt she could finally return to her husband and daughter in heaven without any regrets. Of course, that would be after she had met Erna's child, who would arrive next spring, the season of blooming flowers.
“Look over there, madam. The carriage is coming!”
The maid standing behind pointed to the other side of the road with her fingertips.
Baroness Baden pushed up her reading glasses, which had fallen down to the bridge of her nose, and squinted her eyes. The carriage procession carrying the Grand Duke and his wife was more extravagant than ever.
"Grandma!"
As the carriage pulled into the driveway of Baden Street, Erna's voice was heard.
A quiet smile appeared on Baroness Baden's face as she saw her granddaughter peeking out the window. It was an unladylike gesture, but today, she didn't want to scold her granddaughter.
Soon, the carriage stopped, and Erna emerged, much healthier than when she left. She simply held her granddaughter tightly in her arms, as if she were a child.
How are you? How are you and your child? Are you happy?
The countless questions that had been lingering on her tongue all day seemed unnecessary. Erna's bright smile and the Prince's gaze, watching her from a distance, answered them all.
***
“It’s a divorce.”
In a few short words, Bjorn expressed his impressions of the scene unfolding before his eyes.
Two spotted cows wandered the pastures behind Baden Street. One of them was Ion, the very calf the Prince had named. Ion, now as large as his mother, munched on grass and watched them. Judging by his rather rude attitude, he seemed to be entering puberty.
“It’s Christa.”
Erna frowned, retorting firmly. She didn't want to hear that embarrassing word anymore, but Bjorn kept calling her name as if he were humming a joyful song.
"Don't say that again, Bjorn. The baby can hear."
Erna whispered softly, her hands wrapped around her stomach. Bjorn lowered his gaze, examining the spot where his wife's hand had touched, and the corners of his mouth curved pleasantly.
“Shouldn’t that child know how much his mother loved that word?”
“You would never say something like that to a child?”
“Erna, baby Dniester deserves to know our family’s long history.”
It was a sly joke, but Erna knew. This man could be the kind of father who would tell such stories to his child.
“Just say something like that.”
“Are you running away from home again?”
"No. We should let you go. The Grand Duke's people would prefer that."
The autumn sunlight pouring down on the country road made Erna's smile look even brighter.
Bjorn, who had been staring blankly at the beast, which was becoming more ferocious by the day, gave a small chuckle. Fortunately, he didn't notice the look of agreement that crossed the faces of the Grand Duchess' maids, who were following him at a reasonable distance.
The two, having crossed the meadow, now entered the autumn forest. The sound of footsteps, keeping pace with Erna's slow pace, followed the path lined with beautiful autumn foliage. The deep autumn air was chilly, but where the sun shone, it was warm, making it a pleasant day for a stroll.
The days in Burford passed peacefully.
Erna enjoyed leisurely walks, ate home-cooked meals fervently prepared by her large-handed nanny, and shared sweet conversations with her grandmother, who had eyes just like her own. In her spare time, she knitted tiny socks and clothes for dolls and made flowers to decorate the nursery. Baby Dniester, born into this world, would grow up surrounded by all the colorful things his mother had prepared for him.
The baby is growing up healthy, Prince.
Bjorn could now trust the answer his doctor had repeated dozens of times. Erna, now walking hand in hand with him, had the face of a woman happier and more beautiful than anyone else in the world.
“Bjorn, look over there!”
A cheerful voice woke Bjorn from his reverie. He turned his head to where Erna's fingertips were pointing, and saw a branch bearing small, red berries.
“The flower apples have ripened.”
Flower apple.
Repeating the name his wife had given him, Bjorn reached out and plucked a small branch bearing the prettiest fruit. Erna carefully placed the branch in the basket she had been given.
Rose berries. Chrysanthemums. Acorns.
Every time Erna whispered the name, Bjorn placed it in his wife's small hand. The purpose of the gathering was completely unknown, but Erna seemed to simply enjoy gathering things like an autumn squirrel.
By the time they reached the deep forest, Erna's basket was already overflowing. Looking down at it, Bjorn was suddenly grateful for his own fascination with the country girl who loved the names of all kinds of weeds.
Bonds. Stocks. Gold.
If his wife had loved the name, he might have been a foolish fool who would have snatched it up and put it in his basket. In such a weak-minded state, it was a perfectly feasible assumption.
“This is where I was talking about, Bjorn!”
While he was ruminating on the sweet feeling of self-loathing, Erna found today's destination: a colony of wild mushrooms.
Bjorn followed a few paces behind, watching his wife and maids, absorbed in picking mushrooms. Why should they bother with such a task when the Baden family's pantry was stocked with enough food to feed an army? He couldn't understand it, but he didn't care.
Although he could never fully understand Erna's world, Bjorn loved the beautiful confusion that arose from that gap. That was all that mattered.
“Do you want to try it too?”
Erna, already halfway through her large basket, beckoned him over. Bjorn slowly approached, looking down at the mushrooms sprouting vigorously with a disapproving gaze.
“No. I don’t want to touch it.”
"Why?"
“Somehow, it looks unpleasant.”
Erna gasped at his casual reply. Lisa, who had been diligently gathering mushrooms, flinched and turned her head.
Lisa blinked a few times, then suddenly frowned and threw the mushrooms she was holding in her hand. As she wiped her hands on her apron, her cheeks flushed red like the autumn leaves on a forest path.
“Bjorn! The baby can hear you.”
Erna was flustered and scolded him, but he responded with an indifferent expression.
“Is there anything wrong with what I said?”
"That..."
"Think calmly, Erna. The baby knows."
He looked down at Erna, who was hesitating, and with a surprised expression on his face, he offered some shameless advice.
Leaving his wife and maids behind, who were staring with slightly embarrassed eyes at the mushrooms strewn across the ground, Bjorn began to leisurely walk along the leaf-covered path. The hem of his well-tailored overcoat swayed leisurely with his footsteps.
Erna, having lost her desire for mushrooms, shook her hands at that point. The two maids accompanying her did the same.
Erna tried to think positively, straightening her clothes and picking up the ribboned wicker basket she'd placed on the rock. Her sly husband stood at the end of the forest path, his pack on his back, his posture elegant.
Erna, who had once again adjusted the shape of her shawl and brooch, approached him with light steps and took his outstretched hand.
As they emerged from the forest, golden sunlight poured down on them. Christa, now well fed, leisurely strolled through the fields, basking in the sun. As they walked, exchanging small jokes and laughter, they soon found themselves nearing the Badens. Smoke billowing from the kitchen chimney suggested Madame Greve was baking something again.
“Bjorn.”
Erna slowly turned her head and looked at her husband standing beside her. As she met his gray eyes framed by long eyelashes, this peaceful autumn became even more beautiful.
“Can’t you tell me you love me?”
So she decided to throw a little tantrum.
“The baby wants to hear it.”
She feels like he would listen to anything right now.
As if that wish was about to come true, Bjorn looked down at Erna's stomach, which was starting to rise little by little, with a smile like the afternoon sunlight.
“Baby Dniester.”
His voice calling the child was much more affectionate and sweeter than usual. The hand that touched her belly was also like that.
“Don’t be weak-willed, grow strong.”
The words conveyed by that voice were not at all like that.
“Yes, let’s go.”
He reached out his hand slyly to Erna, who frowned at the shattered expectations. Feeling that pressing her any further would be a considerable blow to her pride, Erna feigned defeat and took his hand.
He was a man for whom a single word of love was very expensive.
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