“Understood.”

Ian quickly left the study.

Noel quietly stared at the door Ian had closed behind him. Then, setting down the quill pen he was holding, he gazed blankly into the air.

Recalling a woman from the distant past, clinking wine glasses to celebrate a wedding anniversary.

‘What could it be?’

On the morning of their wedding anniversary, this was the first thought that crossed Laura’s mind as she woke.

Still groggy from sleep, Laura traced the checkered pattern of the canopy ceiling with her eyes before glancing at the spot beside her. Her husband’s side of the bed was empty. As always.

Ian rose early each morning, before the dawn’s chill had fully lifted. Careful not to wake Laura, he would quietly leave the bed, wash, dress, and take a few servants to the greenhouse to pick flowers to adorn Laura’s study.

Laura gently ran her hand over Ian’s empty side of the bed.

‘What could it be?’

For the past week, Laura had been consumed by this single thought.

Ever since she’d asked Ian for a memorable wedding anniversary, her husband had become so busy she could hardly catch a glimpse of him. He would leave early in the morning by carriage and return late at night. On the days he stayed home, he’d spend hours in the kitchen discussing something with Philip.

She’d even caught him whispering with Remwick in Remwick’s office when she’d gone there on an errand.

When she asked what he was up to, Ian only smiled. She posed the same question to Philip and Remwick, but both seemed sworn to secrecy, their gazes fixed on distant mountains.

Laura stroked Ian’s pillow. With his newfound busyness, her husband hadn’t joined her for walks or meals lately. Even at night, he came to bed so late there was no time to share their love.

“What kind of adorable scheme are you plotting, Ian?”

The pillow remained silent. Laura sat up, hugged it tightly, and swayed side to side.

“I’m starting to regret it. You’re so busy now, we barely have time together.”

She rubbed her face against the soft pillow and gave it a quick kiss.

“I want to kiss you like this.”

“Then do it now.”

Startled by the sudden voice, Laura whipped her head around. Ian stood at the bedroom entrance, smiling.

Her face flushed bright red.

“Darling, this is…”

Ian strode to the bed, tossed the pillow aside, and playfully pounced on Laura. His suited body pressed closely against hers, clad only in a thin nightgown. Their lips met.

His body, chilled from the morning breeze, contrasted with the warmth of their breath, like spring sunlight. And then—

“Mmm.”

His tongue and saliva were the heat of a summer’s noon.

After a long, deep kiss, Ian pulled back slightly.

“I’ve been neglectful. My Laura gets lonely without her husband.”

Panting softly, Laura averted her gaze in embarrassment.

“It was just me talking to myself.”

“And isn’t self-talk the truest reflection of the heart?”

He showered her cheeks with playful kisses.

“Ian, the maid will be here soon to do my hair.”

“So?”

“It’s not even nighttime…”

Ian chuckled.

“Who said we’d go all the way?”

He gently pinched her cheek.

“Honestly, I’m dying to, but we should save something for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Our anniversary party.”

Laura smiled softly.

“Tonight, then.”

“I’ll come get you around five.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting, dressed prettily.”

“Don’t overdo it. If you get any prettier, my heart might give out.”

Laura playfully smacked his chest. Ian pressed a final kiss to her forehead, like a stamp, and got out of bed.

After breakfast, Laura went about her usual duties as mistress of the house: checking the household accounts in her study, interviewing new servants. Around noon, she took a short walk, had lunch, and returned to her study to focus on her translation work. A typical day.

Yet her heart was more excited than usual.

‘What could it be?’

While translating the final chapter of Julie, or the New Heloise, Laura set down her fountain pen, clasped her hands, and rested her chin on them.

‘A drive to the coast? A trip to the city for some fun sightseeing?’

A smile curved her lips. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. As long as it was time spent alone with Ian.

‘Honestly, I’d be thrilled with just a dinner on the manor terrace and a single waltz.’

A moonlit terrace. The faint strains of waltz music. Stepping in time with Ian, gazing into each other’s eyes.

‘Like the last ball I attended as Laura Pendleton.’

The ball at the Lance estate. After parting with Mr. Price, Ian had sought her out for a waltz. That single dance remained a tender memory. Though it lasted less than five minutes, the sadness of their looming separation and the joy of his concern for her had swirled together, creating a tangle of emotions.

‘Now, it’ll only be joy.’

Laura resolved to dance at least one waltz with him, no matter his plans. Even if the only music was an owl hooting from a hawthorn branch.

The hall’s grandfather clock chimed sweetly, announcing three o’clock. Careful not to betray her fluttering heart, Laura ascended the stairs more slowly than usual.

She bathed carefully and moved to the dressing room, where two maids awaited. As Laura sat at the vanity, they meticulously brushed her glossy, sunset-hued hair that reached her hips.

Since it was a special day, she opted for a different hairstyle. Instead of her usual hairnet, her hair was swept up and secured with a silver pin adorned with a sapphire. It accentuated her elegant neckline and complemented her delicate features.

Next came the dress. Unsure of the destination, she chose a versatile option: a green dress with black stripes, featuring three-quarter sleeves and a high collar for a refined look.

As she draped a crepe shawl over her shoulders, a liveried servant entered the dressing room and bowed deeply.

“Madam, the carriage is ready.”

“Wait a moment.”

Laura glanced at the mirror one last time. As she turned her head, small pearls dangling from silver earrings swayed. After a final check of her appearance, she descended to the entrance.

Outside, a carriage with its doors wide open awaited. The carriage was empty.

“Where’s Ian?”

“He’s waiting for you there.”

Holding the servant’s hand, Laura carefully boarded the carriage. It swiftly passed through the garden and sped down the wooded path of Whitefield.

Laura gazed out the window. The sun, tilting gently westward, cast a shimmering light through the white birches, like reflections off a gemstone.

Entranced, Laura leaned her arm on the windowsill, drinking in the scenery. Though she’d traveled Whitefield’s birch forest hundreds of times since her marriage, its magic still left her spellbound. Each tree seemed imbued with the mystery of love, stirring her heart.

The realization that this was her home felt newly sweet. She could proudly call Whitefield her house, her land, before anyone. In the world of Whitefield, which Ian had invited her into, she was another master.

‘I’ve taken root here, like those trees.’

The carriage turned onto a narrow path branching off the wide dirt road. Lost in the view, Laura suddenly felt puzzled.

‘This isn’t the way to town.’

The carriage was heading deeper into the forest. Could the driver have taken a wrong turn? But a coachman who knew every inch of Whitefield’s geography wouldn’t mistake the road to town for one into the woods.

The carriage stopped in the middle of a field where new sprouts were emerging, by a clear lake where water striders danced.

The coachman lowered the footboard. Stepping lightly onto the ground, Laura surveyed her surroundings. The place felt familiar.

‘I remember. This is the place from Father’s painting. The background where young Ian sat on the grass, gazing at the sky.’

Recalling her husband’s adorable childhood in her father’s artwork, Laura let out a soft laugh.

Looking around, she was flooded with pre-marriage memories. After learning Whitefield was where her father spent his final days, she’d wandered its paths with his sketchbook, tracing his footsteps.

Ian had always accompanied her, guiding her to the places she sought, teasing her when she grew bored, and stepping back to let her savor the scenery.

‘What a thoughtful companion he was.’

As Laura gazed at the lake, lost in reminiscence, the coachman handed her something. A letter. Recognizing Ian’s wax seal, she opened it and found a map inside.

‘The starting point is where I’m standing. Hmm… a path divided by a fence, two small springs, and a chestnut forest…’

The destination was within the chestnut forest. Laura handed the map to the coachman.

“Can you take me there?”

He bowed apologetically.

“I was instructed to guide you only this far.”

“By whom?”

“The master…”

‘So I’m supposed to find it myself?’

Laura tilted her head. A treasure hunt for their anniversary?

‘Well, he must have his reasons.’

She told the coachman to return. He bowed once more and headed back the way he’d come.

Following the map, Laura stepped onto the path. It was different from her memory. Once a dusty, narrow dirt trail, the path before her was now a neatly paved brick road.

It was so smooth that, despite her long dress and heeled shoes, walking felt effortless.

‘This is the path we ran down to escape the rain.’