The Countess's Body Has Disappeared - Chapter 42

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 42
“Cecilia! I know what you’re hiding!”
Something tumbled noisily from the open window on the second floor. Cecilia thrust her head out into the open air to identify the unwelcome visitor, then came thundering down the stairs and yanked the door open with force.
“What? I still don’t want to see your face!”
But her annoyance melted like snow the instant she spotted the hawk cradled against Davion’s chest.
“It was lying in the Flower Garden. It hit the windowpane—looks like it’s got a concussion.”
“Oh, the poor thing.”
Cecilia took the hawk gently in her arms and carried it inside, laying it carefully on the Living Room sofa. A crow and a serpent materialized silently at her side as she knelt on the floor.
Davion stood frozen in the doorway, bewitched. The sight was so wondrous, so utterly inexplicable, that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Cecilia stroked the hawk’s head and murmured something—and in that instant, light flashed across its previously blank black eyes.
It was impossible, yet Davion found himself thinking that they were conversing like two people. It shouldn’t be possible, yet it seemed to be happening.
Not long after, Cecilia buried her face in her hands and wept. She lifted the hawk to her breast again as she spoke.
“I can’t save it. It knows it’s going to die.”
She rose to her feet and gently closed the eyelids of the lifeless bird.
“Let’s bury it somewhere sunny.”
While Davion worked the soil on the sunny slope of the Back Hill, Cecilia brought a Flowering Tree from the Flower Garden, roots and all.
Together they buried the hawk deep in the earth and planted the tree above it. Throughout the ritual, Davion found himself suffused with an unfamiliar, almost sacred feeling.
“It was young. Hadn’t even lived three years, I think. But it didn’t resent its death. Animals have senses different from ours—they accept fate far more peacefully than we do.”
Cecilia scattered earth over the tree’s roots as she spoke.
Davion, who had planted the Seedling Shovel upright in the soil, wiped the sweat from his brow. The shock had passed enough that he could ask his question with surprising composure.
“How are you able to speak with animals?”
“I don’t know exactly why. But my mother told me I have Witch’s Blood flowing through my veins. I remember her sometimes conversing with the mice in the hotel.”
Impossible. He’d thought all Witches had vanished by the end of the Medieval age.
Davion, struck silent, stared down at the back of her head. Cecilia turned to face him, her brow furrowed.
“Are you thinking of reporting to the Church that there’s a Witch here?”
“What? Of course not!”
Davion’s voice rose without thinking, her absurd suspicion catching him off guard. But before he could recognize his mistake, Cecilia smiled softly at him.
“I know. You have a good heart.”
Davion fell silent. He looked back down at the nape of her neck, now turned toward the earth, and murmured.
“I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”
“Most people pretend to pity a dying animal and then simply walk past. But you didn’t do that.”
She stood and brushed the dirt from her clothes, then wrapped her arms around Davion’s sweat-soaked body.
“Thank you for bringing it to me. I mean it.”
The sudden embrace stole even his breath away.
Whether she knew it or not, Cecilia smiled as she rested her cool cheek against his chest.
“And now I’m not angry anymore.”
* * *
That night, Davion dreamed of Cecilia.
‘That’ kind of experience—he’d thought it ended the winter he turned sixteen. His friends at the Military Academy had called it “Graduation.” So when he woke that morning and stumbled toward the bathroom, Davion spent a long time with his face buried in his hands, drowning in shame.
‘I’ve finally lost my mind over a woman.’
His body burned, nearly bursting with heat. He doused himself with cold water from the very dawn, then searched for yesterday’s trousers and rummaged through the pockets. He found Cigarettes easily enough, but the Lighter was gone.
He dug through several pairs of trousers in the Dressing Room and soon realized the Lighter had been lost—a wave of dismay washed over him.
This was serious. Losing a gift was one thing, but if Blake found out, she’d lecture him endlessly about smoking. He’d only just managed to reduce her nagging about it.
He searched the Bedroom thoroughly, but it wasn’t there. There was no way he could search the sprawling Mansion alone. There was only one option.
When a young master, raised with all the privileges of a prince, suddenly appeared in the Servants’ Hall, the housemaids startled and scattered in panic, unwilling to approach him. Because of this, Davion had to climb the same staircase three times just to find Eileen.
Eileen was in the Kitchen. She’d been leaning against the counter chatting warmly with the younger maids when she spotted Davion at the doorway and hurried out.
“Young master!”
Davion smiled sheepishly at Eileen as she closed the door behind her. He felt uncomfortable for interrupting their pleasant conversation.
“Why have you come all this way? Is something urgent?”
“I’m sorry. It’s nothing serious. I just wondered if you happened to see my Lighter when you tidied my Bedroom yesterday.”
“You’ve lost it?”
Davion rubbed the back of his neck and nodded with obvious embarrassment.
“If my mother finds it first, she’ll give me a lecture about smoking. You know my situation.”
“Since it hasn’t grown legs, it must be somewhere safe. If we find it, I’ll have the girls set it aside for you.”
“Thank you. Oh, and about that Food Basket—would you mind if I took it again?”
He’d asked the question as Eileen was closing the Kitchen door, having noticed the Food Basket on the counter.
Eileen’s eyes widened noticeably, then she let out a stifled laugh. She went back into the Kitchen and emerged with the basket, placing it in Davion’s reddening hands.
“You must be quite fond of Betty.”
At that same moment, Cecilia was singing as she planted flower seeds in the Flower Garden.
She couldn’t possibly tend such a large plot alone, of course. But when she tapped the ground with her Seedling Shovel, a small mole the size of a child’s fist poked its head up through the soft earth.
“Is this enough? Or should I do more?”
Cecilia grinned, baring her teeth. Along the path the mole had taken, neat heaps of earth rose in a tidy line.
“That’s perfect. You’ve saved me so much time. Are you hungry? Wait here—I think I have some larvae saved inside.”
“Not today.”
“Still, after helping me like this, I can’t just send you away empty-handed…”
“I’m full from the earthworms earlier. Call me again if you need something.”
“You’re a lifesaver, my dear. Go on now, take care.”
The mole turned and waddled its plump hindquarters several times before vanishing into the earth in an instant.
Cecilia had been crouching in one spot for so long that her legs had gone numb. She set down the seedling shovel and rose to stretch, reaching both arms toward the blue sky in a long, satisfying arc. But in that moment, something tapped sharply against the back of her knees, and she lost her balance entirely, tumbling forward into the flower garden.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
Cecilia recognized her attacker at once.
A large shadow fell over her. Davion stood above her sprawled form, grinning wickedly down at her in the dirt.
“Hello, silly Witch Girl?”
“You wouldn’t dare pull that on anyone else!”
Cecilia scrambled to her feet and brushed the soil from her hands, then swung her leg hard against Davion’s shin.
Davion clutched his leg in mock agony, watching her sputter with indignation. Then he lifted the food basket and offered an apology.
“All right, all right. I brought lunch—peace offering, okay?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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