Since that dim bar night, Celia's shadow no longer merely danced in the darkness behind Edric's eyelids; it permeated every corner of his mind. Edric Sebastian Thornleigh, the genius pianist once so focused on harmony and ambition, now often found himself daydreaming, his gaze empty, staring out his chamber window, his nimble fingers still over imaginary keys. He was like one enchanted, caught in a spell he didn't yet fully comprehend, yet it demanded his complete attention. The information Thomas had provided yesterday, after his initial search efforts, was simply insufficient to satisfy Edric's fervent desire. He knew, it would never be enough. His heart, now consumed by a feverish yearning, could no longer wait. He had to find the woman himself.
That morning, the quiet of Edric's chamber was broken by a soft knock on the door. Before he could respond, the door opened and Lady Lilian Elowen Ashcroft stepped in. She wore a simple, soft cotton morning gown with delicate embroidery, yet her grace was undiminished. Edric started, quickly averting his gaze from the window. He knew Lilian had been at their residence for a while, perhaps since dawn, for endless wedding preparations.
"Edric? My dear, are you alright?" Lilian asked, her voice soft but with a faint note of concern. She approached Edric, her gaze following his previous line of sight. Edric then realized he was staring at an oil painting on an easel, a painting still wet with strokes of dark purple and black. It was a portrait of Celia. Not a clear portrait, more like a silhouette, but the outline of her face, the longing in her eyes, and the basket in her hand, undeniably belonged to Celia.
"Nothing," Edric replied, his voice rougher than he intended. He tried to shield the painting with his body. "Just... just trying to sketch something. Passing the time."
Lilian, sharp in her observation, furrowed her brow slightly. She stepped closer, peering over Edric's shoulder. Her eyes immediately fixed on the painting. The unusual dark colors Edric had used, the melancholic lines. "Drawing? Oh, this is new, Edric. Whose portrait is this? I've never seen you paint such a subject." Her eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing the figure of the dark-haired woman.
Edric felt a surge of panic. "No one. Just... a woman from my imagination. Not a real person. Just a whim." He gave a hollow laugh, trying to sound convincing. "Just a sketch, forget it."
Lilian nodded slowly, though a hint of doubt lingered in her eyes. "Very well, if it pleases you. But... I have good news. Tonight there will be a dinner party at my residence. Only immediate family. I truly hope you and your father can attend."
Edric felt a slight relief as the topic shifted. "Of course, Lilian. Father will surely accept. For him, social events are part of duty."
Lilian smiled, her smile now bright again. She stepped forward, her hands reaching out to embrace Edric. "I'm glad to hear that, my dear." She looked up, her eyes seeking Edric's, her lips drawing near.
Edric felt Lilian's touch, the familiar warmth of her body. Yet, something within him recoiled. He no longer felt the passion that perhaps once existed, or perhaps he never truly felt it at all. The shadow of Celia's smile, even after that fleeting encounter at the bar, felt far more real and captivating than his fiancée's presence.
"Wait, Lilian," Edric said, his voice sounding awkward. He held Lilian back slightly, his hands gently pushing against her shoulders. "I... I'm not ready for that. I think we should wait until we are officially married. Out of respect for our sacred bond."
Lilian's face paled, her smile freezing. Her blue eyes showed a hint of surprise, then sharpened into a keen flash of annoyance. She pulled away, her gaze now cold. "Very well, Edric. I understand," she said flatly, expressionless. Without another word, Lilian turned and walked out of the room, leaving Edric alone in the suffocating silence.
Edric sighed deeply. He knew he had hurt Lilian. Yet, deep down, he felt a slight relief. He had never harbored deep feelings for Lilian. Their relationship was an arrangement, a perfect harmony on paper, but without a soul. And now, with Celia's emergence, that false harmony felt increasingly unbearable.
That evening, the Ashcroft residence was filled with a solemn atmosphere. Only the immediate family was present in the oak-paneled dining room, beneath crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow. Sir Edmund William Ashcroft, Lilian's father, a middle-aged man with the sharp gaze of a shrewd merchant, sat at the head of the table, flanked by his wife and daughter. Alaric Thornleigh sat opposite, eating his meal efficiently.
Conversation flowed slowly, mostly revolving around music, politics, and wedding plans. Sir Edmund looked at Edric with a calculating expression. "Edric, Maestro Thornleigh," he said, breaking the silence. "Considering your grand concert in Paris soon, and Paris being the world's center of luxury, why not celebrate your and Lilian's wedding there? It would be a truly magnificent occasion."
Edric offered a polite smile. "Thank you for the suggestion, Sir Edmund. However, I have decided that our wedding should preferably be celebrated here, in our homeland and city. That way, all our family, friends, and even my loyal musical admirers here can participate in our celebration. I feel it is more fitting." He glanced at Lilian, who nodded in agreement.
"I agree with Edric, Father," Lilian said, her voice steady. "Marriage is about togetherness, not just grandeur. And I wish for everyone I cherish to be present."
Sir Edmund nodded, though he appeared slightly less than satisfied. The conversation shifted to other topics, but Edric felt a slight annoyance with Lilian's parents, who always viewed everything from the perspective of profit and prestige. He needed fresh air.
"Excuse me," Edric said, after a moment. "I must step to the back for a moment." He rose from the table, walking quickly towards a quieter corridor at the back of the house. His intention was to find solace, perhaps a small garden out back, to clear his mind from the suffocating formality.
However, as Edric passed through the swinging door leading to the kitchen area, an unexpected sight made him stop. The strong aroma of spices and cooking wafted through the air. There, beside a stout head chef who was chopping vegetables, stood Celia. Her simple dress seemed to stand out amidst the neat uniforms of the cooks. She was talking to the head chef, her laughter clear and her smile captivating, just as in his dream.
Edric gasped, his heart pounding. She was here! In the Ashcroft's house! He approached a young servant who was carrying empty plates.
"Excuse me, servant," Edric whispered, trying to keep his voice low. "The woman talking to the head chef... who is she? And what is she doing here?"
The servant turned, looking towards Celia. "Oh, that's Celia, Master. She's the wild honey delivery woman. She brings fresh wild honey to Master Ashcroft's house every week. Her honey is the best in town, Master."
"Thank you for the information," Edric said, his breath held. He knew it now. She was the Devil's agent, a pawn in a grand scheme, but at that moment, all that vanished. She was Celia. And she was right there in front of him.
Just then, Celia bowed slightly to the head chef and turned, heading towards the back door that led to the garden and possibly the street. Edric was waiting for her outside the door.
Celia stepped out, and her eyes widened when she saw Edric standing there, in the dim twilight that enveloped the garden. Her captivating smile faded, replaced by an expression of surprise, then fear.
"Miss Celia," Edric greeted, his voice slightly hoarse with strange excitement and anticipation. He stepped forward, trying to get closer. "We finally meet. Edric Sebastian Thornleigh. I wish to know you."
Celia recoiled a step, her eyes scanning around, looking for an escape. "Sir... Master Thornleigh. I... I am not worthy. I am only a deliverywoman. I am not worthy to do this." Her voice trembled, a real fear in her tone.
"Status means nothing," Edric replied, his voice now softer, more insistent. He took another step forward. "Only you matter. I wish to meet you again. Tonight, by the old forest bridge by the river. After dusk, when the moon rises."
Celia's face paled. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No... I cannot, Master. I... I am afraid."
Without waiting for Edric's reply, Celia turned and ran with all her might, opening the garden gate and disappearing among the bushes and into the darkness outside the Ashcroft residence. Edric watched her run, his heart filled with a mixture of frustration and burning desire. He knew he couldn't chase her now, not in this disguise, not in Lilian's house.
However, he did not despair. He walked to the gate where Celia had vanished, his eyes staring into the darkness. "I will still wait for you there, Celia Bennett," his voice drifted softly, yet filled with absolute resolve. "Tomorrow, after dusk. I will wait for you at that bridge."
That night, beneath the faintly rising moon over the Ashcroft residence, the man's long-awaited desire was finally fulfilled. A name. Celia Bennett. A captivating smile, real, no longer merely a figment in a sunflower field. His resolve was now as firm as steel, and the promise of tomorrow's meeting at the forest bridge felt like a soothing melody that dispelled every unease. Tonight, Edric was certain he would sleep soundly, free from haunting shadows or doubts. With steps that felt light, and a new secret held tightly within the depths of his heart, he returned to the dining table, resuming his role in the solemn supper, awaiting the dawn that would draw him even deeper into his forbidden symphony.