Chapter 260: Revisiting Prunella’s Room

Isolde suddenly felt an urge to examine Prunella’s belongings. She knew that after Prunella’s marriage, her room had remained unoccupied. While important items had been packed away, less significant ones were still there. She wondered if these things could reveal what her mother had been thinking before her wedding.

Oliver seemed to read her thoughts. He looked at her and said, “Let’s go. Let’s visit your mother’s room.” They were in perfect agreement. They slipped out quietly, Oliver naturally taking her hand as they walked, his smile wide and radiant with joy.

The room where Prunella had lived before her marriage remained empty. After marrying, she occasionally returned to her family but never used that room, choosing another instead. There was a reason for this, though no one knew precisely what it was. Isolde guessed her mother might have wanted to preserve the innocence of her unmarried self.

The courtyard was overgrown with vines clinging to the walls. A few roses bloomed extravagantly in the corners. Aside from the vines, the other plants were well-maintained. Chrysanthemums flourished in one corner, their fragrance filling the air. The courtyard hadn’t been maintained for a long time. The paint had faded, and sunlight filtering through yellowing leaves cast dappled shadows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. There was no one in the courtyard. Moss had begun to grow on the bluestone path. Isolde held Oliver’s hand as they walked along the path. She could almost see a young woman walking lightly ahead of them.

That person was gone, but she had once lived vividly in this courtyard. Perhaps she wore a green dress or a red satin skirt, her embroidered shoes adorned with pearls peeking out from under her hem as she walked. Perhaps she laughed among the flowers, gazed at the sky from the corridor, or even climbed onto the glazed tile roof to watch the distant lake. Her laughter might have been like silver bells. She might have rested her hands behind her head, gazing at the sky, her heart touched by a fleeting youthful melancholy. She had loved someone, and there were people she disliked, but hatred had never existed in her young heart. Back then, she didn’t know what fate held for her. She was confident, believing life would unfold as she imagined, that she would grow old hand-in-hand with the person she loved. However, it was hard to predict tomorrow, let alone the future. As Isolde walked through the courtyard, these thoughts inexplicably flooded her mind. And she was certain these had been her mother’s thoughts back then.

However, the red paper had faded over time, now a pale yellow and white. Some had been torn, but not completely, leaving remnants that blended almost seamlessly with the window frames. The table, coffee tables, chairs, screens, and cabinets were quietly placed, covered in a thin layer of dust. It seemed the Sharp family had ordered the room cleaned upon their return, but the cleaning had been half-hearted. There was once a beautiful girl living here.

Passing through the main room, they entered the bedroom. A large desk stood by the south window, covered with insect-eaten books. Isolde walked over and wiped the surface with her hand. The dust was thick, indicating the cleaners likely hadn’t entered this area. Yes, to the servants, this was not the young lady’s room, but the room of a dead person. Who knew if the spirit of the deceased might return to guard this place?

The desk had drawers. Isolde opened them and found them neatly organized, filled with letters and two poetry books. She picked up the letters and glanced through them. They weren’t all from the same person. There was a thick stack from the man Prunella had loved. As for the other scattered letters, she checked the signatures and was surprised to find they were from Doug, Pablo, and even Douglas Valois.

Oliver felt a bit awkward and turned away, pretending not to see. Douglas, Pablo, Doug, and Geoffrey—these four had all been trusted subordinates of Garrett I back then. It was natural that they had developed feelings for Prunella. Back then, Douglas hadn’t married yet, but later, his marriage was a happy one, and his wife was deeply devoted to him. Everyone had their own destiny. Geoffrey finally got Prunella, but he made her leave in hatred.

Did Prunella hate him before she died? Isolde wondered. Perhaps not. Prunella was a strong and independent woman. She would only blame herself for not being cautious enough. At that time, Geoffrey was on the battlefield, and she was likely more concerned about the war's progress and whether he would return victorious.

Isolde said nothing. She quietly sat in the chair Prunella had once used, reading the letters exchanged between the two. These were letters from before Prunella’s marriage, filled with affection and tenderness, their love evident in every word. From the letters, she could almost see a young girl waiting eagerly and a young man striving hard to achieve military merit, hoping to earn the right to marry her.

“Why are her letters here too? Shouldn’t they have been sent to your father?” Oliver asked curiously.

Isolde said softly, “For fear of making a mistake, she wrote a draft first to choose her words carefully.”

“Your mother cared deeply for him,” Oliver said. Only someone who cared deeply would be so meticulous.

She read the last letter. He had established military merit and was promoted to Marshal. Although he was only a fifth-rank general, this was definitely not an impressive rank for the Sharp family. However, in Prunella’s reply, she was almost overjoyed. She used many excited words, repeatedly praising his bravery. She was happier than anyone else.

In all the letters, Isolde found that Prunella had never encouraged him. She only said that she would always wait for him. She was even afraid that a single word of encouragement might put pressure on him. She truly loved him deeply. What did she see in him?

In the letters, he wasn’t even eloquent, only reminding her of daily precautions. All the affection and tenderness came from her mother’s replies. Perhaps Prunella felt that this was a down-to-earth person. She only wanted to find someone steady to live a stable life with. She never expected him to achieve great things.

After reading the letters, she found many portraits—some of her mother and some of him. Prunella’s portraits were probably drawn by a professional artist; the style was very stiff and formal. As for his portraits, the signatures at the bottom read “Prunella.” Perhaps her mother had drawn these when she missed him. In the paintings, he was a handsome young man, graceful and gentle, his features soft and delicate—quite different from the man Isolde knew. Since returning from the village, the father she had seen was always stern, with deep lines on his face, his brows perpetually furrowed, serious and cold. She hadn’t thought that he would have such a warm smile.