Once a woman’s heart goes cold, it never catches fire again — Chloe has heard that said somewhere, and it describes her exactly. If anything, she’s left wondering why she was ever in love with a man like that in the first place.
However good-looking he is, however gentlemanly his manners, watching him play the coward and complain about his fiancée to another woman behind her back would kill a hundred years of love in an instant. All the more so after overhearing a conversation where he ran her down to flatter the other girl. If he hates it that much, he’s welcome to dissolve the engagement — though he clearly has no intention of doing that either.
As Chloe’s feelings for Leonardo thin out, her manner toward him grows colder by the day.
And that, apparently, is enough to worry him at last, because he begins fishing for her mood. Wherever that cool composure of his went, he now turns pleading eyes on her and busies himself attending to her. Handing Chloe her teacup at a tea party, the way he did earlier, is something he never once did before, and lately he does it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. But being waited on doesn’t please her; it makes her suspect something has been slipped into the cup. Her regard for him doesn’t rise. It keeps falling.
Once Leonardo works out that attentiveness isn’t getting him anywhere, he moves on to conspicuous gifts. Bouquets of crimson roses. A fountain pen set with small jewels. Sweetly scented perfume. Chocolates and sugar confections laid out in lavish boxes. Every one of them arrives with a message card stuffed full of cloying declarations of love.
Chloe looks over each gift in turn and issues her instructions to her lady’s maid in a flat, even voice.
The roses are to be arranged somewhere out of her sight.
The pen and the perfume are to be shut away somewhere.
The sweets may be eaten, once it’s been confirmed that nothing has been put in them.
The maid’s face fills with surprise, and she asks, [Are you certain……?] Chloe answers without expression: [Yes, that’s fine.] Her mistress is treating gifts from her own fiancé like so much refuse, and the lady’s maid is thoroughly bewildered.
Still, an order from her mistress is an order to be followed. If Chloe wants her fiancé’s gifts out of her sight, then making that happen comes first. The lady’s maid composes her face at once, bows respectfully with a [As you wish], and wheels the trolley of gifts out of the room.
As she nears the servants’ break room at the back of the mansion, she can hear restrained laughter and the sound of cups from inside. She eases the door open.
[Good work today, everyone. Do you have a moment?] (Lady’s Maid)
The maids in the room look up. She lifts the box from the trolley and sets it on the break room table.
[These sweets are from my lady. She says they’re for all of us.] (LM)
[My goodness…… from my lady?] (Maid)
Everyone present widens their eyes and exclaims. While the murmuring spreads, the lady’s maid unties the ribbon on the box and lifts the lid, and a rich scent of cocoa and liqueur drifts up. Inside, arranged in two neat tiers, are chocolates and sugar confections like little jewels.
The break room fills with the sweet, refined smell, and people gather around the table without being asked. On the carefully arranged assortment, a small card bears the name of a confectioner favoured by the great noble houses. A senior maid spots it and murmurs.
[……These are from my lady’s fiancé, aren’t they? Young Lord Linden. This confectioner’s name was on the list of gifts delivered by the Linden messenger this morning.] (Senior Maid)
She was the one who received the Linden delivery that morning and checked the inventory properly, so she remembers. At her remark the other maids’ hands still, and all eyes turn to the lady’s maid.
[Yes…… these are from my lady’s fiancé. But my lady said they were for everyone.] (LM)
[What? My lady…… didn’t eat any of them?] (Maid)
A silence falls for a moment. In one corner of the room, the only sound is someone pouring tea.
[These roses, as well. She said they were to be arranged where she wouldn’t see them……] (LM)
[Oh my, what a magnificent bouquet. Is that from her fiancé too?] (Maid)
[Yes, it is. And when it comes to somewhere out of her sight, I couldn’t think of anywhere but here……] (LM)
Places in the mansion the mistress never looks: the servants’ break room, the kitchen, the laundry. Flowers in either of the latter two would only be in the way. The lady’s maid takes a vase down from the cupboard, fills it with water, and arranges the roses in it.
[Roses this splendid, and from her fiancé at that, and she won’t have them in her room…… whatever can be the matter?] (Maid)
[Yes, truly…… Although…… I have a feeling my lady was never especially fond of roses……] (Senior Maid)
Another maid turns, startled.
[Oh, is that so? How unexpected. Roses suit her so well.] (Maid)
[They look as though they would, but no. My lady prefers gerberas.] (Senior Maid)
[Ah, now that you mention it, the late madam was fond of gerberas as well……] (Maid)
A wistful mood settles over the break room. Breaking the silence, one maid lets slip:
[Does her fiancé not even know what flowers my lady likes……?] (Maid)
[You! That’s out of line!] (Maid)
Another maid hurries to reprimand her, but the one who spoke pays no attention and carries on.
[Well, roses are the flower everyone thinks of as the proper thing to give, aren’t they? Classic, respectable, lovely — but there’s nothing in it about what my lady actually likes……] (Maid)
[……You’re not wrong, though. Come to think of it, these sweets aren’t to her taste either. My lady doesn’t care for chocolates with fruit in them, and she never eats sugar confections by choice.] (LM)
What Chloe likes are plain chocolates with nothing added, where the flavour of the ingredients themselves comes through. Sugar confections she has never much cared for; she’ll take a small piece when they’re served at a tea party, and that’s all.
Not one of Leonardo’s gifts contains a single thing Chloe likes. Something about that sits wrong with the lady’s maid.
‘Now that I think about it, my lady told me to make sure nothing had been put in them before eating. Which means she suspects her own fiancé of slipping something into his gifts……’
While the lady’s maid turns that over, the others start up again.
[Speaking of which…… gifts never used to arrive this often, did they? A few times a year at most. My lady’s birthday, an anniversary of some sort — special occasions.] (Maid)
[True. What’s brought this on, I wonder? Perhaps he’s suddenly become besotted……?] (Maid)
[If he had, he’d send things she actually likes. And besides…… don’t they strike you as half-hearted?] (Maid)
[Half-hearted?] the lady’s maid repeats.
It’s something she’d vaguely felt herself. She can’t quite put it into words, but there is something unmistakably half-hearted about Leonardo’s gifts.
[That’s right. Sending things that aren’t to her taste is part of it, but…… what one gives a fiancée is usually something expensive, isn’t it? Jewellery, gowns. Forgive me for saying so, but flowers and sweets are cheap next to a gown or a jewel. And I don’t believe Young Lord Linden has ever sent anything of that sort. For gifts from the son of a ducal house, aren’t they awfully modest? That’s what feels half-hearted to me.] (Maid)
At that, the lady’s maid’s expression changes, as though something has just been put in front of her.
‘She’s right. Not once has Young Lord Linden sent my lady anything of real value. None of the gifts are cheap, exactly, but set beside a gown or jewellery the price is far lower. For presents from the son of a duke, they’re nothing but modest things……’
They’ve been engaged for a considerable time now, and not a single article of clothing or jewellery in all that while is, by any ordinary standard, a little unnatural. There’s no rule that he must send them, but among the nobility it’s an unspoken expectation. House Linden has had its share of trouble, but surely they aren’t so short of money that he can’t buy his fiancée one dress.
Every one of them is grateful for the sweets they’ve been given, and beneath that gratitude, every one of them feels something catch.
The lady’s maid thinks again of Chloe’s cold face as she handed down her instructions about the gifts.
[……Let’s leave it. It isn’t our place to comment on my lady’s engagement.] (Maid)
One of them says it quietly, and everyone nods.
The sweets in their mouths taste faintly of sorrow.
Simplyrical 
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