Chapter 1: A Delivered Girl

The girl showed up one early-spring day, riding in the mail coach. It was late afternoon, and Bill Remmer was busy planting rose seedlings.

“Are you Mr. Bill Remmer?” the girl asked cautiously. Bill stared back at her in a daze. Her pronunciation was very smooth, but there was something off about her accent.

“Yeah, I’m Bill Remmer,” he replied.

The girl watched as Bill brushed the dirt off his hands and took off his straw hat. She flinched when she saw his tan face, no longer obscured by the shadow from the wide brim of his hat.

This reaction was nothing new to Bill. Most people reacted similarly when first seeing his rugged features and large build.

“Who are you?” he asked, frowning. The frown made him look even more threatening.

“Hello, Uncle Bill. My name is Layla Llewellyn. I come from Lovita.” She spoke clearly and slowly.

Lovita…

Bill now realized why she spoke with a strange accent. “Did you cross the border and come all the way to Berg by yourself?”

“Yes. I took the train,” she replied. Smiling awkwardly, she straightened her posture to an unnatural degree.

The mailman who had brought her walked up to them. “Ah, I see she’s already met you, Mr. Remmer.”

“Good timing,” Bill replied. “Why did you bring her here?”

“I saw her walking with her luggage all alone in front of the station. I asked her where she was headed, and she said she was on her way to find Mr. Bill Remmer, the gardener for the Herhardt family. I was on my way here to deliver mail anyway, so I brought her along,” the mailman replied with a smile. He then handed Bill a letter. The envelope showed that the letter was from distant relatives of Bill’s who lived in the neighboring country of Lovita.

Bill immediately tore open the envelope and started reading the letter. It told the story of an orphaned child who had been taken in by a series of relatives, all of whom were too poor to able to continue fostering her. The child’s name was Layla Llewellyn. Thus, it seemed that the little girl standing in front of him was the orphan mentioned in the letter. He let out a bewildered chuckle and grumbled. “Damn people. This news sure traveled fast.”

None of this little orphan’s relatives in Lovita could foster her. Even though Bill was only distantly related to her, his circumstances were better than any of theirs, so they had sent her to him. However, they had added that if his situation did not allow him to raise her, he could leave her at an orphanage.

“These people can drop dead. No matter what things were like, how could they send that little girl all the way here by herself?” he muttered, crumpling up the letter and throwing it to the ground. Now that he had grasped the whole situation, his face grew red with anger. She had been passed from family to family like a hot potato, until there were no more families left to take her in. Then, she had simply been handed the contact details of a distant relative living in a foreign country, and sent off across the border to him. It was like she was being banished from her home country.

Just then, the girl, who had been watching Bill quietly, said, “Excuse me, Uncle Bill. I’m not actually that young. I’ll be twelve in a few weeks.” She was being careful to speak in as mature a manner as she could, and had slightly raised her heels off the ground to make herself appear taller.

Even more bewildered than before, Bill let out another chuckle. She was so small; he had first guessed her age to be around ten. He was happy at least to learn that she was older than his guess.

Eventually, the mailman who had delivered the troublesome girl left, leaving the two alone in the garden. Bill put his head in his hands and asked God for guidance. While he was technically related to the girl’s late father, he hadn’t seen him in over twenty years. To think, this daughter of a distant relative was left with him to raise her. This tiny little girl with the widower Bill Remmer!

Although the early-spring weather was still quite chilly, the girl was wearing only a flimsy outfit. She also looked thin as a rail. The only other aspects of her appearance that stood out were her big, green eyes, and her blonde hair, which looked like it was made of gold thread. Bill came to the firm conclusion that he could not take care of her. It then occurred to him that the only other option was to place her in an orphanage, the thought of which upset him just as much. He once again quietly cursed the relatives that had caused this mess. The girl flinched, but maintained a brave facial expression. However, she was unable to hide her quivering hands, or her lower lip, which had grown red because she had been chewing on it.

“Follow me,” he said, shaking his head as he started to walk. “Let’s eat first, and then I can think things through.” His curt words were carried away by the evening breeze. Layla, who had been standing in the same spot since she arrived, started following behind him. At first, she walked slowly and tentatively, but gradually her steps became light and joyful.

* * *

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Bill asked, frowning at the small portion the girl had dished onto her plate.

“Yes. I only eat a little. Really,” she replied, smiling.

Bill grew slightly more frustrated than he already was. “Listen, kiddo, I hate kids with small appetites.”

The girl’s eyes widened at this harsh comment. She had pulled up her sleeves, exposing her slender wrists to the light shining down from the table lamp.

“No matter what you’re served, you should eat lots, like a cow,” he said. His face grew more stern.

For a moment she stared into space, blinking slowly as she considered his words. Then she took another piece of meat and slice of bread and placed them on her plate, then started scarfing them down voraciously, making it seem like she had been quite hungry after all. “Maybe I can’t quite eat like a cow, but I am a good eater, Uncle,” she said, smiling at him with her breadcrumb-covered lips.

“Yes, I can see that clearly now,” he replied, chuckling as he took a sip of liquor. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he then asked, intentionally making an intense grimace as he looked at her. However, she simply stared right back at him, not flinching or avoiding his gaze for a moment.

“Nope,” she replied. “You never yell at me. You gave me all this delicious food. I’m grateful for those things. You seem like a good person.”

What kind of life was she living before this, that such simple things make her grateful? he wondered. This gave him a bitter taste in his mouth, so he stood up and poured himself a large glass of beer. The letter had stated that the girl’s mother had run away with another man, abandoning her daughter and her father. Her father had been so distraught by this that he became an alcoholic and ended up dying of alcohol poisoning. After that, the girl had been passed from relative’s home to relative’s home. Pondering over all this, Bill realized that her life had been far from easy. Even so, he still thought it was out of the question for him to be the one to raise her. As he swigged his beer, he resolved to make a decision on what to do with the girl by the following week.

* * *

“Did you all hear? Mr. Remmer, the gardener, has started taking care of a young girl!” exclaimed a young maid as she rushed into the house staff’s break room. Everyone in the break room turned to face her.

“A girl? Mr. Remmer? I’d sooner believe that he was taking care of a lion, or an elephant,” a servant said, snorting.

Bill Remmer, the gardener for the House of Herhardt, was a man with an innate talent for growing flowers. Thanks to this talent, he had maintained his job for twenty years already, despite his short temper and unsociable personality. He was so even-handed in his treatment of everyone that he acted the same way with the Herhardt family as he did with his coworkers. Even so, the family trusted him deeply. And none of them so much as Dowager Herhardt did. She had an eccentric love of flowers, so she had limitless understanding and tolerance when it came to anything connected to her garden. Even the cottage that Bill had been provided in the woods behind the mansion had been her idea.

Bill lived a simple life. He worked in the garden, and rested in his cottage. Other than having the occasional drink with his coworkers, he spent most of his time in the company of flowers and trees. It had been over a decade since his wife had passed away from an illness, and yet he rarely saw other women. And now that stone-faced man was taking care of a young girl?

Just as everyone in the break room agreed that the rumor had to be false, a maid standing by the window shouted, “Oh my, looks like it’s true! Take a look over there.” She pointed through window as she watched with widened eyes.

Everyone rushed to the window. As soon as they saw what the maid was pointing at, they reacted with just as much surprise as she had. Bill was on the far side of the garden, doing his work in his usual, hunched-over posture. And following right behind him was a little girl, just like the rumor. Her golden hair, which was woven into a braid, swung like a pendulum behind her with each step.

“I still haven’t made up my mind,” Bill repeated each time anyone asked him about the girl. “She can’t stay here, so I’ll have to think of another solution.” As he continued to delay making up his mind, spring turned into summer.

Meanwhile, Layla Llewellyn gradually became a part of the household, and the staff grew used to seeing her busily roaming the gardens and forests of the estate.

“Looks like she’s grown a bit,” Chef Mona remarked, laughing to herself as she glanced out the window.

Layla was strolling through the woods behind the cottage, looking at all the various herbs and flowers growing there.

“She still has a long way to go,” Bill replied. “She’s still small for her age.”

“Come on, Bill. Raising kids isn’t the same as growing plants. They don’t shoot up to full height all of a sudden one morning,” Mona replied, shaking her head as she set her basket down on the table.

“What’s in there?” Bill asked.

“Cookies and cake,” she replied.

“There was a tea party at the mansion yesterday.”

“I hate sweet things.”

“So what? These are for Layla,” Mona casually replied.

Bill’s dark brow furrowed at this. The girl’s stay there was supposed to be temporary, and yet somewhere along the way, the household staff had started taking care of her. They asked Bill how she was doing, brought food for her, and sometimes even went to visit her. This bothered Bill.

“You should buy her some new clothes. If she grows any more, her skirt won’t reach down to her knees,” said Mona, clicking her tongue as she watched Layla chasing after a bird.

Bill couldn’t dispute her point. He knew nothing about children, and yet even he could clearly see that her clothes didn’t fit her anymore.

Just when Mona was about to leave, she glanced towards the window again and gasped. Running to the window, she shouted, “Oh my! My goodness! Look at her!” Bill calmly glanced in the direction she was pointing.

The bird Layla was chasing had landed on a tree branch, and Layla had immediately started climbing swiftly up the tree, moving as nimbly and effortlessly as a squirrel.

“Yep, she’s sure got a knack for climbing trees,” Bill flatly remarked.

Mona glared at him. “Bill! You knew she liked to climb trees, and you just let her do it? Is this your idea of how to raise a child?”

“As you can see, she’s growing up to be nice and strong.”

“You’re raising that girl to be a tomboy! My goodness,” Mona loudly complained.

However, Bill just kept peeking out the window, barely listening. Layla was perched on a tree branch, watching the birds flutter about the treetops. During the past few months while she had been staying at the Herhardt estate, it had become clear that Layla was full of curiosity about the world around her. Flowers and herbs, birds and insects—whatever caught her eye would pique her curiosity and her wonder.

One day, when she hadn’t returned for dinner, Bill had gone into the forest looking for her. He had found her sitting by the river, gazing at a flock of waterfowl. She had been so captivated by sight; she hadn’t noticed him calling her name repeatedly.

Mona spent awhile longer stridently lecturing Bill, then finally left. Bill shook his head to clear the echoing sound of Mona’s scolding from his ears, then he sauntered to the area behind his cottage. As soon as Layla saw him, she waved at him and gleefully shouted, “Uncle!”

She then climbed down the tree just as quickly as she had climbed up it, and zipped over to Bill, stopping right in front of him. She was dressed in a drab, gray dress. Not only was the skirt too short for her, but the sleeves were also too. Realizing that it would be improper for her to meet Duke Herhardt while wearing hand-me-down clothing, Bill decided that he would have to buy her a new outfit after all.

Once they arrived at the cottage’s back door, he turned to her and impulsively said, “Go in and get ready. I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

She looked bewildered for a moment, then a fearful expression flashed across her face as she asked, “B-but, why, Uncle?”

“Don’t look so scared. We’re just going into town to buy you some clothes.” He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, then added, “Duke Herhardt will be arriving soon. You can’t meet him looking like that.”

“The duke? That’s the owner of this estate, right?”

“That’s right. It’s summer break now, so he’ll be returning home.”

“Summer break? Does the duke go to school?” Layla asked, tilting her head and squinting her eyes.

Bill laughed and stroked her disheveled hair. “The duke is only eighteen years old. He has no choice but to go to school.”

“What?! He’s eighteen? The duke?”

Bill found her reaction so cute, he started laughing louder than before. He stroked her hair again. Against his rough fingertips, her hair felt as soft as cotton.

* * *

A train from the capital arrived at the platform at Karlsbar Station. The attendants that had been waiting all walked in perfect order to the door of the first-class car, where they lined up and stood at attention. Soon, a tall, slim boy descended from the train onto the platform.

“Hello, Master,” said Hessen, the butler. After his polite greeting, he and all the rest of the attendants bowed their heads respectfully. Standing with an elegant posture, Matthias gave a slight nod in recognition of their greeting. His red lips were smiling in a subtle but not unfriendly way.

The attendants from the House of Herhardt only started moving once Matthias had taken a few strides forward. The crowd of onlookers quickly parted to let them pass through. Matthias walked the length of the platform at an unyieldingly brisk pace. When he exited the station and saw the carriage waiting for him out front, he snickered and said, “Oh my, a carriage.”

“Ah... yes, Master. Dowager Herdardt doesn’t trust cars.”

“I know. For Grandmother, cars are no more than vulgar, dangerous hunks of metal.”

“I apologize. Next time I’ll-”

“No. I don’t mind doing things the classic way now and then.” Matthias then calmly boarded the carriage. His long arms and legs, which were still a bit lanky at his young age, moved in a smooth, unhurried manner.

Once he was aboard, the carriage started moving, quickly picking up speed until the horses were galloping. After passing through the city square and the busy shopping district, it grew relatively quiet in the carriage. A separate carriage carrying Matthias’s luggage followed a moderate distance behind, its golden crest gleaming in the sunlight.