Afternoon. The sun was bright and clear.
Louise stayed in her own room, fidgeting restlessly as she waited for Mary to arrive.
Every now and then she would walk to the window and gaze out toward the courtyard, those lovely amber eyes brimming with an anticipation she could barely manage to hide.
At last — a familiar black carriage, emblazoned with the Morstan family crest, came rolling slowly into view.
She instinctively smoothed out her skirts, then checked herself once more in the mirror, and only after confirming that her appearance was utterly flawless did she hurry out of her room and make her way down to the parlor below.
When Mary, led in by an attendant, stepped into that lavishly furnished parlor with its soaring vaulted ceiling, the very first thing she saw was the young girl perched on the sofa — elegantly poised in her bearing, yet utterly unable to mask her excitement.
"Good afternoon, Mary-sis... ah — Miss Mary."
Louise rose to her feet with a brilliant smile, gathering up her skirt as she came forward to greet her.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness."
Mary returned the greeting with a smile and a small curtsy. Today she wore that same black-and-white dress as ever — understated, but losing none of its elegance for it.
The two of them settled onto the sofa, and a maid soon brought out delicate teatime sweets and fragrant, mellow black tea.
"I really didn't think you'd actually be able to come."
Louise said softly, cupping her teacup in both hands.
"Honestly — neither did I." Mary gave a small, faint smile. "When I saw this morning's papers, I rather assumed today's Afternoon tea would have to be put off for the time being."
She paused, then went on: "It seems Her Majesty truly does dote on you."
"Mother only forbade me from leaving the palace." Louise blinked. "She said she didn't want me sitting alone, letting my thoughts run wild."
The two of them exchanged a smile, and the air between them filled with an easy, pleasant warmth.
After a brief exchange of small talk — once the safe 'fashion deck' and 'weather deck' of polite topics had been thoroughly played out — Louise could no longer rein in the excitement bubbling inside her. Her whole bearing took on the look of someone with a secret she was bursting to share.
"There's something I want to tell you, Mary."
She dropped her voice and leaned forward. "You absolutely mustn't tell anyone else — or I'll be done for."
"Hm?"
Watching the air of mystery Louise had taken on, Mary couldn't help but feel her curiosity stirred.
"You have my word, Your Highness."
"I..."
Louise paused, glanced quickly to her left and right, and only after confirming there was no one else within earshot did she go on:
"Last night... I actually saw him."
"Him?" Mary was, for the briefest of moments, taken aback.
"You know... Moriarty!" Louise pressed her voice still lower, breathing the name out one syllable at a time, her amber eyes positively glittering with excitement.
The instant the words left her lips, the hand in which Mary held her teacup paused — almost imperceptibly.
Even the smile resting on her face stiffened for the space of a single heartbeat, before quickly slipping back into place.
But deep within those clear, sea-blue eyes, a small flicker of wariness and scrutiny silently rose to the surface.
"You saw him?" Mary set her teacup down, her tone perfectly even. "When?"
"Last night!" Louise said excitedly.
"At the very stroke of midnight, just as the clock was striking twelve, he simply appeared in my room — exactly the way the papers say. Like a ghost!"
She launched, with rapt and vivid relish, into a description of that dreamlike encounter from the night before — from the Phantom Thief's sudden appearance to his mysterious attire — every single detail rendered in radiant color.
Mary listened in silence, never once interrupting, only nodding now and again in apparent agreement — yet the wariness at the back of her eyes grew steadily thicker.
She had originally assumed that after Moriarty infiltrated Buckingham Palace the night before, he had merely made off with a single snuffbox — an item of purely symbolic, royal significance.
Nothing more than another harmless little provocation aimed at the rich and the powerful.
But what she had not for a moment expected was that this audacious, brazen Phantom Thief would actually train his sights on the princess herself.
Whatever his motives, the act itself was more than enough to stir in Mary a profound displeasure — and a real, sharpening hostility — toward him.
"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" Mary asked, her voice soft with concern.
"No," Louise shook her head. "He only took my music box — and he promised he would return it."
The young girl said it with a tone of complete, unshakable trust in Russell.
"And — and from the very beginning, it seems I really was his target," Louise went on, her expression as proud as a peacock fanning out its feathers.
"He even sent me a notice letter."
"A notice letter?" Mary arched an eyebrow. "May I see it?"
"Of course." Louise nodded, then rose to her feet. "Come with me."
She led Mary up to her own bedchamber, then carefully drew out the two notice letters along with the small card, and laid them out for Mary to see.
"Look, Sister Mary."
Mary reached out and took them, her gaze settling on that line of all-too-familiar handwriting.
This was, beyond any possible doubt, Moriarty's hand — and yet this was the first time she had ever heard of that man bothering with anything as theatrical as a notice letter.
"Have you told Her Majesty about this?"
"No." Louise shook her head. "Though Mother did find out about the second letter — and the card — and she was absolutely furious about it."
"Quite understandable," Mary said. "In any case — I'm just glad that nothing happened to you."
"Mr. Moriarty isn't that sort of person, you know." Louise said.
"Oh — and didn't you say in your letter that you've met him too?"
"Mm." Mary nodded, making no attempt to deny it.
"A conceited, arrogant man who thoroughly enjoys giving offense."
Mary delivered her assessment without pulling a single punch, the distaste in her voice entirely undisguised.
"He broke into my room, stole my lipstick, and left behind a great many... extremely offensive remarks."
"...He stole your lipstick?" Louise's eyes went wide with astonishment, as though she had just heard the most outlandish fairy tale.
"Who knows what's going on inside that man's head." Mary said, pursing her lips.
And so the two young women went back and forth, trading impressions of their respective encounters with that legendary Phantom Thief — and without anyone quite noticing it happen, the warmth between them came creeping back into the room.
"Come to think of it," Louise said, suddenly remembering something, "even though he took my music box — he did tell me two stories."
"Stories?"
"Mm." Louise nodded, and at once launched, with bright-eyed enthusiasm, into a retelling of the story of the Little Prince and the rose.
Mary listened in silence, and only when Louise reached the very end did she offer a single, noncommittal remark:
"It does sound like a rather lovely fairy tale."
"And there was another one!" Louise launched, without missing a beat, into the second story.
"He said — once upon a time, there was a man who had saved up three hundred taels of silver. He was very pleased with himself, but terrified that someone would steal it.
So he found a place to bury the silver, and afterwards he even drove a wooden sign into the ground on top of it."
The young girl's clear, crisp voice rang through the magnificent parlor. As she heard the words, Mary's brow could not help but knit together — and for a single instant, it was as though even her heart had stopped beating.
"What... did the sign say?"
"There Is No Money Here."
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