Chapter 206 If Only
Della kept talking.
"Oh, I remember another time, when you were ill. It was particularly cold that day, and it was raining. A few other girls helping in the kitchen and I were secretly cooking pears in red wine on the stove under the small basement window. Mrs. Hamilton happened to pass by the basement door, smelled the aroma, and came down to look."
"We were terrified, thinking we would be punished. But we were not. She just curiously asked what we were cooking and even tasted a small piece of the soft-cooked pear. She said it was sweet and delicious, and that eating something sweet really seemed to lift her spirits."
Della paused, her eyes suddenly dimming.
"I foolishly told Mrs. Hamilton that next time we would use oranges and add a little cinnamon, which would make the mulled wine even sweeter. She smiled and said okay, said she would look forward to trying my cooking. But later she got hurt, and then... I never had the chance to make it for her again."
Alexander slowly found a trace of reason from the regret that had nearly drowned him, his gaze turning somewhat blankly toward Della.
"Does eating sweets really improve your mood?"
Della was caught off guard by his question. She thought for a moment and shook her head.
"I am not entirely sure," she admitted. "But Mrs. Hamilton always said so. My grandmother and a few of the older relatives used to say the same thing — that when your heart feels weighed down, a bite of something sweet can help settle the emotions, even if just a little."
Settle them? Really?
The bitterness in Alexander's chest felt like being trapped in an endless sea — salt stinging his tongue, dryness catching in his throat, the heaviness pressing against his lungs until breathing became almost impossible.
"I... want to try it too."
Della looked at him in surprise, but quickly recovered and nodded eagerly.
"Yes, sir! The small stove in the basement should still be there, and the ingredients are simple. I will prepare it right away!"
Alexander silently followed Della, descending the stairs to the basement, the servants' area of the villa.
Della skillfully prepared the ingredients and began cooking the pears.
Soon, the rich aroma of red wine mixed with the sweet fragrance of fruit spread through the slightly damp and cold basement.
Rain began to fall again, fine drops tapping against the glass of the narrow skylight above.
Alexander sat quietly on the nearby sofa watching, the flickering firelight casting alternating light and shadow on his pale face.
As he breathed in the gradually warming, rich sweet fragrance, his mind uncontrollably conjured up Caroline's appearance at that time.
She must have been just like this, drawn by the warm sweet aroma, walking down the stairs, seeing a few girls secretly cooking something, but instead of scolding them, approaching like a curious child.
"Sir, it is ready. Please try it."
Della's voice pulled him back from his thoughts.
She ladled out a small half bowl of pear pieces cooked to translucent perfection and carefully handed it to him.
Alexander took the bowl and tasted it in small bites.
Very sweet.
The sharpness of the red wine was softened by the natural sweetness of the pears. The pear pieces were cooked soft, melting in his mouth, the rich sweetness instantly spreading across his tongue.
But the aftertaste was still somewhat bitter, lingering at the back of his tongue, refusing to fade, bitter all the way to his heart.
Alexander thought the rumors were probably wrong.
Caroline did not actually like sweets, especially since she was lactose intolerant and could not eat desserts with dairy products.
But during the time she pretended to be Edith, she had to force herself to eat those cream-laden, sickeningly sweet cakes that Edith loved most.
How much must she have hated that cloying taste?
And how bitter must she have been later to believe those rumors and eat sweets she did not like?
A suppressed sob finally broke through his throat.
Alexander's tears fell unconsciously, dropping into the bowl of sweet soup in his hands.
He masochistically stuffed the food from the bowl into his mouth, one bite after another, swallowing it down along with the tears and that lingering bitterness.
He had eaten almost all of the pot of wine-poached pears when Della finally could not bear to watch anymore.
"Sir, let us make more next time. If you eat too much at once, your stomach will not be able to handle it."
Della gathered her courage and stepped forward to gently take the bowl from his hands.
Alexander sat dazed, letting Della clean up.
The dizziness from the alcohol became more and more pronounced, the dim basement light spinning before his eyes.
He supported himself on the sofa armrest and stood up shakily, wanting to go upstairs.
Walking unsteadily to the stairway, he instinctively glanced at the stairs leading down to the second basement level.
At the end of the stairs, he could vaguely see that tightly closed black iron door.
Alexander's footsteps stopped abruptly.
The second basement level was the turning point where he completely drove Caroline mad, and the start of Caroline's amnesia.
In a moment of rage, he had dragged Caroline there.
He forced Caroline to kill someone with her own hands, then believed the so-called evidence Celeste provided and forced Caroline to pick up a gun and aim it at Daniel, whom he thought she was having an affair with.
Actually, Daniel did not die.
He had tampered with that shot — the bullet was blank. But Caroline fainted and lost her memory from the shock.
He had kept Daniel alive at the time, not out of mercy, but with even more malicious intentions.
He wanted to wait for Caroline to recover, then let her see with her own eyes the miserable state of this "lover," to continue punishing her.
But later Caroline fell ill, and he took her to the island. With no energy to deal with this, he had someone release Daniel.
He heard that Daniel lost the use of one leg, lost his job at the geological research institute, and disappeared into the masses.
"Sir?"
Della finished cleaning up and, seeing Alexander staring fixedly at the second basement level, could not help calling out softly.
Alexander stiffly turned his head, looking at her with empty eyes.
Della felt unsettled by his gaze and said quietly, "That time, after Mrs. Hamilton ate the poached pears, she also stood here, looking down there, lost in thought for quite a while. I do not know if she remembered something..."
Alexander's hands suddenly began trembling violently.
What if he had let her and Daniel leave back then?
What if he had let her know he had not really been ruthless to the end?
What if...
Would everything not have turned out like this?
But there were no what-ifs anymore.
He raised his hand and slapped himself hard across the face.
Alexander, what have you done?!
"Sir!" Della was frightened. "Do not hurt yourself. If Mrs. Hamilton's spirit sees this, she will..."
She would what? Feel sorry for him? She did not know, so she fell silent.
Alexander steadied himself and stumbled upstairs. "From now on, you will come every day to take care of Caroline and the child."
"Yes."
Returning to the empty hall, the lamp had grown somewhat dim.
Alexander sat back down beside the open casket and dialed Mark's number.
"Tomorrow, bring me some oil lamps."
"And bring the person over."