Chapter 282 She Even Has a Maid
The old Neville family house next door had been abandoned for a long time.
The iron railings on the courtyard wall were completely covered by vines, and the paint on the gate had peeled off in large patches, revealing the rust-stained metal underneath.
The garden was overgrown with weeds, the tallest standing up to the knee, encircling the aged lemon tree at its center.
Alexander stood at the gate, gripping the keys tightly in his hand, standing quietly for a long time.
His hand was still shaking when he inserted the key into the lock.
The door had not been opened for a long time and was heavily corroded on the inside. Alexander had to exert significant effort before he could finally twist it open.
Inside the house was complete desolation.
Alexander stepped inside.
The wallpaper in the entryway had curled at the edges, and the wooden floorboards in the hallway made old creaking sounds under his feet. All the furniture was covered with white sheets, their surfaces covered in dust.
Alexander stood in the hallway, suddenly not knowing where to go next.
He wanted to go to her room, but didn't dare approach it.
He remained still and quiet for an extended period, repeatedly steeling himself mentally, until at last, he moved ahead.
The stairs, unmaintained for years, made dry creaking sounds with each step.
The door to the first room on the second floor was half open.
Alexander recognized this door.
When he was a teenager coming to see Edith, he would pass by this door every time.
In those days, the individual who resided behind this door was someone he wouldn't even look at twice.
Sometimes, he would run into the owner of this room in the hallway.
She always wore a calm expression and liked to wear cotton or linen dresses.
When she saw him, she would only greet him softly and nod slightly.
She frequently had little gardening implements in her grasp, whether on her way to the rear garden or just returning from it.
In teenage Alexander's eyes, Caroline had always been a very quiet person.
She was not fond of speaking; she enjoyed caring for flowers and greenery, loved to read, and played the piano with great skill. But Alexander only had eyes for Edith, and he had no mind to notice these things.
Back then, he didn't know that Caroline actually had a very passionate nature deep down.
She expressed her emotions openly, and in matters of affection and resentment, she was far more courageous than he was.
Alexander reached out and pushed the door open.
The door hinge made a dry, grating sound.
The space was modest in size. With the drapes closed, the incoming light was reduced to a faint gray-blue hue.
The bedding had been removed from the bed, leaving only the empty bed frame and mattress.
Several books remained on the desk, their backs so worn that the original titles could no longer be read. A pencil cup contained a number of pens, likewise coated with dust.
A faded photo was stuck on the wall, showing her with another girl, both smiling happily.
Alexander didn't recognize that girl.
He suddenly realized that there was so much about Caroline he knew nothing about.
He didn't know who her friends were or what she liked to do when she wasn't gardening or reading. He didn't know what she was like when she was alone in her room.
He had never known.
The only thing he understood was that she cared for him, and then he slowly dismantled that affection piece by piece.
Alexander slowly walked into the room and crouched down by the bed.
His hand brushed over the edge of the mattress, his fingertips touching a thin layer of dust.
She used to sleep here, she used to dream in this room.
She once had a plant on the window ledge, as a dried-out flowerpot remained there, with the earth inside split into solid fragments.
Alexander's fingers pressed into the cracked soil, and fragments fell through his fingers.
She used to keep a plant on the windowsill, as a parched flowerpot still sat there, its soil fractured into firm clumps.
He suddenly remembered Caroline's final appearance.
She had been kneeling on the beach, covered in blood, holding their newborn child in her arms—a child who had died before even getting a chance to truly see the world.
When she looked up at him, her eyes were already empty.
It wasn't hate, it wasn't fear, and it wasn't despair.
It was complete emptiness.
Back then he didn't understand what that look meant, but now he did.
That was what a person looked like after being completely hollowed out.
She had given him all her anger, all her sadness, all her love.
He took everything from her, then tore it apart, and afterward he demanded—why won't you offer me anything else?
Alexander pushed his forehead into the bed, and his shoulders trembled intensely.
A long time passed before Alexander slowly lifted his head.
He suddenly remembered something.
When Felix was still around, he had mentioned that after Caroline saved him when he got into trouble, worried that he would be punished if he returned to the Neville family house, she sent him to the suburbs. She also sent her personal maid to take care of Felix.
What was that maid's name?
Irene.
Alexander remembered now.
Caroline did have such a maid. The woman was a bit heavy, didn't talk much, but seemed very gentle, though she was already quite old.
In families like that, after children were born, they would usually be assigned a servant to take care of their daily needs.
These individuals were usually several years older than the young gentlemen and ladies, yet not by a significant margin.
If it was a young lady's personal maid, she would often follow the lady to her husband's family after marriage and continue taking care of her.
Edith had such a maid, named Nancy, five years older than Edith, who stayed by her side all along.
Once Edith had staged her own death, Nancy was let go. As for where she ended up afterward, Alexander had never bothered to investigate.
But Caroline's maid didn't seem to be that kind of person.
When did Irene disappear?
Alexander tried hard to remember.
He gradually reviewed his recollections, piece by piece, even revisiting his history with Edith, until at last he picked up a faint lead.
When Caroline went abroad to study, Irene didn't seem to go with her.
Alexander remembered once going to the Neville mansion and overhearing Damon mention that Caroline was alone abroad without even someone to take care of her.
After Caroline returned home, she married him within a few years.
When she relocated to the Hamilton estate, she took only a few belongings and didn't bring any other people along.
At the time, Alexander hadn't paid any attention to such details. He hadn't even noticed that someone was missing from her side.
Most likely, just like how she arranged for that child, she had already arranged Irene's whereabouts before marrying Alexander.
But from the situation, Irene probably wasn't sent abroad to take care of that child.
Because she herself was quite old, and given Caroline's personality, she wouldn't have sent an older woman alone to a foreign country to care for a young child.
So Caroline most likely first arranged a stable future for Irene, and only after making sure this person wouldn't be involved in anything else did she choose to marry him.
If that was true, calculating from the timeline, if nothing unexpected happened, Irene should still be alive now.
Alexander's heart suddenly began to beat violently.