Pride, Narcissism and Prejudice- chapter 30
"Oh my poor nerves! Lord Hara! Lord Hara!"
Lady Hara's shouts resounded throughout the house, making her husband look up from his correspondence in mild irritation.
Mai and Masako, who had taken advantage of the lady's excursion in town to sit with their father in the morning room, stopped their embroidery to share a look of surprise. Lady Hara's usually came back from her stroll with fresh gossip. What sort of news could she have heard to be riled up so early in the day?
The lady appeared in the doorframe, her complexion an unhealthy shade of puce, clutching her heart in an apoplectic manner.
"Lord Hara, Masako, there you are! Oh this is terrible, terrible!"
The sisters' curiosity morphed into alarm at the sight of their mother. Masako got up immediately to help her sit down while Mai rang the bell to call for Jenkins. Both were used to the theatrics, but Lady Hara seemed genuinely affected this time, panting and struggling for air.
"What happened my dear?" Lord Hara asked, quite startled himself by his wife's state of disarray.
The lady slumped ungracefully on the chair Masako was leading her to, fanning herself uselessly with her handkerchief.
"You will not believe it. I have-" Her head bobbed right and left in utter desolation -" terrible news to share!"
"Mother, I beg of you, do tell us what is affecting you so greatly!" Masako implored, growing more and more agitated herself.
The timid voice of Jenkins dared interrupt the pandemonium.
"You rang miss?" she asked Mai hesitantly, staring wide-eyed at her usually scary but currently weeping employer, who was very uncharacteristically half sprawled on her chair.
"Indeed, please fetch a cup of tea for Lady Hara immediately," Mai commanded, leaving it to Lord Hara and Masako to try to wrangle a coherent explanation out of her mother. "Oh, and add some brandy to it," she added after a worried glance at the lady.
Jenkins bowed and promptly left. As soon as she passed the door Lady Hara started crying.
"Oh my poor Masako," she sobbed. "The Yasuharas…"
The mention of their friends had the two sisters gasp in horror, fearing for their friends' wellbeing. Were they ill, or did they suffer some accident? Even Lord Hara frowned, concerned.
"The Yasuharas?" he prompted, the room suddenly very still.
Lady Hara hammered her answer through ragged exhales and sobs. "They... They left Netherfield... just... yesterday!"
Masako and Mai released the breath they had been holding and stared at her mother reproachfully for giving them such a scare.
Lord Hara's concern vanished immediately before the lack of actual catastrophe. "Is that all?" he asked in disbelief. "You had me fear someone was on his deathbed! The Yasuhara fellow going on a business trip is nothing to lament about, from what I know he does that pretty often," he grumbled before returning to his correspondence, feeling foolish for having taken his wife's theatrics seriously.
"No, no! You do not understand the gravity of the situation!" Lady Hara insisted, waving her handkerchief frantically. "They left for good!"
Lord Hara merely shrugged. "Still not a matter of life and death. We did quite well before their arrival, and the new neighbours may entertain you as much," he snapped, sitting back on his chair to show he didn't want to partake in the ridiculousness of the scene anymore.
"But they left Masako behind!" Lady Hara shouted in a last bout of indignation.
Her comment was lost on her husband who was already absorbing himself in the content of his letter.
It felt, however, like a slap for her daughters. Masako became so pale that Mai went to her side, fearing she would faint.
Her reaction had Lady Hara to suddenly straighten up in her armchair to grab Masako's trembling hand. "Masako," she breathed, hope shining in her feverish gaze. "Could it be…"
She licked her dry lips, eyes set on her daughter so intently she looked almost insane. "Masako," she resumed, "have you, by any chance…have you concluded… you and Yasuhara, could it be… "
The question was left untold, but both sisters understood it perfectly. Masako took a few breaths before shaking her head and averting her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment her answer was about to bring.
"Nothing of the sort, Mother," she said in a strangled whisper. "We are not and have never been formally engaged."
Lady Hara fell back into her armchair and let go of her daughter's hand, releasing a long and dramatic wail.
"That wretched Shibuya!" She sobbed. "If only he hadn't persuaded Yasuhara to leave!"
"Shibuya?"
The name left Mai's lips in a grief-stricken cry before she could help it. Thankfully Lady Hara was too focused on her own desperation to notice the oddness of Mai's reaction.
"Their laundry maid told me." She sniffled. "Shibuya had to leave, good riddance, but he made the Yasuharas follow him. On such short notice! How could he, that… that horrible man! All is his fault!"
Once again the old lady surrendered to desolation, impervious to her husband's annoyed stares and her ghastly pale, shaken daughters.
Naru.
Yasuhara was gone and it was because of him.
Mai's hands fumbled to clutch the back of the chair before her, her legs threatening to give out. Her ears were ringing and her head was spinning with unanswered questions.
What had Naru done? What had she done?
Had they left because of her treatment of him?
Was it her fault?
Her heart turned to lead as she begun to decipher the situation. Naru hadn't lied that night. His last words had been his farewell indeed.
Yasuhara wouldn't ask for Masako's hand.
And it may have been her doing.
As she regained her bearings Mai realized that her sister, taking advantage of Jenkins' return with a fuming cup of tea, had excused herself with admirable countenance and was now fleeing the scene.
Mai ran after her without even bothering with manners, leaving behind her adoptive father to deal with his wife and her litany of cries about the unfairness of the situation and the impossibility to find a better suitor in their county.
She caught up with her sister in the middle of the staircase.
"Masako!" she called, breathless.
Masako slowed her pace and stilled, facing the floor upstairs to avoid looking at Mai, her back unnaturally straight.
"Masako-", she repeated, softly this time.
She approached her sister and quietly took her arm. Masako smiled, in a way that would have appeared quite natural for most, but that Mai could tell was strained.
"Do not worry on my account Mai," she said, her face still stubbornly looking away. "The situation does not affect me as greatly as you seem to think. I shall miss the former residents of Netherfield, naturally, their company was most pleasant. But they were nothing more than strangers to us after all, and I see no harm in things staying this way."
Mai shook her head, the gesture lost on her sister. "I do not believe any of those words. I know what tender feelings you harbour toward Yasuhara. And I am fairly certain he holds similar ones for you."
Masako let out a sound between a sigh and a laugh. Her mouth contorted in a wry, desolate smile. "If he did, he would not have left so suddenly, without even a word for me."
Mai opened her mouth to retort, but found herself unable to utter a word. She could have spared Masako the shock of discovering Yasuhara wasn't to ask for her hand, yet two days after hearing about it from Naru she hadn't gathered the courage to crush her sister's dreams still. It was because of her cowardliness that Masako was in such a situation. What right had she to comfort her?
So she just tightened her grasp on Masako's bristling arm, wishing this simple gesture would convey all the feelings her voice couldn't.
Masako's shoulders slumped under the touch and she finally turned to face her, unable to completely hide the sadness behind the stretch of her lips this time.
"No," she denied as she delicately but firmly pried her arm out of Mai's hands. "We must simply admit that we have been mistaken in our assumptions, and that his behaviour toward me was simply the expression of fraternal-like affection, and nothing more. Really Mai, I am feeling perfectly fine. Now please let me go, I feel the need to be alone for some time."
Mai's heart sank as she let her hand fall back limply at her side, watching Masako's back go further and further away. She didn't try to stop her, nor did she offer any consolation.
How could words alleviate the grief of a broken heart anyway?
—
It was enough, Mai decided.
A week had passed since the uproar caused by the Yasuharas' departure, and things seemed to have returned to normal at home.
Lady Hara was bedridden, moaning every passing second about the loss of the rich and handsome suitor and terrorizing the poor Jenkins, who had to replace Masako who her mother couldn't bear to see.
Lord Hara was gleefully spending his days in the peaceful privacy of his office, or in the morning room now devoid of the presence of his wife.
And Masako…
Masako was behaving as usual. She was being polite, demure, her chiseled features always drawing the perfect picture of the emotions she was expected to show. She smiled at jokes, widened her eyes appropriately at surprising news, frowned when the discussed matter required disapproving. She was acting perfectly unaffected. Too perfectly.
She may be able to fool everybody else, but she couldn't dupe her. Mai could tell she was still heartbroken.
It had been difficult to leave Masako by herself to grieve. Her sister deserved an explanation, and a shoulder to cry on, and Mai had wanted more than anything to offer the two. But she could also sympathize with the need to sort her thoughts by herself and let time soften the shock, so she had given her the privacy she wanted.
But now Mai had enough. Enough of the sorrowful atmosphere. Enough of the guilt eating at her, enough of the secrets which seemed to constantly come between her and her friends. Enough of leaving her sister in the dark about Shibuya and what had transpired at Netherfield's ball. Enough of Masako pretending.
She needed to speak to her.
The opportunity arose when she spotted Masako putting her hat on in the parlor, a light shawl on her shoulders. The day was too young and her attire too simple for visiting, so the young woman was most probably going out for a stroll.
"Are you perhaps going on a walk?" she asked.
Masako nodded, her hands fastening the ribbons of her hat under her chin. Mai put the basket with her embroidery supplies on a nearby chair and hastily grabbed her own hat.
"What a wonderful coincidence, I happen to need to visit a few shops in Merryton -"
"I am not going to Merryton," Masako interrupted, patting the artful bow she had just made. "I just plan for a little stroll in the fields."
That didn't deter Mai in the least. "Is that so? Well, I feel like taking some exercise myself," she said while tying her ribbons haphazardly, not wanting to leave her sister the time to find an excuse to go without her.
Masako narrowed her eyes at her. "I would have thought the hour too early for your taste."
"Not at all," Mai lied with a blinding smile. "I enjoy the peace offered by the wee morning. I hope you do not mind my coming with you."
It wasn't a question, so Masako could only nod and sigh at the hurried way her friend was getting clothed for their walk.
"Take a shawl," she instructed when Mai made a move to pass the door. "The air is still crisp in this season."
Mai complied, chuckling fondly. Even the annoyance in her tone couldn't hide Masako's caring underneath.
"Here, shall we go now?"
Masako nodded and both geared toward the door.
The weather was indeed breezy despite the cloudless sky, and in these early hours of the morning the fields were basked in a misty fog the timid sunshine hadn't managed to dissipate.
Mai tightened her shawl around her shoulders, grateful she had listened to Masako's piece of advice, and inhaled deeply, feeling her anxiousness dissolve in the peaceful atmosphere. The golden colours of the scenery, the delicate warmth the sun was dusting on her cheeks and the soft chirping of the birds were a balm to her tormented soul, putting her mind and heart at ease.
Masako was walking beside her in silence, her features serene and unusually open.
"What a beautiful landscape," Mai breathed. "Had I any talent, I would have made it a painting."
"I do not think a painting could do it justice," her sister remarked in a soft, even tone. "The merit of the scenery is to be alive, fixing its colours on a canva would simply kill its magic."
"Then I am glad that I am here to enjoy it with you, for we can share this moment and its memory."
Masako hummed in agreement, and the two sisters walked for a little while in a companionable silence, the sound of pebbles rolling under their feet the only telltale of their presence in the fields.
"I came to understand why you savor these morning walks," Mai sighed softly, admiring the swirling colours of the sky.
"Do you, really?" Masako muttered. "Or did you use this excuse to have a talk with me?"
Mai smiled sheepishly. Considering how unsubtle her behaviour generally was, it was no surprise Masako had seen through her pretending.
"Both, to speak with honesty," she said gaily while taking her sister by the arm. "I do want to have a word with you, but being here really soothes my aching heart."
Masako frowned, confused. "Aching heart?"
Mai's smile vanished. "We shall have the long tour if you want me to explain from the very beginning. For now, I shall simply say that your grief is related to mine."
"My grief?" Masako exhaled sharply. "Mai, I already told you that there was none involved-"
She stopped short when her sister suddenly let go of her arm to turn and block her path, her expression serious.
"Stop this nonsense!" Mai cried. "I already told you that I do not believe those words."
Masako shook her head and opened her mouth to deliver yet another denial, but the determined, pained stare of her friend was enough for her to reconsider. Conflicting emotions animated her usually stoic features until resignation settled in.
"Neither do I," she admitted. "But what else shall I say on the matter? Pride is the only thing I have left."
Pride.
Mai tried to conjure the sudden image of a livid, dripping Naru leaving her house with his back straight and his head high after she had been too prideful to accept him. Or the dignity of a dashing Shibuya inviting her for a dance, rescuing her from both gossip and prejudice. Naru biding her farewell, his gaze troubled and his lips hot on her wrist.
Pride.
What good had it ever done?
"What happened to the Masako who told me to listen to my heart's command?" she asked softly.
Masako resumed her walk, seemingly absorbing herself in the contemplation of a faraway patch of wildflowers.
"She realised her own heart was not as sound as yours."
Mai followed suit, smothering a wry laugh. If she knew the real state of her heart right now, her sister may reconsider her statement.
"Even the most unsound heart has its inclination," she remarked.
Masako stayed mute, but her lips pressed together into a thin line.
"There is no need to pretend with me," Mai insisted. "You love him, I know it."
"And what if I do?" Masako asked flatly. "Would admitting it shield me from the pitying stares or the whispered gossip of our acquaintances? Would it make Mother less miserable? What would it change, except give them a reason to talk?"
Mai halted her steps and grabbed the hem of Masako's shawl. Her sister stopped and shot her a challenging look, as if daring her to say otherwise.
Mai clenched her fists, both angry and saddened by the impossible situation her sister was in. She was aware that their social circle had its eyes set on Masako, avidly awaiting for the slightest faux-pas, and that Masako could only conceal her emotions to avoid their feeding on her turmoil. But she certainly didn't want to let her sister suffocate under the stifling pressure of their expectations.
"You could simply acknowledge it to me," Mai suggested in a gentle plea. "Then, you would not have to bear this sorrow alone."
Masako's defiance slowly morphed into hesitation at her words. "It is… I am afraid that acknowledging it even once, even to you, will shatter my resolve," she conceded in a strangled whisper. "I cannot afford it."
Mai reached for her hand and squeezed it lightly, encouraging her to continue. Despite the warmth the sunlight was pouring onto them Masako's hand was as cold as ice.
The silence stretched for a minute, only interrupted by the melodious chirping of the birds and the buzzing of some stray bee.
Masako finally spoke, her voice unsteady.
"I cannot help but wonder, should I have told him more clearly how deep was my attachment to him? Would have it been enough for him to stay? Or was his inclination a mere passing feeling, already forgotten? I think too highly of him to even consider I have been played, so the only explanation I can muster is that he simply lost interest in me. And I-" she shook her head, tears now freely spilling on her cheeks, "-I cannot bear the thought."
"Masako…"
Mai felt on the verge of tears, frustrated by the unfairness of the situation. Her sister had finally found someone she could give her unadulterated affection to, someone who could elicit strong enough feelings from her that she would shed tears. But this person was now gone without any mention of return.
She shouldn't have been the one walking with Masako in this bucolic landscape bathed in sunlight. No, this place was for Yasuhara. Would he ever stand at her side?
"We were dancing and laughing together just two days before," Masako resumed, "yet he did not uttered a word about his leaving. He didn't even come to say his goodbyes! This speaks well enough about how unimportant I have become in his eyes."
"No." Mai shook her head vehemently and gently wiped her sister's tears. "He used to look at you in such a manner, that I will never believe his feelings for you were anything but tender."
Masako sniffled a last time, already reining her emotions in. "He would not have left it they were."
Mai hesitated a second, her conversation with Naru about Yasuhara's intentions toward Masako weighing heavily on her mind. She glanced at her sister's uncharacteristically puffy eyes and wondered briefly if she should tell her about it, or bury the memory in the depth of her mind to not add to her burden.
No, she decided, Masako deserved to know the truth.
"I cannot say what the exact reason of his departure is, for I do not know. However-" she cleared her throat and steeled her resolve, "However, I was told that his circumstances did not allow him to ask for your hand. I surmise cutting ties with us was his way of preserving you, so you did not wait for an hypothetical return."
She glanced at Masako warily, already dreading the question which would inevitably follow.
"You were...told?" Masako was making a valiant effort to talk calmly despite her growing agitation. "Who could have-" Her gaze suddenly lit in understanding. "Did Madoka, by any chance-"
"No."
Mai took a deep breath, deliberately ignoring the way her chest constricted at the mere mention of the gentleman. "It was Naru."
After a moment of shocked silence Masako seemed to regain the ability to speak. "Naru, you mean Shibuya?"
Mai nodded.
"Why would he…" Masako looked unsettled, torn between the trust she naturally had in her sister and the doubt the unexpected source of her statement was inducing. "Do you trust his words?" she finally asked in disbelief. "Considering he has already deceived us at least once-"
"I am certain he said the truth."
Mai had spoken barely louder than a whisper, yet her admission seemed to rang deafeningly loud.
Masako's didn't inquire about her reasons to suddenly trust a man she had sworn she despised. She simply stood quiet, her features unreadable.
"What else did he tell you?"
"Nothing much." Mai's throat was painfully tight, giving her voice a raspy tone. "Only that Yasuhara had his hands tied, from what I could gather."
"I see. May I ask why you kept quiet about it?"
The question didn't hold any animosity, but Mai felt shameful about her silence nonetheless. If only she had spoken, back then...
She felt Masako's hand gently grip her own.
"Did Shibuya… Did he perhaps threaten you?"
"No," Mai shook her head, "he did nothing of the sort."
No, she realised, Naru had never done anything hurtful to her. She had neither connections, position, nor wealth, he could have easily ensured her silence about his secret by bribing or threatening her. But instead of getting rid of her, he chose to disregard his own probable resentment toward the woman who so rejected him so harshly to shield her from their peers' prejudice. To spare her feelings, he had ignored his.
Mai wanted to cry. She had been so blind.
She closed her eyes, unable to deal with the guilt and mortification drawn by the realisation. "It was my own cowardliness which stopped me from breaching the matter with you" she confessed. "I was afraid to bring you pain and disappointment. Also…Also, I feared they left because of me, and that I was responsible for the ruin of your happiness."
"You?" Masako raised incredulous eyebrows. "Ruining my happiness? What could have given you such a ridiculous idea?"
"It did not seem ridiculous in the least!" Mai defended. "Well, not until I realised he was not this sort of person…" she amended. "Naru- I mean, Shibuya- and me…" She let out a frustrated growl. "I do not even know where to start!"
"The very beginning sounds like a reasonable starting point."
Mai didn't even berate her sister for her dry humour, already lost in her explanation.
"I acted without thinking, because, would you believe it, this idiot asked for my hand, at the worst moment, and in the most terrible way I must say-"
"He what?" Masako almost shouted , an owlish look betraying her incredulity. "Mai, when-"
"- My state of mind at the time was not exactly suited to welcome such a proposal, not so soon after rejecting my cousin, not after hearing about his false identity, and it made me so angry that I acted like a fool and-"
"Wait, Mai!" cried Masako to stop her sister's rant. "I beg of you to calm down!"
"I cannot!" Mai answered in kind. "I rejected him so harshly, and so unfairly, all because of my wounded pride. I refused to hear his explanations, I trampled his feelings, I told him the most horrible things. In my anger I told Naru I was aware of his deception, it was not my intention to let him know, but…"
Masako's gaze softened as she finally understood.
"Did you believe he left because you knew of his secret? And that it was enough of a reason for Yasuhara to follow him?"
"I-" Mai put her head in her hands. "I did believe it. But I am not sure anymore."
"I do not think you are responsible for their departure. And in the case you were," Masako said while gently prying Mai's hands from her face, "we should not regret they left, for it would mean they were not worthy of our trust and affection. Now," she added with a thunderous gleam in her eyes, "you have to tell me in detail what happened with Shibuya."
So Mai confessed everything to her, from Naru's disastrous proposal to his farewell during the ball.
"He was right," she breathed once she had related their overly complicated story to an equally bewildered and indignant Masako. "I accused him of being too prideful when I was the one who let pride dictate my actions. My treatment of him was the most unfair."
"It was certainly not unjust to reject him," her sister objected hotly, still peeved by the so-called gentleman's behaviour. "Not because his proposal was awkward, if not awful, but because he did lie to us. To you. You were absolutely right in telling him hiding his identity from you was ungentlemanly!"
"But I rejected him in such a manner that I can only think of it with mortification now. I proved to be obtuse and unyielding, I disregarded his feeling, which I came to understand, were sincere. At the ball-"
Mai had to pause, overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories from that night. "-At the ball, I finally realised the extent of my unfairness. I could tell how much I hurt him."
Masako sighed softly, her resent toward the man ebbing before her sister's genuine remorse. "It would have been fairer to let him explain his motives indeed. You were both at fault, and both right in your accusations. I must admit that his later behaviour casts another light on his character."
"I almost wish I had not seen this side of him," Mai mumbled, absentmindedly rolling a pebble under her shoe, "for I cannot despise him now that I did." Her lips stretched into a half-bitter, half-indulgent smile. "What a sly man, he managed to have the last word, once again."
"Mai," Masako started hesitantly, probing her friend's reaction, "what you said earlier about our grieves being related, did you imply… did you imply that they are of a similar nature?"
Mai raised her dejected gaze to meet her sister's enquiring one. She could still feel the remorse and longing coursing through her veins when Shibuya had left her after the ball. She could still feel the softness of his lips brushing her pulse. She could still feel the erratic beating of her heart, the fire his troubled gaze and parting words had lit in her heart. Denying her feelings would be fighting a losing battle.
"I fear they are," she replied in a broken whisper. "And that I misjudged him."
Masako's dark eyes softened in sympathy.
"We are both fools," she said, and snatched a flower from a thornbush. "Longing for such secretive men."
"We are," Mai agreed in a resigned sigh.
"It is a shame that Takigawa is not available anymore, I would have chosen him for myself. Mother would have been delighted."
"Masako!"
Mai sent her sister a scandalized look. Masako could only keep her serious expression for a short moment before she burst into laughter.
"So gullible," she managed between giggles.
Mai's incredulous expression slowly left place to a grin which turned into bubbling laughter.
Soon enough the two of them were bent in half, letting the fit of uncontrollable mirth wash their sorrow away.
"You are impossible," Mai muttered after her last giggles died down.
"Yes," Masako replied quite proudly, wiping her tears in a careless manner.
"I am glad I have you by my side."
Masako smiled affectionately as her arm linked with Mai's.
"I shall not leave it until we find another Takigawa for ourselves," she joked, bumping her sister's hip lightly.
"We could beg Ayako to give us some advice about snatching men of his kind," Mai replied in kind. "I am afraid I only know how to reject them."
Her smile fell as she remembered. "Their wedding is drawing near."
"I know."
"I will miss Ayako immensely."
"So will I. But for now," Masako said wisely, "we shall just look forward to what is to come. I think this trip to Hertfordshire in a few weeks is most timely. A few days far away from Netherfield and its memories sounds extremely appealing."
"My cousins shall provide enough distraction with their bickering," Mai chuckled. "Being the witness their matrimonial bliss may have us think twice about marriage."
With that the two sisters headed back home, walking arm in arm at a leisurely pace.