The Gentleman of Greenstoke

XXI.

"What a comfortable warm breeze," Elizabeta spoke to herself as she walked through the town. The day before, the weather had been unforgivable, but this day, the warmness was enclosing her form. Her master had asked – one does not simply order Miss Héderváry around, even if her employer has every right to do so – her to buy something for supper. She had noticed his friendly demeanour, his light-hearted mood – just the same features she had seen in Sakura's face, although the Japanese was always friendly. Elizabeta was certain that both had finally cleared the misunderstanding between them – the carriage-ride from the Beilschmidt's ball had been extremely tense, but the ball itself was a delightful experience for the Hungarian and her Japanese friend.

A small smile graced her lips as she remembered that evening; she had danced twice and to her astonishment: she had buried the hatchet with Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt. Something she had never thought she would achieve.

"Miss Héderváry?"

Her feet stopped abruptly, her head shooting up to the man in front of her. His red eyes were widened, his mouth agape.

"Y-you look lovely."

She blinked, not familiar with him paying her compliments so openly in the public. "T-thank you."

It was silent afterwards, only the smile on the Prussian's blushing face suggested his happiness of seeing her – clearly confounding the young cook. As she focused back on her former thoughts, Elizabeta decided to speak again.

"I know we have come to the agreement of being friendly to each other, but you don't need to pay any compliments," she suggested, hoping that his former sentence was being said due to the rules of social interactivity. Although Elizabeta had to admit that he looked quite adorable with his reddened cheeks and grinning face.

"Oh . . . But it's the truth."

Now she was the one who was flustered. Lately, the man had turned from completely obnoxious to shy and friendly – but only in her presence, she had noticed. As long as no other persons were approaching them, he would remain as such.

"Oh Gil – . . . Miss Héderváry? What a delightful convenience to meet you here!"

"Roderich," Gilbert acknowledged, but it was easy to detect the annoyed tone in his voice.

Before Elizabeta greeted the Austrian, she quickly hid the basket behind her back and hoped that he would not question her attire.

"M-Mr Edelstein." She wore a smile, not noticing the piercing eyes of her Prussian companion. "What are you doing here?"

"My cousin Gilbert wanted to take a stroll and I decided to join him –"

"You did not even ask me; you just came along, Roddy!"

"– And I am glad to have taken such a decision, otherwise I would not have met you here. Say, Miss Héderváry, what is such a lovely Lady doing here on her own?"

"She has to endure your annoying speeches! That is the cause of her being here!"

Roderich pushed the glasses up his nose bridge before addressing his cousin, "Gilbert, why are you interrupting our conversation?"

"I am not . . . ," he declared with crossed arms and a frown on his visage. His cousin only shook his head.

"You are insufferable, Gilbert."

The brunette female stared at the quarrelling party; once again she was reminded of the past evening, where the two had verbally fought over her – something she had not often witnessed: no one was interested in a servant, although Mr Edelstein was unaware of her occupation . . . But his Prussian cousin was not.

"Would you like to accompany me for a while?"

Panic took over her body, as she remembered the basket behind her back; how could she hide it further when he would want to walk with her? Her pleading eyes glanced to Gilbert who was still very engaged in his foul mood.

Gilbert was still enraged of his cousin's attempt of courting the woman he came to love – yes, he had finally admitted that he was in love with her and would prevent his cousin from successfully winning her heart. As his eyes fell back on the brunette, he couldn't stop the heat from rising to his face. She looked absolutely beautiful and her pleading look was all she needed to do to make him forget the world. The man thought of the basket behind her back that would disclose her occupation to his cousin. She wanted to avoid that at all costs – and he would help her. He sometimes wondered how much control his feelings towards her had.

"Miss Héderváry is still wearing a basket that had fallen to the ground. Apparently a servant of a rich household had not noticed that it fell," he said, quickly taking the basket from her hands. Their fingers brushed – even if it lasted for less than a second, the contact was accelerating his heartbeat.

"How can a servant forget or not notice that?" Roderich uttered, "What incompetence."

"W-well . . . ," Elizabeta muttered upon hearing the slight angered tone in his voice; she was becoming uncertain about herself. The Austrian did not notice her odd reaction and offered her his arm as they distanced themselves from his cousin who looked defeated; left alone with a basket in his hands. All he wanted to do was spending time with the woman who had become one of the most important persons in his life.

"I know this seems quite forward, but I must admit that I find you very delightful," Roderich suddenly spoke, "you are a wonderful woman, Miss Héderváry."

The Hungarian froze after those words; for half an hour they had spoken of the weather, the recent ball and the servant who had forgotten the basket. Although the former topics were being voiced during a nice conversation, the latter was worrying Elizabeta and she wished to be in Mr Beilschmidt company, who could help her. She herself was rather impressed by her own feelings that she wished him near her. Even if Mr Edelstein was a gentleman in every way, some aspects of his character and behaviour were unsettling her. The way his nostrils moved whenever he was mentioning the basket of the servant, how he wiped his head whenever he was speaking of the ball and his quirk of touching his glasses to push them back to their original place on his nose bridge. It were small details, but Elizabeta detected them nonetheless and she resumed that the arrogance ran in their family line, although the older Mr Beilschmidt had decreased the amount of his bragging nature whenever he was in her presence. In spite of her former hatred towards the Prussian man, her mind drifted to the precious evening, when the two were dancing . . . How he had gazed at her with such a lovely look that her face was becoming extremely rosy.

'Good Grace . . . no,' she thought, 'I cannot be smitten by this man.' The denial was present inside her mind, but her reddened cheeks and accelerated heart were clearly showing her growing emotions to the man she had vowed to hate. She steadied her head with her hands, desperate to avoid thinking about Mr Gilbert Beilschmidt who somehow had affected her more than she liked to acknowledge. And it dawned on her when she was in presence of his cousin who was declaring his disapproval of servants.

"Miss Héderváry, are you feeling unwell?"

"N-no," she answered before realising that he had paid her a compliment minutes ago, "Thank you for your kind words."

"It is the truth, Miss, you are an extraordinary woman." He smiled softly. "You even impressed my dear cousin and believe me when I say that he is rarely smitten by the Ladies of our society."

Gilbert had observed them since they had left him; a strange feeling settled down in his stomach as he noticed Elizabeta's blush. He sighed, feeling disheartened by this new development. Of course his cousin would receive the attention of the woman that had caught Gil's interest – and heart. Whenever women had to choose between him and Roderich, the Austrian was always the favourite company of them. Gilbert never stood a chance against him and even if he had felt challenged the previous night, this day proved to dim his high-spirits when he felt his heart aching at the sight of the two of them. Though he wore a fake smile the moment the two neared them again, displaying his insecurity once again with his arrogant façade; one that Elizabeta had long since seen through.
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[A/N: Poor Prussia ;A; but Lizzie is finally acknowledging her own feelings >:D]