III. Dahlia and Lambert, Their Way of Love

<VICE VERSA, I >

 

After giving birth to the baby, my mood started to fluctuate. Some days, I felt endlessly excited and happy, while on other days, I sank into bottomless despair. Even after delivering the baby from my body, something continued to ooze out, leaving me sticky and slimy. Wetness would rise intermittently, and I would breastfeed the baby for a long time, yet it seemed to never be enough. Lambert would suckle for a long time, but soon the wetness would return, soaking the bedding and my dress entirely.

All of it felt so heavy and tedious. Yet, at the same time, the presence of the baby, that small and tender being, would sometimes captivate me with an indescribable sense of awe when she suckled my breast. I wanted to see that. A baby girl, they said. They said she resembled me.

“I’m going to name her Ines.”

I declared. Lambert, like he did with my other requests, complied. Being the sole heir of Lambert’s family, their lineage demanded multiple middle names for nobility. If it were a boy, they would combine the names of various ancestors, but for a girl, they would use the names of the mother or grandmother. I wanted to name the child after my mother, but I didn’t want to give her my own name. Thinking of my mother’s name also made me feel sad. However, I firmly believed that Ines could grow up as a happy noblewoman. No, I earnestly hoped for it.

“If you don’t have any other preferred names, should we give Ines my great-aunt’s name as her middle name? Despite never marrying and living her whole life alone, my great-aunt was the one who enjoyed the most in good health in the Hindleton family.”

I nodded at those words. Ines Elizabeth Rose Hindleton. You will have everything. Live a self-determined life. You won’t be trampled by anyone. Inherit everything that your father, Lambert Hindleton, possesses. I silently blessed the child several times in my heart.

Lambert proposed to me and wanted to bring a nearby clergyman to perform the marriage vows, but I was hesitant about everything. I didn’t want to show the constantly flowing milk to anyone. I waited for the moment when the blood, which didn’t cease flowing beneath me, would finally stop. Until just before giving birth to the baby, I had been eagerly indulging in passionate moments with Lambert day and night, but now I felt no desire and became unpleasant and irritable in all matters.

I waited for my body to recover and my mood to improve, and Lambert said he would propose again in the next season. I simply hoped that baby Ines would grow a little faster so that I wouldn’t need my milk anymore. The bleeding seemed to be gradually subsiding. Ines still sought my milk at intervals of a few hours. At one point, I was captivated by a strong desire to remove the blindfold that covered my eyes and see Ines, but I couldn’t. The thought that even if I removed it, I wouldn’t be able to see anything, that this intense darkness had dominated me for ten long years, made me feel suffocated.

“I love you, Dahlia. I love you. And baby Dahlia Ines, I love you too.”

Lambert was always affectionate, but he became even more loving. While taking good care of the baby, he also meticulously attended to me, making sure nothing was lacking. He changed the bandages diligently until my bleeding stopped and used a warm towel soaked in water to gently cleanse my body from head to toe every morning and evening. He nursed me for a long time when my breasts were sore, and I knew well that no one else could provide such delicate care for my body’s pain and discomfort.

However, the swirling whirlwind of heavy and dark emotions that started to dominate me didn’t let go and only intensified my discontent and anxiety. There were days when I didn’t even want to hear the sound of Lambert soothing and comforting the little baby he called Dahlia rather than Ines. Baby Dahlia, it felt like it was only bringing unhappiness to the child.

“Don’t call her that! Her name is Ines!”

One day, I couldn’t hold back and shouted in a burst of anger. Lambert, who had been humming a lullaby, seemed startled. But he always listened to my words, no matter what, so he quickly admitted his mistake and tried not to call the baby, Dahlia, anymore.

“I still feel heavy. I don’t want to eat anything. I don’t want to hear any sound. I don’t even want to hear Ines crying.”

Even though I thought it was unreasonable tantrums, my expression of bad feelings and depression at any time also became frequent. Lambert, who always dealt with my fickle and complaining nature with patience, offered me a warm cup of tea when I refused breakfast and even lunch.

The fragrance was unique. It was a scent I had never smelled before. It’s hard to describe, but as soon as I sniffed it, a subtle and captivating scent that seemed to make my mind hazy and intoxicated wafted through the air.

“I thought drinking this might make you feel better… It’s an herb called Derzville’s Clora…”

Derzville’s Clora. Even the name sounded strange. When I heard that strange pronunciation that evoked the devil’s claws, a chill ran down my spine.

Even though my eyes were still covered, I knew exactly when I should wave my hand to brush away Lambert, who always stood very close and acted as my guide. With one swift motion, I swung my hand and knocked over the teacup. Perhaps the scalding tea would spill all over Lambert’s forearm.

“I hate it! To think you would try to feed me something so dreadful! I curse you, Lambert Hindleton!”

I vaguely remembered hearing that sometimes strange and terrifying names or titles are intentionally given to certain medicinal plants, probably to prevent just anyone from picking them. It was something I heard an older person say. But Derzville’s Clora… It sounded like a sinister whisper harboring a wicked conspiracy.

Lambert remained silent. I wondered if maybe the tea had scalded his skin, but in my mind, a vivid and horrific memory from my childhood surfaced, and I was overwhelmed with suspicion and hatred rather than concern for Lambert.

One afternoon, when I thought nothing bad would happen, the head maid, Madelina, who always held herself superior to us, came in carrying the teapot. Without explaining the reason, she took away the baby who was being cared for by my mother, Lambert’s younger brother, and told my mother to drink this and rest early today.

On the day my mother was first employed as a wet nurse, she had suffered agonizingly until her final moments after drinking a cup of herbal tea that was supposed to promote breast milk production. Because of that, I had made up my mind not to let her drink anything from that teapot. I had planned to secretly dispose of its contents when the opportunity arose, but on that particular day, I was unusually thirsty.

While my mother briefly attended to the baby’s cradle, I took a few sips from the teapot without thinking, simply to quench my thirst.

“No, don’t!”

Before my mother grabbed my wrist and forcefully knocked it out of my hand, I had already swallowed a few sips down my throat. Fear overwhelmed me, and a certain taste seeped into my throat. I felt dizzy and my breathing became rapid. And then, I lost consciousness.

When I regained consciousness, Lambert was shaking me awake. His touch was rough and urgent, unlike before, indicating that he was trying to bring me back to my senses. But I couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t know why I couldn’t open them, and in that state, he insisted that I had to leave. My mother, complying with his words, hastily gathered some worn-out clothes and took hold of my hand. It was strange that I couldn’t open my eyes, but I couldn’t voice it. As I was being dragged along according to my mother’s lead, I endlessly stared in the direction where I believed Lambert was.

After that, my mother and I wandered the streets, and during our days of begging for survival, each day was a precarious balance between life and death. When my mother realized I couldn’t see, she worried, but she had no means to show me to a doctor. The beggars around us said that being blind was advantageous for begging. And so, I became a blind girl.

Unable to endure the winter through begging and homelessness, we eventually entrusted ourselves to the outskirts of Hildesreville, where the worst kind of human scum gathered. My mother tied thick blindfolds over my eyes and made sure they couldn’t be removed, but that was her way of protecting me. She didn’t wash me, and confining me in a cramped and filthy room was the only way she could keep me safe. I knew all of that, but just thinking about it made tears, hot and burning tears, endlessly flow.

Yes, returning to this accursed mansion, this dreadful place filled with all sorts of strange poisonous plants and herbs that can end lives and blind people, wasn’t my choice. Of course, I didn’t come here on my own, and it wasn’t by walking. It was Lambert who suddenly appeared one day and brought me here.

At that time, I believed it was salvation. But with the heavy breasts and the incessant crying of the baby, it all suddenly became burdensome and repulsive. 

“Lambert Hindleton, don’t touch me. I won’t eat anything you give me!”

I continued to act wickedly. I screamed loudly. Even after the intense aroma of Derzville’s Clora, which he tried to make me drink, had completely dissipated, it still penetrated the cells of my sense of smell. My mood worsened even more. Due to my screaming, Ines, who was sleeping in the same room, woke up and started crying loudly as well.

“Noisy! It’s too noisy! I don’t want to hear it! Everything is terrible! This place is cursed, and I don’t want to live like this! Kill me!”

Suddenly overwhelmed by fear and a sense of unknown despair, I continued to scream like a madwoman, covering my ears and pleading.