The weeks following the encounter at the Bridge of Whispers felt like an intoxicating melody for Edric. The world that once seemed empty and predictable was now filled with new, forbidden notes. The unspoken pact beneath the moonlight had bound him to Celia, and he surrendered himself completely to the consuming desire. They began to meet secretly, in hidden corners of the city, in secluded gardens at dusk, or in dark alleys known only to Celia.
Every meeting was a new freedom for Edric. Celia, with her captivating smile and eyes that held endless longing, was the perfect antithesis to the life arranged for him. He learned about Celia's harsh and simple world—a world that cared nothing for the Thornleigh name or concert schedules—and how alive he felt within it. Celia asked for nothing, only his company, and a shared understanding of the soul's thirst. In Celia's secret embrace, Edric felt more real, more alive, more true to himself than he ever did on the grandest stage.
However, this secret melody began to create dissonance in the symphony of his ordered life. Edric started to conspicuously absent himself from social events that were previously mandatory. Dinner invitations from art patrons were declined with excuses of headaches or fatigue. Invitations for tea from noble families were ignored. Even his piano practice sessions were often cut short, his mind drifting to when he could slip away to meet Celia. His concert in Paris, once the peak of his ambition, now felt like a burden hindering his newfound freedom.
The changes in Edric did not go unnoticed. His father, Alaric Thornleigh, began to cast sharp glances and ask piercing questions about his commitment. However, the first to realize it deeply was Lady Lilian Elowen Ashcroft.
One afternoon, Lilian came to visit Edric at the Thornleigh residence, unannounced. Edric had just returned from a brief meeting with Celia and was still dressed in somewhat dishevelled clothes. He tried to cover his tracks, but his dreamy and rather hurried expression was enough for Lilian.
"Edric," Lilian's voice sounded colder than usual as she met him in the drawing-room. "You seem to be frequently absent lately. Your father is wondering. And I... I am starting to worry."
Edric attempted a smile, "Ah, Lilian. Just a little tired. Paris preparations are quite draining."
"A lie," Lilian stated, her blue eyes sharp. "You no longer practice as hard as before. You often appear distracted or rushed. You decline social invitations. This is not you, Edric. This is not the Maestro Thornleigh I know." Lilian stepped closer, her hand reaching out to grasp Edric's, but her touch felt cold, full of suspicion. "Is there a problem? Is there... another woman?"
The question hit Edric like a lightning bolt. He pulled his hand away from Lilian's grip. "Lilian! What are you saying? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous." His tone was too sharp, too defensive. He immediately regretted it. "I... I'm just struggling with a new composition. Sometimes, the mind needs freedom from demands."
Lilian did not waver. Her eyes remained fixed on him. "I hope so, Edric. Because if there is anything else... I will not tolerate it. And my family, as well as your father, will not tolerate it." Lilian delivered the warning calmly, yet every word felt like a subtle threat. After that, she turned and left, leaving Edric alone in the suffocating silence of the drawing-room, with Lilian's suspicion feeling very real and menacing.
Lilian wasted no time. That very night, she recounted her suspicions to her father, Sir Edmund William Ashcroft, and Alaric Thornleigh. Sir Edmund listened with a serious expression, occasionally nodding.
Alaric, on the other hand, initially scoffed. "Nonsense, Lilian," he snorted, dismissing the suspicion. "Edric is an ambitious pianist. He would not risk everything for a momentary thrill. He knows his position." Alaric Thornleigh believed more in calculation and ambition than in feelings. He saw Edric's attraction to a poor woman as a fleeting weakness, not a serious threat.
However, Lilian persisted. She insisted, providing details about Edric's behavioral changes. Finally, Sir Edmund, ever the pragmatist, decided not to take any chances. "Regardless, Alaric, it's better to know. The Thornleigh and Ashcroft reputations cannot be trifled with. I will hire a private investigator. Someone professional who will not draw attention."
Several weeks passed in a tension that enveloped Edric. He still managed to sneak away to meet Celia, but the shadow of Lilian's suspicion and his father's potential actions began to haunt him. He knew he was playing with fire. Then, one evening, Alaric summoned Edric to his study. On the desk lay a neatly bound report.
"I know about that woman, Edric," Alaric said, his voice cold, his eyes fixed sharply on Edric. "A honey deliverywoman. Celia Bennett. What were you thinking? You're jeopardizing everything we've built!" Alaric slammed the report down, its contents detailing Edric's secret meetings with Celia. "This must end. Now."
"Father, you don't understand—" Edric tried to defend himself.
"I understand more than you think!" Alaric cut him off. "That woman, she will only be a stumbling block. But I have a way to ensure she no longer bothers you. I have a plan."
Alaric did not elaborate on his plan to Edric. Instead, a few days later, Edric received an unexpected visit from William Richard. William, an athletic man with a mischievous grin and messy brown hair, was Edric's old childhood friend. They had once been close, often sharing small adventures and mischief that frustrated their tutors. However, William had chosen a freer path, often seen in nightclubs and "different" social circles—which was why Alaric called him a "rebel." William had never been bound by social rules like Edric.
"Edric, old friend!" William exclaimed, patting Edric's shoulder familiarly when they met at the Thornleigh residence. "Long time no see. Your father said you needed some entertainment. I hear you've caught the eye of a new woman." His eyes twinkled slyly.
In the following days, William deliberately sought out Celia. He met her at the market, offering her money, promises of a better life, even trying to charm her with sweet words—all under Alaric's instructions to "tempt" Celia into betraying Edric. William, accustomed to women easily swayed by wealth or promises, was confident Celia would succumb. However, Celia adamantly refused, even with real fear in her eyes. She rejected all of William's offers.
That night, Celia met Edric at their secret rendezvous spot, her face pale. "Edric... your friend... William Richard. He came to me. He... he tried to tempt me into leaving you. He offered me money, promises..." Celia recounted everything, her eyes reflecting terror.
Edric listened, his gaze turning cold. William. His own friend. And his father. A fury burned in his chest. Yet, strangely, a flicker of doubt crept in. Would William truly do something so low? And why was Celia so afraid?
"No, Celia," Edric said, his voice now filled with sadness and a hint of... disbelief. He took Celia's hand, trying to reassure her. "William wouldn't do that. He's my friend. He... he was just joking. Perhaps he was drunk. Or maybe he just wanted to test me. He would never be serious."
Celia looked at him, her eyes filled with pain and misunderstanding. She tried to explain, "No, Edric... he was serious. He said your father sent him. He said... it was for your own good..."
But Edric was already shaking his head. "No. That's impossible. My father would never involve William in something like this. And William... he's not that type of person. Trust me, my dear. It must be a misunderstanding."
Celia could only remain silent, her face pale, her eyes filled with hurt. Edric was too blinded by his infatuation and his faith in the people of his own world to see the bitter truth. He embraced Celia, trying to dispel her fear, unaware that he had just denied a truth that would haunt him later. The symphony of dissonance had just begun.