Chapter 700 Oliver, I'm Here for You
Natalie had never seen Oliver in such a state before. It was unfamiliar and worrisome to her.
"Oliver, I'm right here with you," she said, turning to embrace him with her free hand, hoping to offer some comfort in this manner.
Oliver glanced down, returned her embrace, and patted her back, saying, "I'm all right. Let's go, we should head inside."
The Windsor family's long-standing butler, dressed in a black frock coat, stood at the entrance to greet Oliver and Natalie. His attire against the stark, white background of the old house gave off an out-of-place feeling in the modern world.
After Henry's trusted inner circle dispersed upon learning of his past crimes, only the family's old butler remained. Although the butler had served Henry for many years and harbored a degree of compassion for him, he was ultimately loyal to Oliver.
"Master Oliver," the butler said, "all of Henry's confidants left after discovering his heinous acts, leaving only myself from the old staff. My lady, we are short on staff now, with only twelve servants, all of whom are presently occupied. This is why I am the only one to welcome you, and I ask for your understanding." He gestured politely for them to enter.
"Ma'am, your outfit might not be quite appropriate," the attendant said cautiously, "we've prepared some clothes over here. Do you need to change?"
Natalie was clad in a shimmering mermaid-cut miniskirt, a deep crimson that was jarring for attending a funeral. Oliver, who predominantly wore dark colors, did not face such an issue, and he was dressed appropriately that day.
"There's no need," Oliver responded before Natalie could speak. "There’s nothing inappropriate about it."
He couldn't see why his Natalie should have to change into something someone else picked out, not for Henry's sake.
The butler, ever agreeable, replied, "Very well."
"Where's Arthur?" Oliver asked, holding Natalie's hand as they walked inside.
"The youngest master hasn't arrived yet. He was out of state when I called him; he's probably two hours away."
Oliver nodded and then inquired, "And the elderly lady?"
Natalie glanced at the butler; she'd been wondering about Mrs. Windsor during the drive over.
Mrs. Windsor had returned to the family home a week before to pay respects to her ancestors and hadn't left since. Even though she seemed distant from Henry, he was still her only son.
The tragedy of an old parent burying their young child... surely, she must be heartbroken too?
"The mistress..." The butler hesitated, as if reluctant to share, but after catching Oliver's sharp gaze, he quickly added, "The mistress has gone upstairs to rest. She said she's too old and frail for all this, not up to managing the situation. If the young master or lady needs anything, you can go upstairs to see her."
Is she resting already? Natalie was taken aback.
Even Oliver, who despised Henry enough to send him to prison without batting an eye, showed a subtle flicker of emotion upon hearing of his father's passing. Mrs. Windsor's very own son... and she had just gone upstairs to rest?
Could it be that she secretly went upstairs to weep?
At one point, Henry had basked in the glory of leading the Windsor family, and yet now, his wake was attended only by his casket and a few servants.
Not a single friend or relative was in sight.
Total abandonment was a stark reality.
All those friends, all those blood-related relatives, whether they truly distanced themselves from Henry or did so to curry favor with Oliver; no longer mattered. The outcome was the same.
He departed this world in solitude, with no one to bid him farewell.
Even his own mother chose not to come.
Irrespective of how much Henry might have disliked Oliver in life, his only remaining children were Oliver and Arthur.
Oliver stood solemnly in front of the portrait, while Natalie watched him quietly, silently offering her support. Whatever actions or decisions he would make, she would support him unconditionally.
After a while, Oliver looked away from the portrait, declining to pay his respects, and instead called for the aged butler to discuss the arrangements for Henry's affairs and the future of the Windsor family estate.
"I'm going up to check on Grandma," Natalie mentioned, gesturing towards the upstairs.
"Okay," Oliver scanned the room, his gaze passing over the several servants before he pointed to the most dependable one, "You, escort Lady Natalie upstairs."
Now that the old mansion was filled with Oliver's own people, there were no security concerns. Yet by choosing the most trustworthy person to accompany Natalie, it gave Oliver some peace of mind.
Mrs. Windsor's bedroom door was ajar as if expecting someone to enter. Natalie knocked first and waited for a response before entering.
Marjorie was sitting in a rocking chair, resting with her eyes closed, lightly fanning herself with a delicate hand fan. She preferred not to use fans or air conditioning unless it was very hot and generally used a fan.
"What are you looking at me for? Come over here," Marjorie opened her eyes to find Natalie standing two meters away, gazing at her intently.
"I was checking to see if you had been crying in secret," Natalie said honestly.
Marjorie scoffed with disdain, "Crying is something for young girls to do; an old maid like me hasn’t cried in years," and she added, "Tears aren’t good for skin care."
Natalie had no response to that. She had an exceptional ability to perceive and recognize emotions, and Marjorie, much like Oliver, was skilled at hiding her true feelings. But even so, considering the loss of her son, Marjorie's response seemed unusually detached and cold.
Natalie took a seat in the rose chair next to Marjorie and said softly, "Grandma, if you're struggling, you can tell me in confidence. I won't tell anyone else. Whatever you say or do, I promise to forget as soon as I leave this room."
Natalie was mainly concerned that the older woman might keep her emotions bottled up, which could lead to illness.
"What about Oliver's reaction?" Marjorie seemed quite satisfied with Natalie's words.
"Ah?" Natalie hesitated, then realized what Marjorie was asking, "Oliver is a lot like you, seeming to not have much of a reaction."
Marjorie seized on a word with precision, "Oh, 'seeming'."
Marjorie paused from waving her fan and locked eyes with Natalie. "You do know that if a stroke is treated quickly, a person can still be saved, right?"
"I know... But I heard Mr. Windsor was already in poor health when he was in jail," Natalie replied, considering that his ill health made a sudden stroke potentially lethal.
Marjorie shook her head with a smile, "His health had declined, sure, but not to that extent. Otherwise, he'd have gone to a hospital permanently rather than convalescing at the family estate."
As for why Oliver didn't pursue Henry's actions, perhaps he had lost interest in admonishing Henry, allowing him to struggle on under his watchful eye, or maybe he had started to go easy on his father.
The truth remained elusive.
"Grandma, what are you trying to say?" Natalie felt an eerie hunch, one she was reluctant to believe.
"I was right there when he had the stroke. I forbade the servants from calling a doctor. I watched him fall to the ground, unable to move, then his convulsions started, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth, and then he lost consciousness, his body growing cold."
Marjorie's tone was as casual as if she were simply remarking on a meal she had, "I had some sweet and sour fish tonight, and it wasn't too bad."
Natalie's mind went blank, and she stood frozen, staring in disbelief at Marjorie.
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