I've Tried Going Back to Life After Dying - Chapter 34

“Ah, Arth—”

Hildegard nearly let the name slip out before tightly pressing her lips together.

The last time she had seen him was just before her death in the spring, but in this life, to Arthur, it was their first meeting.

How young he looks—Arthur. And Jones too.

On the day she visited the marquis’s estate, Hildegard was greeted by the servants. Standing before these familiar faces, she couldn’t help but let her guard down.

The butler, Jones, had been nearing seventy when Clifford and Hildegard had died—a spry old man with a straight back, sharp eyes, and a dependable air.

After marrying into the marquis’s household, Hildegard had essentially learned housekeeping from these two.

Jones must be in his mid-forties now. His composed demeanor and dandyish bearing were exactly what one would expect from the marquis’s butler.

“Thank you for inviting us today.”

Suppressing the overwhelming affection she felt, Hildegard offered her greetings in the marquis’s entrance hall.

“We have been expecting you, Lady Hildegard of the Radmond Earldom and Lord Atrey of the Fitzroy Viscountcy.”

Among the servants bowing deeply, she spotted Eloise, who would later become the head maid.

She owed much to Eloise.

Clifford’s mother had always been in poor health and passed away shortly after Hildegard’s marriage.

As a young bride still finding her footing, Hildegard had relied on Eloise to help with matters beyond her reach. During the difficult times when she struggled to conceive, Eloise had been a great comfort. And when Clifford’s affections shifted to Helen, Eloise had been there for her again.

Unintentionally, Hildegard found herself staring at Eloise; so young now.

Seven years older than Hildegard, she must be twenty-three at this time.

These familiar servants were undoubtedly the same people she had lived alongside in her previous life.

Overcome with nostalgia, Hildegard glanced around the marquis’s mansion.

It was impolite to scrutinize the interior when invited as a guest, but the estate looked newer than she remembered. Still untouched by her own tastes and preferences.

Her private chamber had been to the left of the grand staircase, preceded by the couple’s shared bedroom. Even on the morning of their sudden deaths, she and Clifford had slept in the same bed.

Despite his deep affection for Helen, Clifford had never spent a night away from home.

Whenever he visited the annex, he would dutifully inform her in advance such a characteristic gesture of his.

In the past, portraits of Clifford and Hildegard had hung at the top of the staircase. Now, of course, they were nowhere to be seen.

Everything had been reset to before their engagement, and the lives they would lead from here would take entirely different paths.

Her death had been worth it. Soon enough, Clifford would surely find Helen.

If they met from the very beginning, he could live with Helen without hesitation, free from the constraints of a formal marriage.

The memories of Clifford’s love still lingered in the depths of her heart. Though they had long since become mere recollections, Clifford had respected Hildegard as his wife until the very end.

Those memories alone were enough.

They were led to the guest parlor.

Even the air felt nostalgic. The garden visible through the window was just as it had been when she and Clifford were newly engaged.

She remembered letting Austen play on that very lawn.

“Lord Clifford will be with you shortly. Please wait a little longer,” Arthur said as Eloise served fragrant tea. Though still a butler-in-training, he was already handling most of his father’s duties just as she remembered.

Lost in reminiscence, Hildegard failed to notice the oddity, but Atrey did.

“Hildegard,” he whispered, eyeing the maid. “There are three seats.”

They had been invited to a tea party, yet the guest chairs were already occupied by Hildegard and Atrey. Only one seat remained at the round table something she hadn’t noticed until now.

“Were we the only ones invited?”

A flicker in Eloise’s expression confirmed it. Not wanting to unsettle her, Hildegard steadied herself with a sip of tea.

What could Clifford have been thinking, inviting her here?

There were no political ties between the Longfall Marquisate and the Radmond Earldom.

That was why, in her past life, when Clifford had proposed, Hildegard had been overjoyed.

Not only was he from a higher-ranking house, but Clifford, despite his cool demeanor, had been easy to talk to.

She had fallen for him the very day they met.

Now, visiting the marquisate for the first time since her rebirth, everything felt so achingly familiar that she had forgotten something crucial.

She had assumed it was a tea party for the heirs of noble houses.

The small gathering must have been limited to high-ranking nobles. She hadn’t even noticed the odd seating arrangement.

“Atrey…”

Unable to suppress her unease, she glanced at him just as a presence stirred beyond the door.

A soft knock sounded before it opened.

“Thank you for accepting my sudden invitation.”

There he stood—Clifford, as young as she remembered, and the sight pained her.

She hadn’t forgotten him. The love she had tucked away in her heart hadn’t vanished.

But the Clifford before her now was not the one who had shared her past life. Steeling herself, she resolved not to be swayed by his smiling gaze.

Unfazed by her inner turmoil, Clifford took the remaining seat.

“Please, don’t stand on ceremony. We’re fellow students at the same academy.”

A glance at Atrey revealed a stony expression.

What’s with that face, Atrey?

If they had been sitting closer, she would have jabbed him in the side.

His expression practically screamed, why did you call us here?

Amused, Clifford studied Atrey’s disgruntled look.

Come to think of it, these two had been oddly similar in her past life. Not exactly friends, but there had been a mutual respect between them.

Yet Atrey had always disapproved of nobles taking lovers outside marriage.

That was why, whenever they crossed paths at social events, he would subtly check if Hildegard was being treated poorly.

Those evenings on the terrace, champagne in hand, had likely been his way of keeping an eye on her when she stepped away from Clifford.

As she recalled those moments, cooling her alcohol-flushed cheeks in the night breeze while Atrey, no heavy drinker himself, kept her company she couldn’t help but smile.