Chapter 17
Every respectable lady had been taught at a young age that chastity was her most precious possession.
She was to remain wholly pure, pristine and untouched for her husband, preserved like a prized flower.
For a lady to then exchange private letters with a man unrelated to her was beyond improper.
It was ruinous, and Haewon knew that if she attempted to entrust Maid Boram with such a task, the girl would likely cast the letter into the fire.
She would have to deliver the letter herself, and with utmost caution.
Haewon kept her veil low as she stepped outside the following day, Boram tailing behind.
Servants, upon questioning, had shared that Young Master Byeongho had gone out to survey the property and his tenant farmers.
Her hope was to find the young master alone in the open, and to slip the love letter into his possession without Boram noticing.
Instead, Haewon found him stretched out in a pavilion that faced a vast field, a book over his face.
“They say archery is meant for leisure,” he said, voice muffled. “But watching you, I can’t help but think you’re punishing yourself. Truly, it’s sheer torture to witness. What is bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
Haewon’s gaze swiveled onto the young master’s companion, the young man with an arrow aimed across the empty field. His focus was so intense he seemed not to register their arrival.
She and Boram gawked as Lord Yu drew the arrow back with such elegance and ease.
One could only imagine what tremendous strength was required to pull the bowstring and hold it steady.
He did so with effortless control, it seemed.
But then the slightest tremble of his bandaged arm told her he was in some pain, a pain he resisted as he released the arrow.
She watched as it flew and met the target board, joining the cluster of others.
He reached for the next, then stilled at the sight of her. His gaze held hers, intense and unwavering, as he slowly lowered the bow.
“Whatever is bothering you, it kept you up all night, didn’t it?
” the young master’s muffled voice spoke on.
“I heard you pacing about until dawn. You’ve lost all appetite and look entirely too distracted.
You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? Though, I wager, not nearly as often as I find myself thinking of Shin Yeonok … ‘Jade,’ as she prefers to be called—”
A squeak escaped Boram.
Haewon flung a horrified glance at her maid, just as the young master bolted up. The book fell off him with a thud.
“M-Mistress Haewon!” he cried.
Haewon inclined her head, hoping the veil hid her shock.
“My maid and I were just out for a stroll,” she remarked as she and Boram began inching backward in retreat.
She tried to sound conversational, like she hadn’t overheard anything at all.
“Your injuries, Lord Yu … I hope you are recovering well?”
When he didn’t reply, appearing sickly pale, she rambled on, her pulse pounding at the base of her throat. “The morning is cold and damp, so I hope you will be careful of your health, gentlemen. Now, if you will excuse us.”
At once, Haewon maneuvered her maid around, and they quickly retreated to Hwasadang. Her plan to deliver her sister’s letter was entirely abandoned.
“Agasshi.” Her maid peered at her intensely once they were in the safety of the women’s quarter. “Did something happen in the forest when you both were alone?”
Haewon, startled out of the shock, looked at her maid. “I told you, nothing happened.”
“He didn’t—he didn’t make any untoward advances?”
“Of course not!” Haewon bristled. “What a preposterous assumption, Boram-ah.”
“But when the young master said Lord Yu was thinking about someone, I’m so certain the woman in question was you.”
“If Lord Yu thinks of me at all, it is in judgment. All he does is look down his nose at me whenever we are together. Whatever the case.” She gave a wave of her hand, brushing Boram’s silly concern away. “You must have heard, too. The young master is in love with our Jade—!”
A crinkle formed between Boram’s brows. “But did you not see the way he was staring at you? Indeed, he appeared as though you were … someone very dear to him, agasshi.”
“Me? Dear to him,” Haewon echoed, feeling so dumbstruck she nearly laughed.
This was absurd! Lord Yu had shown absolutely no sign that he held her in any esteem.
She was certain of this; she could always trust her good judgment on these matters of the heart.
“Even if the young master was referring to me, it’s of no consequence.
Haven’t you heard the way gentlemen converse in private at the bookshop?
Men will often tease one another, boasting, and saying what they do not mean.
They say such things to amuse themselves, not because they are true. ”
“Well then, I wouldn’t wish you to embarrass yourself, agasshi…” Her gaze flicked to the letter in Haewon’s hand. “I hope that is not a love letter to Lord Yu.”
Haewon looked at Boram, aghast. “I would never write a love letter to Lord Yu. Goodness, Boram-ah, how silly do you think I am?”
The maid let out a dramatic sigh and grumbled, “Silly me, to think you might ever marry a great man like him.”
“I assure you, I take no interest in great men. Especially great men who actually believe they are great at all.”
“Besides,” Boram went on, as though she hadn’t heard a word, “Lord Yu, so the servants whisper, is to be betrothed to the Minister of Rites’s daughter. A rare beauty, it is said.”
Haewon stilled at this. She oughtn’t to feel anything but indifferent to this news. She had no reason to care; he meant nothing to her. Yet Boram’s words pressed into her like a blunt knife. It was the strangest feeling—a feeling better left unexamined. “A perfect match for him, I am sure!”
For the rest of the afternoon, Haewon kept the letter safely tucked away as her sister—looking elegant and ethereal even while ill—conversed with the young master’s mother, who seemed quite enchanted by Jade.
Then, by nightfall, as Maid Boram was busy brushing Jade’s hair, Haewon drew out the letter and stepped outside.
If Byeongho was as besotted as he seemed, surely he would linger near the women’s courtyard, hoping to catch even the sound of Jade’s voice, especially since they were leaving for home the next morning.
Or had she read too many novels? Were men not like those in The Tale of Sim Saeng, where a single encounter with a beautiful woman would leave an upright scholar standing outside the lady’s home for days, wasting away with lovesickness?
Haewon strolled through the courtyard, which was closed in by a high stone wall that shut out the rest of the world. A place where proper young ladies grew up, often never seeing much beyond.
“Please,” Haewon whispered, halting before the wall. “Please be near.”
She was so desperate now, she found herself hoping that she could will the young man to show up. That if she wished strong enough for him to pass by, he would.
As though her prayers had summoned someone, Haewon was greeted by the sound of hurried footsteps.
She quickly ducked into the shadows, hiding behind a wooden pillar under the eaves.
There, she watched as a female servant unlocked the gate that connected the two courtyards.
The girl scuttled in, balancing a small table loaded with bowls.
She hesitated, considering the unlocked gate behind her, but when the table nearly tilted, she hurried forward instead and disappeared into the shadows.
Now was her chance.
Holding the letter tight, Haewon moved toward the open gate. A door was meant to be walked through. Young Master Byeongho might be lingering somewhere near …
And yet, she could not.
Liberty was peril. The etiquette books had tied a delicate noose around her ankle, holding her in her place.
Chastity, respectability, and honor are everything; they measure a woman’s worth, her family’s worth.
She had read too many of these books to naively hope that, if caught outside the women’s quarter, anyone would understand that her intentions were pure.
A sigh escaped her as she continued to stroll aimlessly.
At least the courtyard was a pleasing sight to behold.
White plum blossom trees, mountain peonies, and azaleas released their fragrance and sweetened the evening air.
A chorus of birds called from the east. Rain had come and gone throughout the day, and the remnants of the previous shower dripped from the eaves like crystal threads.
Haewon found herself standing paces away from the gate once more, staring at the glimpse of the men’s courtyard beyond—a vast dirt yard and the rippling silhouette of flared-roof structures.
She was about to turn, then froze as she caught sight of a tall male figure.
His back was to her, brooding as he paced in and out of view.
She knew, almost at once, that he was not the young master.
Flee, her heart thrummed.
She wanted to dart away like a rabbit. But she could not move.
The moon rose higher, outlining his broad shoulders, his lean waist. Then he turned slowly. Their eyes locked. The color drained from his face. Something like fear flitted across his expression.
“Mistress Haewon.” His voice was so low and deep, her skin pebbled.
“Someone must have forgotten to close the gate.” She nervously wandered over and put her hand on the gate as though meaning to shut it, but she was once again rendered immobile.
He was right across from her now, and his gaze fell onto the letter in her hand.
Without thinking, she instantly snatched the letter behind her.
“A letter you would rather hide,” he observed. “It is for Byeongho, I presume.”
Her eyes widened, and he strolled closer.