Chapter 50: Chapter 50 – It may be a farewell, but it´s not an end

The first week of January passed more quickly than Oscar would have liked. So much so that he could barely see Albert again a couple of times, before the day of farewell came.

It would be a lie to say that, once he had quit his job at the Seymour estate, Oscar's workload hadn´t lessened to such an extent that he couldn't afford to make a getaway or two to Thornfield. Even more considering the holidays in between. But he didn't want to impose either, since there were still visitors left at the Northrop house and well, those people would have made all that trip to visit his family. Not just a "friend" of one of their nephews.

If it were only the villain in that house, he would have no qualms about showing up there as many times as he wanted, but being like this... It didn't make sense. Not even if he, or Letitia, or even Jack tried to downplay it, claiming it wouldn't be a nuisance. In the same way that Oscar wanted to have his space, even in those first days of the year when he had been granted a few days of vacation in his second and now main job, he did not want to interrupt others'.

So in the following week he kept his visits to a minimum, stopping by Thornfield just one afternoon for tea and taking advantage of another day, in which he ran into them by chance, to accompany Albert and his cousins ​​on a tour of the town.

Before the end of that first week in January, all the Northrop guests — except for the old lady and her companion — had already departed for their respective homes, with many having responsibilities that required immediate attention and not wanting to remain in the home of his relatives until the day in which they too had to leave.

When the date finally arrived for the villain and his remaining relatives to leave for London, they decided not to occupy their own carriage but, for practicality, the diligence that would leave Snodland early in the morning. And it was there, to be precise, that Oscar last saw Albert.

"I would invite you to continue stopping by Thornfield whenever you wanted, despite not being able to be there to greet you," he had commented, moments before leaving town, "but I think it would be better if I asked you as a favor. Could you drop by there once in a while? I hope there´s no problem with our servants if you decide to visit the property. Well, they´re already advised they must continue to receive you as one more guest.”

No, it wouldn't be like just another guest. That, Oscar thought, was too humble a way to describe the treatment he continued to receive at Thornfield. For, and this was by no means an exaggeration, he used to be treated as the best of guests. The invitation of this day, without going any further, proved it.

What kind of host would be so supportive that a person like him, without titles, money or kinship to bind him, continued to come to his home even when he was absent? Fortunately, the Thornfield employees had the same good natured character as their masters and continued to put up with him without a trace of suspicion.

"But why should I stop by Thornfield?" Oscar mused aloud. “Occupying someone else's mansion, even if he doesn't own the place nor is he officially hired to supervise anyone's work…” Letting his thoughtful tone die, he interjected with a smile. “We´ll see if, by acting so bold, they think I'm the newest addition to the family.”

"W-well, the excuse is that you could stop by to check that the building is still standing. It's not exactly… It's not like you have to supervise our employees, and…” Albert paused, uneasy as he was, before continuing. “But the truth is, if I make the offer, it's because I thought you could continue to use the library. The place where you work now is small, does not have individual offices, and besides, I have already learned the Cornells are going to settle in the town. I thought, then, that you could use a place where you could concentrate for your writing without having so much noise in the background.”

"In that case, I´ll have to accept it gratefully."

He would certainly put the library to good use. He still felt somewhat uncomfortable about having the power to wander Thornfield as if it suddenly belonged to him, but, thinking about it again, what was wrong with that? When the Northrops returned, if he began to hold that promised post as secretary, for all practical purposes he would be considered just another member of the service. One with enough power to take certain liberties.

Why not try to get used to it? Anyway, if he didn't have problems with the service before it was just because he never bothered them with requests that were difficult to fulfill. He wasn't doing it as a guest, and he wasn't planning to start doing it when he held the blissful position.

"I'll write to you as soon as I've settled in the city," Albert continued. “It may take a while, as we will first have to make a stop at the Costwolds, but eventually...”

"Boy, when will you finish?" He heard someone say from behind. “It seems that you are saying goodbye to your girlfriend and not to the service.”

"I'm coming, Grandma," he murmured, more embarrassed by the lady's comment than by what he himself might have said without realizing it.

The old woman was already with one foot on the rung that would help her onto the carriage when she made this remark. With Letitia accommodated in one of the passenger seats, the luggage well placed on the roof of the car, Mr. Northop giving the coachman some final instructions and Mrs. Wallace about to help her employer settle down with her granddaughter, the truth is that it only remained for Albert to turn to them so that the diligence could leave.

"As I said, I'll write to you as soon as I can," concluded the villain, partly relieved because, after indicating to his grandmother that he would immediately proceed to accompany them, she did not insist further.

"I expected nothing less," said Oscar. Although he did not like having to see Albert leave, he had enjoyed that last exchange with his relatives. “Anyway, you don't need to rush. Maybe I'll go ahead and, before you think of writing me a letter, you've already heard from me.”

After all, Oscar didn´t plan to sit around waiting for someone else to bring him news from the capital. Kindness had to be paid with kindness, as he saw it. And things like this, if anything, he would gladly do.

After reaching this agreement and seeing that the game could not be postponed any longer, both said goodbye with a handshake. It was awkward and silent, in part because none of them seemed to find the right words to close this episode. Oscar would have liked to save this or, better yet, exchange it for a hug. Since, although they had been separated before, they never were for as long as planned here. And, in any case, many were the things that changed in the last days. Wasn't this, then, too cold a farewell?

But it had to be that way, it wasn't an option that was otherwise. After all, they weren't alone.

When Albert left him with the intention of going to the carriage, Oscar noticed his jacket: Didn't that chain that protruded from his pocket belong to the watch he gave him? Yes, it had to be, he could see the crown of it sticking out of another opening in the garment. And it was no secret the villain had liked this gift of his. The day he gave it to him he had to keep it so his family wouldn't see it right away and start asking embarrassing questions. But, discounting that night, it looked like the watch had been worn daily.

Oscar could not be one hundred percent sure of this, but it seemed the possibility was high considering that, the times they met again after the New Year, he had always carried the object.

Now, it should be noted that Albert wasn´t the only one who made good use of the present that was made to him. Oscar wore his new scarf every time he went out, this time even. Perhaps, viewed like this, words weren't necessary after all, since actions revealed the character of each one better than any comment to elders that could be made.

After ten minutes, the carriage finally departed with all its travelers on board, leaving Oscar in the middle of the square, wondering when he would again meet face to face with these people who were so close to him by now.

Father and son did not plan to return for a minimum of two months, and as for Letitia, she would not return until the Easter holidays. Or, maybe, until later. Nothing was certain, even trips of a certain stipulated duration could be lengthened. Well, this must not be forgotten, if old Northrop and his son went to London for so long it was for reasons of force majeure. And after taking care of their business, there was still the possibility that they would have to stay in those parts to attend a social event. Albert might try to avoid such crowds, but when he running a business like his, it was sometimes necessary to make certain sacrifices in order to meet and socialize with investors.

So, without having a fixed return date, Oscar couldn't help feeling a little uneasy when he saw the diligence drive away.

Albert's departure only put him in a bad mood. He didn´t regret not leaving his job because, at the end of the day, that was what gave him his reason to live. But he would have liked to be able to accompany the villain.

He spent a few days like this, lamenting about things that could have changed or that could have turned out differently if at least that fatal work was set in his century. Thinking that, if so, he would hear from Albert on a regular basis. Although that was not nearly enough for him. And, now that he didn't have it, he was missing it. When you got something it was natural to start getting greedy, craving even more.

The only good thing about all that separation drama that he was experiencing, and this was about something that had nothing to do with Albert, was that Cousin Thomas had stopped screwing around.

The guy still raved about him in public and whined in private, but at least he had given up trying to get money out of him. He no longer asked for anything. Of course, he did not stop reminding him that he was going to take revenge, that he would regret not having helped when it was too late. But to Oscar it all sounded like empty threats.

What could Thomas do? Steal from him? People were always downstairs at the inn, and after his cousin visited, he told them not to let him go upstairs again if he reappeared. Then, as for Oscar's possessions... he didn´t own anything with a high monetary value. The money he had at his disposal was kept in a small box, under lock and key, which he kept hidden in a double bottom of his closet. This was relatively safe, and how much was he saved anyway? He didn't think Thomas could do much with it.

In any case, and although on a personal level Oscar seemed to be stagnant, professionally the opposite seemed to be the case.

A few days after the Northrops left, Mr. Simmons broke the news to him; the stories Oscar was writing were so successful since they began to be published that, thanks to them, sales had increased. It was the first time in years that this had happened, being that this was a local newspaper and in itself it was not that attracted much attention to people from outside. Not until then.

And if the story thing worked, why not try writing a novel? What the newspaper editor suggested, ensuring that there would be many interested readers, was to prepare a chapter for each week. In this way, whoever got hooked on the plots that Oscar offered, would have no choice but to buy all the editions of the press if he did not want to miss details of how the narrative continued.

The idea was for Oscar to abandon the stories and begin preparing his manuscript immediately so that it could begin serialization in mid-February. And that's what he was doing that morning, preparing summaries and schematics that could help him create a commercial-worthy thriller, when someone walked through the door claiming to see him.

“May I sit here?” Madeleine asked this when she had already grabbed a nearby chair, placing it at Oscar's desk. “Ah, you have this made a mess, don't you have someone to clean?”

Although Oscar had told her that he was busy and did not want to talk, Madeleine had already sat down, placing her elbows on the table, watching the other's pen movement, and warning him:

"You have a job and I'm not in a hurry, so I'll stay here and wait for you to finish."

Oscar sighed. Mr. Simmons had forbidden entry to Dianne, but he did not know Madeleine, much less did he know how annoying she could be. Therefore, when she asked where her precious friend was, the director not only didn´t kick her out, but kindly indicated where she could find him.

"What gut did you break this time?" Oscar asked, putting aside any writing tools; he did not like to write with an audience and listening to it seemed to be the only way for the protagonist to be dispatched before the end of the day.

 "Look how rude you are! You don´t contact me even once, after how bad I had it on Christmas Eve... And now, the first time you talk to me after all that time, you do it in such a rude tone!”

"Do you have any complaints about how I've behaved with you in the last few weeks?"

“Weeks? You´ve been the strangest for months! Of course I have complaints, although that shouldn't be news to you. What happens is that, of course, what I say enters you through one ear and comes out the other. I did not require you for my plan at the Seymour ball because, well, you had been too messy for a few months and it was not to bother you. But you should have thought of giving in and helping me out! Especially when you find out how terrible my situation is!”

“Madeleine, I have to tell you that with this office work (which I hope will last me a long time, because I was tired of sweeping the shit out of the gentlemen) I have learned to handle problems in a much more diplomatic way. So if you have complaints, which I see you do, please put them in the suggestion box. Then leave and have the patience to wait, in two or three weeks you´ll might receive a friendly response”

"What joke is this? We live and we are so close…! Why should I have to express my complaints in writing when I have you in front of you?”

“It's for the mere saving of time, energy, and brain cells”

"I don't save any of that by writing to you, on the contrary! What I do is lose.”

"I was referring to myself. I'm falling behind in my work because of you, getting tired before I even answer and, if that wasn't enough, every time you open your mouth, one of my brain cells commits suicide. If you put your dramas in paper, I can at least decide when I want to torture myself.”

"Don't make it sound like I'm a bad person!" Madeleine protested and, searching around her without success, she inquired. “Where is that suggestion box?”

Oscar didn't say anything, all he did was point to a box located in a corner of the store. Box that Madeleine only stared at for a few seconds, before she replied with growing indignation:

"That's the dumpster!"

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“Indeed. But that's where your letters would end up anyway, so I'm really just saving you time by asking you to deposit them there directly.”

Once this was verified, Oscar began to rearrange his papers on the desk. He took up the pen again, indicating that he would go back to his writing, whether the protagonist liked it or not. But Madeleine still hadn't finished making herself heard and, guessing what the other was up to, she put her hands on the papers so that Oscar couldn't continue.

"I have a request so simple and small that it won't cost you anything to agree to it," she explained, before he protested.

"Tell me what it's about."

The sooner you say it, the sooner I will reject it, he thought.

"I need you to give me the address of Albert Northrop in the capital."

Hearing this, Oscar burst out laughing. It was so sudden that several of Simmons' employees turned to look at him, wondering what joke had been told to make it difficult for him to regain his composure. After a couple of minutes laughing non-stop, he inquired:

"Why didn't you ask him on Christmas Eve? I thought you were talking to him for a long time.”

“I couldn´t do it! What do I say... It's not that I couldn't, it's that it didn't occur to me. I didn't even know the Northrops, including Albert, were going to London for who knows how many weeks. If I had known, rest assured I would have asked! But I found out late, when I went to pay the typical courtesy call to Thornfield and only the butler came out to tell me that the gentlemen were absent. Can you believe it? We were together on Christmas Eve and he didn't even mention he was leaving!”

Oscar didn't say anything, but he felt a certain sense of superiority in that instant. No, the only ones who knew that old man Northrop and his children would be leaving for a while were his relatives and some friends that the said gentleman had in town. They were the ones who met them the day before. But if the thing turned to Albert, Oscar was pretty sure that he was the only person he had communicated to his departure.

"It's unfair, but understandable," she continued. “It was an important ball, there were a lot of people around and that must have made someone reserved like Mr. Northrop nervous. I'm sure that if he didn't tell me anything, it's because he completely forgot.”

"I don't know if he should have told you something or not," Oscar began, although it was true that he did know, "but why should I give you his address?"

"Why shouldn't you? And don't start over with that privacy nonsense! I can accept that you don´t want to tell me other details, preferences of Mr. Northrop within his home, but why not a simple address? Many people have it! You even. And regarding this, why did he give it to you? I find all this secrecy towards your new and illustrious friendship very selfish. You weren't even protecting me that much back then!”

“Since at least you seem to have heard that I want to maintain the privacy of certain people who are related to me, I´ll just shut up and wait for you to understand.”

"I won't understand, for me those aren't reasons! It's not like I'm asking for his bank account either.” After a few moments, Madeleine must have stopped to think about something, she said. “Maybe if I tell you all the misadventures I went through on Christmas Eve you will agree to tell me. I mean, it would be like a small payment for all my suffering.”

“Please, don´t”

"It all started the moment we got to that damn ball," she began, turning a deaf ear to any protest. “I didn't really want to go, but I needed to make Albert Northrop notice me, so I had to be there. Because you know, our neighbors are charming but very reserved. I had no other occasion to introduce myself to them. Then…”

"Did you manage to apologize to Albert for harassing and trying to assault him?" Oscar asked curtly.

“What?”

"All that story about you not going to balls, or sitting at the hosts' table and barely talking to a gentleman, I already know it. So I thought we would jump to the important part. That is, when you dragged your prey under the mistletoe and tried to steal a kiss.”

"Y-you know? Of course you do! After all, you and Mr. Northrop are good friends, I must have figured it out! But do you know what? It is he who should apologize to me, for having stood me up in such a humiliating way.”

Oscar didn't say anything, but he was thinking that if they talked about grievances, everyone was to blame. Albert shouldn't have pushed someone in his place, but should have expressed himself firmly from the beginning. And as for Madeleine, what redress for the offense was she seeking if it was her who took the initiative to go after another man when, in the eyes of the mob, she was still dating someone?

“The worst thing is that in that moment of confusion I ended up kissing the postman… You can't imagine how disgusted I was!” She went on. “I locked myself in the bathroom and no longer felt strong enough to go out again, not even when people who really liked me, like Dianne, tried to comfort me. Oh, but that Sayer… He was so annoying after that! He approached me a few days later to ask me out. Obviously I sent him to hell because who does he think I am? And after doing something so disgusting to me...”

"You could almost say that Sayer was mugged too, only thing that he liked it."

“Don´t remind me that!”

"I know, I know, the poor man must be a masochist. Now, while the world was falling on you when you were locked in the bathrooms, did it not cross your mind to go out and stop the duel?”

"What do you mean stop it? What I would have wanted is to go out to cheer them on! After all, they were fighting over me.” Madeleine said this last sentence in a dreamy tone that, for some reason, disgusted Oscar. “But even though I was a little glad that the reason for their fight was me, I couldn't go. Not just because I was still trying to clean my mouth and forget the trauma I had just experienced, it was a difficult situation outside. I mean, imagine. My jilted boyfriend and my future lover fighting over me, who should I cheer on in front of all those people?”

"It's quite a dilemma, no doubt."

“Then they confirmed to me that the duel was over, Patrick being the winner. Tremendous good for nothing, to all this. Look at deciding to do something profitable for my benefit just when ours is more than dead! What do you think? Do you think, perhaps, that I will return to him just because he suddenly becomes affectionate? And of course, not to mention Albert. As he was the one who lost, he did not even have the courage to appear before me… Understandable and very respectable, on the other hand, since that privilege should only be given to the winner”

"I was going to tell you... The fact that Patrick dared to challenge Albert to a duel for you, added to the fact that Albert rejected you twice in these few days, doesn't give you a clue as to which of the two is cares more about you?”

"They both do it, only each in his own way! You cannot ask someone shy to go with her lover when he has just fought a duel with her supposed boyfriend.”

"Don't you think you're only seeing what you want to see?"

“How annoying! Dianne also said the same thing to me when I insisted that Patrick no longer interested me. But no, I'm pretty sure that's the way things are. Or what happens? Does it seem to you that Mr. Northrop already has a mistress? No, do not tell me. Even if he has someone he likes, it doesn't matter! I can compete with her and win, because I have the absolute certainty that she is not as virtuous and beautiful as I am. We are completely incomparable! So in the long run he will end up choosing me. Wait and see.”

"It's true that comparing yourself to that person would be an insult," Oscar laughed. “In any case, what about Patrick? Have you break up or are you still seeing each other?”

“Break up? There never was and never will be something between us! I've already decided,” Madeleine replied firmly, banging on the table and narrowly spilling a bottle of ink that Oscar was quick to steady against falling. “That fool, now that I've lost interest in him, he's been hanging around me. Insisting that we get back together, hinting that he might even sleep with me in his bedroom. Who does he think he is? He invited me to another ball on New Years Eve, but I turned him down knowing the Northrop's weren't going to be there. I pretended that I was sick and also refused to see anyone from the Seymours, hence why I was hiding at home all these days, having to put up with Sayer with his pleas, and the continuous letters and visits from Patrick, who seems not to gives up. It's so annoying…! And when at last my imaginary illness faded and I decided to visit Thornfield, I find that there is no one there!”

“Terrible. I suppose you´ll have to settle for your now ex, since the one who was to be your husband has run away.”

"I don't understand anything, I even sent a note to Thornfield saying that I was at death's door, waiting for him to feel sorry for me and pay me a visit. But no. All I got was a letter of just two lines wishing me a speedy recovery. And he didn't even write it, but that crippled one of his sister!”

At this point, Oscar stood up. His patience had a limit and this had long since been far exceeded. He hadn't kicked Madeleine out before because he wanted to know what to expect with her, but that was too much. It was not a matter of jealousy, he already knew that the protagonist had zero chances with the villain. But for one of respect; Oscar had no intention of continuing to hear how Albert and the rest of his family were insulted.

"I think it's time for you to go," he said, his expression grim and without any hint of joking. “I don't know where you´ll get his address, but this I can assure you, it will not be from me.”

"And if it's not for you, where am I going to...?"

In that instant, something happened that didn't happen often. The protagonist must have had a moment of divine illumination, because she stood up smiling, nothing to do with her state of mind in the last minutes. And, assuring Oscar that she had just solved her problems, she thanked him for doing nothing, starting to walk towards the exit.

Oscar barely took a few seconds to realize what was haunting her, sometimes, not so empty head. The postman! The postman could tell her the address! And since Sayer had been after her for the past few weeks, it would be no inconvenience to provide the information she asked for. What's more, he would be delighted to get some of the attention that he was denied.

 Knowing that it would be nearly impossible to convince, or even bribe, Sayer not to say anything, Oscar had no choice but to call Madeleine again before she left.

"Have you changed your mind?" She had asked, now in excellent spirits, as if anticipating that she had her way.

"Please sit here and wait for me," he asked. “I'll go find the address and I'll give it to you right away.”

Convinced with the plan, the protagonist obeyed, occupying the same chair as her a few minutes before. Meanwhile, Oscar left the room, heading for a tiny room full of shelves with filing cabinets. Once there, he went to a particular drawer and opened it, reaching out for a letter.

Then, before returning to the living room where Madeleine was waiting, he took a piece of paper and copied the address that came on the envelope. When finished, he returned to the protagonist, offering her what he had just written.

"See how it wasn't that complicated?" She said, almost jumping for joy. “Be careful that when Mr. Northrop responds to me, I will be sure to tell him you helped me in my endeavor to get closer to him and for that I´ll be eternally grateful.”

If Albert answers you, it will certainly be incredible, thought Oscar once she was gone.

Obviously, he hadn't given his address. He knew Madeleine's style and it was no longer just that he wanted to keep Albert's privacy, but he also wanted to avoid being bothered with dozens of meaningless letters.

So, by fucking his ethics as a worker at that newspaper, he had gone straight to where the complaint letters were stored. There was a woman, that he knew of, who sent out poisoned missives almost every week, complaining about some small thing that was easy to fix or of little importance. That woman, although she had relatives in a town near Snodland, lived most of the year in London and it was from there that she sent her letters.

Oscar just passed the address on as the villain's and handed it to Madeleine knowing that she wouldn't suspect a thing. Better that than for her to approach Sayer and get an authentic address. Besides, he said to himself, what did it matter tan stranger receive the letters from the protagonist? As much as she screwed with complaints that had to be countered, this could only be seen as forcing karma on her a bit.

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