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“I, er… understand it’s not quite what your father had in mind when he set his plan for the village in motion all those years ago.”
Layton tried to swallow down his discomfort, forcing himself not to avert his eyes from the young lady across from him.
Flora sat silently at the table, staring at the stack of papers he’d placed in front of her. Though wide-eyed, her gaze betrayed to the professor exactly none of the thoughts or emotions that must have ventured through her mind in the moment.
(It would certainly have made his role in this conversation easier if they did, Layton mused to himself. A gentleman ought neither to press a lady to speak, nor to waste her time with his own lack of preparedness; he feared without many other cues to work from, he was in danger of breaking both doctrines in one fell swoop—and at a moment when he, crucially, should not play anything less than the model gentleman to boot.)
Absentmindedly beginning to run his thumb over his cufflink, Layton continued to speak, if only to fill the silence between the two of them. “Though, I must admit, it surprises me that the baron never considered this as a possibility himself. I know he cared for you above all, as well as that he wished to ensure that whoever followed in his footsteps would care for you, too.”
“He only did what he thought was best for me.” Flora echoed the sentiment in her own statement.
“Yes, and…” Layton turned his next words over carefully on his tongue before enunciating them to the girl. “…I can’t help but wonder sometimes about the life you might have lived, had a different choice been made at the time.”
Here, a tinge of melancholy swept into Flora’s brown irises—but still, she remained wordless on the subject of the papers on the table.
So it seemed this approach would not make much headway. Exhaling gently, Professor Layton leaned back in his chair to fold his hands over his lap. “May I speak more candidly, Flora?”
Flora pursed her lips faintly, not out of annoyance toward him, but seemingly out of resignation to the request. “I have a feeling I know where you’re headed with this, but yes. I don’t want to keep dancing around it, if that will make this easier for you.”
“Right.” Layton cleared his throat and nodded once, mentally admiring the girl’s quiet fortitude on the subject where his own was somewhat lacking. “I do find it perfectly reasonable that a daughter of nobility would have been raised with expectations of a future betrothal. This is simply how families of the Reinholds’ status have operated for ages.”
Flora blinked at him, listening patiently.
“But you must understand, this is a lot to ask of a common man, and even more so to ask it so suddenly of one whose experience is so, well, estranged to your own. I don’t disagree that you deserve support in your parents’ absence. It’s simply that…”
As he was wont to do when growing self-conscious, Layton fidgeted with the brim of his top hat.
“…despite your father’s best efforts—despite what his elaborate game would suggest about me—I am not someone who is capable of fulfilling his last wishes. Not to the letter, in any case. And I would hate to see you become resentful of any perceived disrespect toward the life he imagined for you.”
“If that’s how you feel, what is this for?”
Finally acknowledging the table space between the two of them, Flora tipped her gaze back towards the small, neat lines of legalese on the first page. Though there was no callousness in her voice (only objective curiosity), the question highlighted the unspoken potential that the Reinhold family had already been slighted at the professor’s presentation of this paperwork.
“This is a… well, I’m not sure that ‘compromise’ is the right word. That would imply a certain level of obligation which a proper gentleman should never cast upon a lady,” Professor Layton replied, unclear which of them he was more intent on assuring in the moment. “Rather, I just wanted to show you that you can make another choice, if you would prefer it.”
The baron’s daughter tentatively ran her index finger under the corners of the pages, minutely elevating them from the table before letting them cascade swiftly back into place.
“You may be on the precipice of adulthood yourself, but even as you begin to venture out into society on your own, I believe you deserve to know of a place where you will always be welcome amidst the highs and lows. I would not insist that you adhere to the cultural norms often placed upon the relationship underscored within these papers—you need not address me as a father figure or defer to my authority, if you would feel more comfortable acting otherwise. Should you elect to sign the papers, it would simply ensure, in the eyes of the law, that I am able to look after you to the end of our time together.”
“…As, in some spirit, was my father’s request,” Flora concluded, a thoughtful hand resting on her chin.
“That was certainly my intent with this solution,” Layton agreed. “But I’d like to emphasize again, this is not the only possible solution to our conundrum; you are under no obligation to follow through on it. If you truly had your heart set on—”
“Okay.”
“…Pardon me?” Layton faltered at the girl’s interruption.
Flora nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it. You saved my life in the tower. It only feels right to me.”
Layton, however, frowned at the last fragment of her statement. “Flora, be as it may that neither of us expected this result when I first arrived in the village, I don’t want you to view this as a debt to repay to me, either. It would not be a fair arrangement in my eyes.”
“Well, then I guess it’s fortunate that’s not what I’m saying,” the girl disclaimed with a shrug. “I left the Reinhold fortune and titles behind in St. Mystère when I came to London with you and Luke. Without those things, I’m beginning to wonder, what does it really matter what a girl like me is ‘supposed’ to do with her life? I have the chance for a fresh start here, to decide who I want to be for myself… and you made that possible, Professor.”
Flora took the stack of papers into her hands and skimmed through the opening paragraphs, the ghost of a smile creeping onto her face.
“So what I mean is, it feels right for me to say that this is somewhere I belong. I’ll agree to this resolution because it’s something I want to happen, too.”
“Oh! That’s—that’s wonderful to hear.” Of all the possible outcomes of their discussion, Layton certainly had not prepared himself for the baron’s daughter to go along with the suggestion so readily. He adjusted his hat again with a politely nervous air. “In that case, I’d advise you to read through the documents carefully on your own time, and we’ll need to schedule an appointment for you to speak with the agent… but I’ll ensure everything is taken care of promptly once you are ready to move forward.”
“Of course, of course. But, Professor...” Flora asked slowly, “would it be too early nonetheless to offer my congratulations on the adoption?”
Pausing to process the wit in the inquiry, Layton chuckled and smiled warmly. “I shouldn’t think so, my dear.” He then stood from his seat, extending his arm for a handshake. “I’m very glad we could reach an answer that is satisfactory to you.”
Observing the offer of contact, Flora rose to her feet as well… and crossed the room to pull the professor into a hug.
“This is going to be good for both of us,” she amended his words. “I know it in my heart.”
Layton did not answer aloud—only placed a reassuring arm around the girl’s shoulders, the weight of this choice finally settling within his mind.
It would be a challenge to each of them in different respects, signing into law his guardianship over her when he had no prior experience in the role of a father figure. But perhaps it would, with time, begin to mend the fissures that had lingered within them for so many years, too.
For Baron Reinhold’s sake… and for Claire’s.
(Yes, Layton decided to himself. He certainly hoped it would.)