Chapter 3
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 3
At Theodore’s question, River Ross, who had been half in a daze, snapped to attention. He knew his superior officer did not appreciate sluggishness.
“I believe I’ll be heading to the southern region, sir. To Gloucester Castle.”
“Gloucester Castle? Is that your hometown?”
“Ah, no, sir. My uncle is a long-time gardener for the House of Somerset. He said he needs a lot of help this summer, so I was planning to go and assist him.”
For a moment, Theodore was at a loss for words as he stared at his overly earnest subordinate. As if feeling obligated to say something, River Ross hastily added more.
“I figured it would be better to help out than just laze around on my leave. The air is good at Gloucester Castle, there’s a river nearby that’s great for swimming, and I was told I could use an empty warehouse for lodging. Count Somerset apparently gave his permission without a second thought.”
Of course he did, Theodore thought, a cynical smile twisting his lips. A perfectly able-bodied worker falls into your lap for free, so you welcome him with open arms. He stifled the words he couldn’t bring himself to say to the sergeant’s face. There was no way this easygoing subordinate of his had been shrewd enough to negotiate a fair wage.
Then again, who was he to worry about anyone else? In a few hours, he would be surrounded by the wolves of high society, forced to endure an endless string of exhausting functions. The mere thought brought on a wave of fatigue and a headache.
“The train to Bath should be arriving shortly. In that case, with all due respect, Captain…”
“Ah. Right.”
Theodore had been nodding in dismissal, but his head froze mid-motion. Just then, the train, heated by the southern sun, slowly pulled to a stop before them, shimmering waves of heat rising from its frame.
“You seem to have no passion for life.”
At the sudden echo from the past, Theodore slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. The whisper of the dead warmed his mind like a Siren’s song. In the waking dream, a sick man’s withered hand tapped lightly over his heart.
“You do what you’re told with precision, but you don’t enjoy it in the slightest. You’ll probably continue to live like that. I wish, just once, you’d stop calculating with your head and follow this instead.”
“This?”
“Your heart. Your impulses, your desires.”
The impulse came upon him with bewildering suddenness. Perhaps it was because the sunlight was exceptionally beautiful today, the breeze was cool, and the sky was far too clear. And so.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“Sir?”
Theodore smiled at River Ross, who was staring at him with wide, startled eyes. It was a smile as perfect as a painting. Those fortunate enough to witness their superior’s smile were usually quick to sing its praises, but River was one of the few who sensed something ominous in that expression.
“You have relatives in the south, you said?”
“Yes, sir. But…”
“I shall join you on this wholesome summer vacation of yours.”
“S-sir?”
As if on cue, the doors of the newly stopped train opened behind a bewildered River Ross, hissing out smoke as opaque as the sergeant’s own future.
* * *
The Winchester twins arrived late in the afternoon. Fortunately, unlike Baron Howard’s automobile, which had broken down and delayed his arrival by several days, their car passed through the main gates of Gloucester Castle right on schedule.
Vanessa gladly ran out to greet her old friends. Though they had parted only a few weeks ago, seeing each other outside of school made the reunion feel all the more special. While the Winchester servants carried in their large travel trunks, the three friends settled into the grand drawing room overlooking the garden to catch up.
“You should completely ruin your makeup,” Rosalyn advised with a serious face.
Blair chimed in, crunching on a sugar cube. “Or pretend you’ve gone mad.”
“What if you burst into tears the moment you meet him?”
“Or just act completely uncivilized. I can even lend you my grandmother’s dress.”
“…Why on earth did you bring that thing?” Blair asked, dumbfounded.
Rosalyn shrugged and answered nonchalantly, “To take a picture in front of the temple in Santra, in the exact same pose my grandmother struck in her Grand Tour photo.”
“Wouldn’t he like that even more? Baron Howard must be nearly seventy.”
“Oh.”
Rosalyn’s exclamation was a choked sound. The age difference was nauseating. A woman about to turn twenty and a man nearly seventy.
“I’m just so jealous of you two.”
Vanessa spoke honestly, stretching her long arms and legs out before her. She then fell backward, sinking deep into the plush sofa. It was a flagrant breach of etiquette, but the only person who ever entered the room was the maid who brought ice when they rang.
“A Grand Tour… To think you’ll get to see Hessen’s palace, the temple in Santra, and the warship museum in Espeda with your own eyes…”
“Why don’t you just come with us? We can cover the cost.”
“You know a woman can’t do anything without her legal guardian’s permission. And my uncle is desperate to rush this ‘deal’ through.”
Deal. The word was miserable on her tongue, but no other so accurately described her situation.
While Rosalyn fumed in indignation, Blair, who had been leisurely sipping his tea, set his cup down on its saucer with a clink.
“Or perhaps I could lend a hand, Somerset?”
Vanessa’s half-closed eyes flew open. Blair’s pale blue eyes were fixed on her.
“A hand?”
“What if we announce that we’re lovers?”
Vanessa’s cat-like eyes widened into circles.
“You and me? Blair Fabian Winchester, the one with a fiancée?”
“I’ll handle Sissy.”
“Besides, a vague relationship like ‘lovers’ won’t be enough to dissuade my uncle. It would just invite more scrutiny.”
“He might find the heir to the Marquessate of Winchester an even more tempting prize.”
Blair shrugged in response. Despite his playful and lighthearted demeanor, he was quite serious. For some time, he had felt a certain yearning for Vanessa. It was too lukewarm to be love—something closer to the possessiveness one felt for a childhood friend.
A beautiful but poor girl, at once demure and impertinent. Looking into Vanessa’s liquid gray eyes, he thought he could understand how sailors were bewitched by Sirens.
“You’ve completely lost your mind, little brother.”
Rosalyn interjected, elegantly raising one eyebrow.
“That’s a cruel thing to do to Sissy. You know how wary she is of you two already.”
“That’s not Vanessa’s problem. Nor is it our mothers’ fault for being the best of friends.”
“Sophistry.”
“Besides, Sissy needs to see more of the world. A private governess instead of school, bride lessons instead of a Grand Tour… I couldn’t stand being in a room with her for an hour. She’s so dreadfully boring.”
“Stop talking about her like that.”
“I’d rather have Vanessa.”
“Blair Fabian Winchester.”
A faint trace of anger crept into Rosalyn’s even voice. If Blair were serious about it, that would be one thing. But misplaced pity and lukewarm desire would only make everyone miserable.
Moreover, rumors, regardless of intent, always tended to flow in a more sensational direction. For Blair, it might be dismissed as a youthful indiscretion, but in the end, Vanessa would be the only one left ruined.
An unmarried woman who shamelessly took a lover.
The world was changing by the day, yet people were still fixated on a woman’s purity. The attitude had persisted for thousands of years, and now it was beyond tiresome—it was horrifying. Nevertheless, it was a shackle from which they, born as nobles, could not escape. Rosalyn, Vanessa, and even Blair all knew it.
“Alright, Blair. That’s enough joking.”
Vanessa let the tense expression on her face relax and walked over to the window. They were all born of blue blood. They had been taught from the moment they could walk that one did not disrupt a marriage alliance between families for personal feelings. Besides, Sissy’s family, the Brontes, was a far better match than Vanessa’s House of Somerset, which was a mere shell of its former self.
“If you even pretended to abandon her, the Marquis of Winchester would faint on the spot.”
“He’d be lucky not to be sold off to some rich woman from the New Continent.”
Vanessa smiled a little at Rosalyn’s cynical retort. Yes. These were the times. An era where traditional nobles, their wealth tied to the land, were slowly falling into ruin. Meanwhile, those who had moved swiftly to the New Continent amassed fortunes by enslaving the natives, and factories equipped with the latest machinery lined the riverbanks.
“Still, Vanessa. If it ever gets too hard to bear, just tell us.”
Standing before the half-open window and feeling the breeze, Vanessa glanced back at the sound of Rosalyn’s voice. Her friend, whose face rarely lost its composure, wore a look of genuine worry.