Chapter 27

“But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.” The baron was explaining poetry to me, his voice deep and charming. Flipping the page, he said, “This is a classic iambic pentameter sonnet, mainly divided into Petrarchan and Shakespearean styles, with a variant called Spenserian. Their key difference lies in the rhyme scheme. Do you understand?”

“Can I interpret it as a cycle of stressed-unstressed-stressed-unstressed-stressed-unstressed-stressed-unstressed-stressed-unstressed?” I asked uncertainly.

“Exactly, that’s it. You’re very clever,” the baron nodded with a smile. In the sunlight, his brown eyes were unusually bright, and I could even see my reflection in them. He seemed to have been watching me all along, with no intention of ending the lesson. I felt my lunchtime slipping away.

“I should reward you,” he murmured, “Is there anything you’d like?”

“I’m already deeply grateful for your teachings, my lord,” I replied.

“When I studied, my teacher rewarded me based on my achievements. Surely there’s something you’d like?” the baron pressed.

Just then, someone gently knocked on the door.

I quickly stood up from the baron’s desk, straightened my clothes, and headed for the door. The baron’s lessons were a very private affair—usually just the two of us, with no one else knowing. At first, I sat alone on a chair, then beside him, and gradually, the distance between us shrank… If anyone saw us now, they’d surely be shocked.

At the door was Kahn, holding a tray with a letter on it. “Master, this was just delivered by the postman,” Kahn said. The baron, as usual, casually took the letter, sliced open the wax seal with a paper knife, and began reading. However, after glancing at it twice, he suddenly frowned and turned his gaze toward me. Thinking he had some order for me, I quickly bowed, but the baron said, “Toker, you may leave for now.”

I looked up in confusion and noticed the baron’s expression was calm, yet he was studying me with an unfamiliar, probing gaze. I bowed and left the study, feeling curious about the letter’s contents.

For the next three days, the baron did not summon me to serve him. Even when I followed him early in the morning, he soon left with Kahn. This sudden coldness was starkly noticeable because he was usually very affectionate toward me, almost needing me constantly, yet now he had no use for me at all. This unease grew within me, especially when I accidentally saw Rhodes leaving the baron’s study—that feeling peaked.

At that moment, Rhodes also saw me, his expression awkward and strange. Without saying a word, he hurried away. That afternoon, the baron called me into the study. He sat at his desk, a pipe resting on it, the air thick with the scent of tobacco.

From the moment I entered the room, the baron’s gaze remained fixed on me, making me feel restless.

“May I ask, my lord, if you have any orders?” I asked with a slight bow.

“Nothing,” he said calmly. “I think… let’s continue the lesson today.”

“Yes, my lord.” I sat down beside him. However, when I opened the poetry book we were studying, the baron pressed his hand on the cover and shook his head.

“Not this today. Let’s talk about something else.” The baron stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, paced a few steps, and began slowly: “I have a favorite story my father told me. He said, once, a merchant wanted to buy a piece of land, so he hired two agents to evaluate it and see if it was worth purchasing. One said the land was full of dead trees, the stream so narrow you could step over it, and the weeds taller than a man—buying it would surely bring regret. The other, however, said the land had enough firewood to last a lifetime, the stream was wide enough to dig a small pond, and the abundance of weeds suggested fertile soil. In the end, the merchant took the second advice, and the place became a delightful farmstead.”

After finishing the story, the baron looked at me: “What do you think?”

“The story teaches us to see hope in difficult circumstances,” I replied after some thought.

“Yes,” the baron nodded. “But to me, it holds a deeper meaning. Everything has two sides—dig deeper, don’t blindly trust one view. Even if what you see or hear seems disappointing, don’t despair too soon. At least be sure it’s truly so.”

At this point, I believed the baron was about to discuss something concerning me. Sure enough, he placed a sheet of paper in front of me.

“This is my uncle’s recent financial movements. Someone went out of their way to write and inform me. Did you know? He auctioned off everything he could sell, even sculptures and paintings from my great-grandfather’s era in Baker Manor.” The baron’s voice was measured. “Do you know where he spent the money?”

I felt the temperature around me drop with each of the baron’s words. Finally, suppressing my panic, I said, “This… how could I possibly know?”

“Think carefully before answering me,” the baron interrupted, his gaze stern. “You should understand I’m not questioning you without reason. It’s best not to lie to me.”

Time seemed to suddenly stand still, my mind went blank, and sweat seeped from my back. The baron continued to press: “Viscount Lloyd invested all the money in that doomed maritime venture, don’t you have anything to say about it?” He lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“His Lordship was far too reckless…” I replied, my mouth dry. The baron’s eyes suddenly turned icy as he demanded, “Oh? Then why do you think he suddenly made such an imprudent decision?”

“His Lordship is in desperate need of money now, perhaps he saw this as an opportunity, so…” My lie couldn’t continue, for I saw the baron’s disappointed and furious gaze.

He took a deep breath and said calmly, “Fine, I’ll reluctantly believe this was due to the viscount’s own lack of caution. However, I don’t intend to dwell on how he found out about the fifty thousand pounds I lent to the earl, because the earl would never reveal to anyone that he was borrowing money from me.”

Then, the baron shifted his tone: “I inquired about your affairs at Baker Manor, from your ‘good brother,’ that footman named Rhodes. With just one question, he told me everything about you in exhaustive detail. Thanks to his talkative nature—do you know what he said?”

The baron circled me once before placing a hand on my shoulder: “There was one particular night when you had Rhodes cover your duties while you went to seduce the notorious merry widow Berry. That very night, my cousin Freya was accused of dalliance with a footman, ruining her reputation. What do you have to say about that?”

I struggled to breathe, forcing myself to speak: “I regret my past dissolute behavior, and I swear I’ll never…”

“Silence!” the baron shouted, cutting me off. “Don’t take me for a fool! I had people investigate—the game that night was proposed by none other than Berry, and she had been with you beforehand. Are you telling me this has nothing to do with you?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said through clenched lips.

“I initially thought you were just greedy for wealth, hence seducing a wealthy widow, but I underestimated you,” the baron said coldly. “What vile purpose lies beneath this quiet facade of yours? Why did you frame my uncle’s family?”

“I didn’t, I…” I stammered.

“I despise nothing more than being lied to to my face!” the baron said furiously. “Because it’s not just foolish—it’s ugly!”

I helplessly closed my eyes. He knew—he knew everything. The things I’d done in secret, thinking no one would ever find out, were now laid bare by him. What should I do? Could I tell him the truth?

No, I couldn’t. If I told him, he’d surely think I’d gone mad. Up till now, the viscount’s family had never wronged me. On the contrary, they hired me as a servant, gave me a livelihood, and even helped my family. Calling them “benefactors” wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Yet, I’d been scheming against them in the shadows—I sounded like a treacherous villain.

What would the baron think of me? Would everything I’d done come to nothing?

“Have you nothing to explain?” the baron pressed urgently. “Why did you do this?”

“I… I can only tell you that I hate Viscount Lloyd, I hate them all!” I stood up, meeting the baron’s eyes squarely, and shouted the words that had festered in my heart for years.

“Why?” the baron continued to demand.

Instead of answering, I asked in return, “Why didn’t you just hand me over to the constables?”

“Because I want to know the reason,” the baron said, seething. “I need to confirm I wasn’t wrong about you.”

“I can’t tell you why.”