Chapter 14

In the manor, four or five servants were dismissed, and the housekeeper Rachelia also left, believing herself to be derelict in her duties. My actions seemed to cause no real harm to the Lloyd Family, but instead implicated innocent servants. Yet I felt no remorse, constantly telling myself: “This is not my fault. Even without me, the Lloyd Family would have scapegoated the innocent, just as they once used me.”

A lie repeated a thousand times becomes the truth. At this moment, I was like the man who covers his ears to steal a bell, turning a blind eye to the unease and guilt in my heart, dismissing them as meaningless emotions. To me, nothing in this world was more important than revenge.

In recent days, the Lloyd Family was shrouded in gloom and despair. The viscount paced anxiously in his room: “What should we do? The bank is pressing us for repayment again.”

The viscountess fanned herself rapidly and asked urgently, “Is there nowhere else we can borrow money from?”

“Borrow! Borrow! Borrow! That’s all you know!” the viscount roared angrily. “If not for Freya causing all this disgrace, we wouldn’t be in such a state. Now, who would marry them? Their reputations are ruined, no different from those lowly social butterflies! Maybe they should become social butterflies themselves—at least they could earn some money and spare us this humiliation.”

The viscountess comforted him, “Enough, don’t be angry. Is there really no way to borrow money? Surely some merchants eager to climb the social ladder would lend to us. We could lower ourselves and mingle with them.”

“Shut up!” the viscount cut her off. “Our family already married a merchant’s daughter once, and that alone made us the laughingstock of noble circles. Now, to borrow money, we must grovel before those lowly merchants? Then our family truly becomes a joke among high society, and we’ll never hold our heads high again.”

“Then what should we do?” the viscountess asked cautiously. “Should we dismiss more servants from the manor or collect rent from the tenants early?”

“If we do that, the nobles of Yorkshire will immediately know we’re in financial trouble, and no one will lend to us then.”

“This won’t work, that won’t work—are we just supposed to wait helplessly?”

“I think… perhaps we could talk to that Austin boy again,” the viscount said, stroking his short beard. “We’re all part of the Lloyd Family. He surely wouldn’t ignore our plight—maybe he’d lend us money.”

“Fine, it seems that’s our only option now. Let’s invite that boy over again and hope his sharp tongue spares some face for us elders.”

“Spring came early in Yorkshire. The sea breeze brought warm currents and drizzling rain, shrouding the land in mist, as if the entire world was filled with moisture. Especially in the mornings, thick fog blanketed everything, leaving only a blur of white.”

Austin arrived at the manor on such a morning. Unlike his last visit, when he traveled light, this time he brought six footmen, a four-horse carriage, and several fine steeds, making a grand entrance into Baker Manor. The entire manor was busy catering to him alone, as if hosting royalty. To the viscount’s family, Austin was indeed a distinguished guest—after all, anyone who could provide money was a big shot, wasn’t he?

Lizbeth told me that Freya, heartbroken and haggard, barely ate or drank, nor did she bother with her appearance, as if gravely ill. After such a scandal, a young lady’s reputation was ruined. Marrying a noble of equal standing was nearly impossible—even landowners without titles wouldn’t want her.

Now, Freya faces two choices: marry a merchant, or marry a doctor or lawyer. The former means she will lose her respectable status, while the latter means she will lose her comfortable life. Freya neither wants to give up money nor her status. Thus, the hunchbacked Austin, whom she once looked down upon, seems to have become her new hope. This man will inherit the title after her father’s death and is obliged to marry her.

In Freya’s eyes, Lauren has become a thorn in her side. People often say Lauren is young, beautiful, gentle, virtuous, kind, and generous, clearly untainted by scandal. If Austin were to choose a wife between the two sisters, Lauren would obviously have a better chance than her.

Early this morning, a freshly dressed Freya appeared in the hall. As a noble lady, she usually slept until noon, but now, in order to see Austin, who went horseback riding every morning, she rose early.

Freya is indeed a very beautiful woman, which is precisely why Viscount Garrett became infatuated with her. The aging man even wanted to marry a teenage girl. At this moment, Freya was dressed in a dashing black riding outfit, wearing a rose-colored sun hat, holding a small riding crop, looking heroic and stunningly beautiful.

At this time, others were still asleep, and the servants had just finished breakfast. Seeing Freya pacing alone in the hall, they were all startled, as if they had seen a ghost. After a while, Freya finally grew impatient and grabbed a passing servant to ask, “Has Baron Lloyd gone out for his ride?”

“No, Baron Lloyd has not gone out,” the servant replied.

“Why not? Doesn’t he ride every morning?” Freya pressed.

“The baron’s servant sent word this morning that the fog made the roads unclear, so there was no need to prepare the horses.”

“I see,” Freya said awkwardly, forcing a smile. “Is breakfast ready? Hurry up, I’m hungry.” With that, she hurried off to the dining room. The servants exchanged knowing glances and smiled.

In the kitchen, Rhodes said to me, “See, she’s not as clever as Lauren. Early this morning, I saw Lauren’s maid go to the baron to tell him about the fog and the risks of riding, hoping he would stay home. That way, she fulfilled her duty while appearing caring and considerate. Unlike Freya, who made a fool of herself. If the baron hears about this, it’ll probably become a joke.”

Distracted, I only murmured a response. Then Rhodes added, “By the way, how did you offend the baron? Yesterday, I saw him give you a disgusted glance. At a time like this, you really can’t afford to be dismissed.”

This was exactly what worried me. Originally, the baron paid little attention to servants, but when he passed a row of footmen, he stopped in front of one and gave him a displeased look. Suddenly, everything became delicate—especially since this baron was the manor’s honored guest.

The butler, thinking I had displeased the baron, summoned me to his room that evening and sternly said, “The baron seems unhappy to see you. For now, stay out of the drawing room—only the kitchen and outer courtyard are allowed.” My heart sank, fearing the butler might dismiss me. Recently, Baker Manor had laid off many servants, including several junior footmen. Our workload had increased significantly, and from the butler’s tone, it seemed more cuts were coming.

At this moment, the cook Zerah, her face flushed red, interjected: “Don’t worry, the baron should be leaving soon.” Rhodes gave Zerah a surprised look, then smirked teasingly, patting my shoulder as he said: “You’re worried about this kid? How enviable, isn’t it, everyone?” The others in the kitchen joined in the teasing, and Zerah’s face turned even redder. Like a frightened little animal, she hurriedly dashed out of the kitchen. Rhodes laughed uproariously: “She’s so adorable, aren’t you going after her? This is a great opportunity.”

I sighed and said, “Stop making jokes like that, you’ll embarrass Zerah.” But Rhodes replied, “Nonsense, that girl likes you.” Just then, a plump cook glared at me and Rhodes in disapproval, “You brats, stop bothering my girl. Go call Zerah back—we’re short-handed right now, don’t you know? Instead of slacking off and hiding.”

Rhodes gave me a shove and winked at me. With no choice, I chased after her. Outside, the fog was still thick, and the sky wouldn’t clear anytime soon. The damp earth left a trail of footprints from my sheepskin shoes, showing that Zerah had likely gone to the stables to find her uncle Toal.

Through the haze, I saw someone leading a horse out of the stables. As I got closer, I realized it was the baron, dressed in his black riding attire. Austin, as usual, cast a cold glance downward at me. When he saw me, his steps faltered for a moment, but he continued walking forward.

I felt I should apologize and ask for his forgiveness—at the very least, not to show such open disdain in front of others, which could get me expelled from the estate. Yet, I was also afraid of saying the wrong thing and angering him further. After all, the last time, he had very harshly told me never to appear before him again. Now I was caught in a dilemma. As I hesitated, he led his horse right up to me.

“Good morning, my lord.” I bowed to him. He took out a white handkerchief, covered his mouth, and coughed lightly before looking down at me.

The atmosphere felt stiff, so I spoke up: “My lord, are you going riding? The weather doesn’t seem safe—perhaps wait until the fog clears.” He didn’t reply but kept his gaze fixed on me. Then, suddenly, he tightened the reins, leaped onto the horse’s back, and galloped away like the wind, vanishing into the thick white mist in an instant.

I stared in the direction he had disappeared, utterly baffled. Unable to make sense of it, I gave up and turned toward the stables. Sure enough, Zerah was there with her uncle. When she saw me, her face flushed, and she lowered her head shyly, murmuring, “Mr. Brant, what brings you here?”

“Just call me Toker—I’m hardly deserving of ‘Mr. Brant.'” I replied with a smile. At this, the girl’s face turned even redder.

“The cook wants you back, Zerah.” As soon as I said it, she bolted from the stables like a startled deer, turning briefly to whisper: “Thank you, Toker.”

After Zerah had gone, Uncle Brant said to me: “That girl’s as timid as a rabbit and so shy. But she’s kind-hearted and hardworking—a good girl.” I smiled in agreement, silently sharing his sentiment.

Uncle Brant laughed heartily and clapped me on the shoulder: “Young man, I heard you were kicked out of the drawing room yesterday. If you’ve got nothing to do, help me chop some firewood.” With that, he led me to a small grove behind the stables. Several young cypress trees lay felled, and a rusted axe was lodged in one of the stumps.

I took off my coat, grabbed the axe, and started chopping wood. Uncle Brant brought over his rickety wagon and said to me, “Help me chop some more. I’m heading to town now and will bring you some wine when I return.”

“Go ahead, leave it to me.” I nodded in reply. As he left, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Young lads sure do attract the girls’ attention.”