Chapter 16

The baron’s four-horse carriage was luxurious, but I had to stand on the rear step, shielding the luggage with my arms against the cold wind. Only now did I realize Austin had taken me away again. This happened years later in my past life, but now…

My rationality told me not to get close to the baron, yet my actions unconsciously did the opposite—drawing nearer, even advancing further. Of course, unlike my past life, no one knew the baron had “special” feelings for me. The Lloyd family remained oblivious, thinking the baron was merely grateful to me. Thus, while they saw me as a pawn, they didn’t pay me much attention.

The clearest sign was that Lauren didn’t bother to flatter me personally but chose my sister as her maid. In my past life, Lauren had openly expressed affection for me. For a noble lady to show favor to a lowly valet—either the lady was foolish, or the valet was. In the end, it was the valet who proved foolish.

Spring arrived swiftly in the royal capital, and the land turned green almost overnight. After days of travel, we reached the baron’s countryside manor outside the capital on a sunny afternoon.

Miles Manor was no less impressive than Baker Manor—if anything, even more expansive. The baron was exceedingly wealthy, owning vast lands that could cover an entire town. According to Kahn, nearly all the farmers in town were the baron’s tenants. He spoke with pride, for as the baron’s personal valet, his status was exceptional. In the manor, the personal valet ranked just below the steward, so his high self-regard was hardly surprising.

Standing on the land of Miles Manor, I was filled with emotions. This was the place where I had lived in my previous life. I spent the most respectable days of my life in this manor, as the personal valet of the manor’s master. Except for the butler, all the servants had to respect and flatter me. Although I was never satisfied with this and even detested such flattery, this respect came from the baron’s unspeakable intentions toward me.

When we arrived at the castle gate, dozens of servants were already waiting at the entrance. Miles Manor was completely different from Baker Manor. The servants here generally wore monotonous dark blue clothing, as silent as their master’s personality. A middle-aged butler greeted the baron in front of the carriage and informed him the moment he stepped down:

“My lord, Count Gerard has come to visit…”

The baron nodded and walked alone toward the grand castle, not even glancing at me. After he left, he never spoke another word to me. Such behavior made me wonder if the contact that day had been just an illusion.

At this moment, a junior valet approached me and said, “Sir, please follow me. I will show you around the manor.”

I followed the valet around the main hall and arrived at the servants’ lounge in the manor. This lounge was not particularly small, but it felt somewhat crowded when many servants gathered together.

Miles Manor had over a hundred servants. In recent years, due to the enclosure movement, a large number of farmers lost their jobs. They flocked to the cities to make a living, becoming workers in mines and textile mills or entering wealthy households as servants.

It is said that in the capital, one-tenth of the population consists of servants, which shows the prosperity of this profession. However, most families usually only hire one or two maids, at most adding a cook and a coachman. Moreover, many families’ maids are little girls adopted from poorhouses. Such maids do not require wages—only food, clothing, and shelter—and even if they make mistakes, they can hardly seek protection. Thus, even some very poor families can afford to hire maids.

Families with an income of around £100 can easily hire two male servants; those with an income exceeding £1,000 can afford ten servants; and families with an income over £5,000 need to hire at least dozens of servants to display their status.

The wealthy must hire servants—it is a symbol of status. Some people, even if not wealthy, follow this trend. You might even see someone as poor as a beggar with a servant by their side. The number of servants became a way for the rich to flaunt their status, representing that they need not lift a finger—even dressing is done for them.

In a large manor, the annual salary of low-ranking servants is around £5, including junior grooms, scullery maids, and kitchen maids; mid-ranking servants earn £10, holding positions such as footmen, serving boys, and gardeners; high-ranking servants earn between £15 and £20, such as personal valets and housekeepers; while elite servants earn between £20 and £50, including butlers, family chaplains, and doctors. This creates a strict hierarchy among servants in large manors. If you are a menial worker, you must never appear before the master to serve tea or water. Once this boundary is crossed, the butler will immediately dismiss you.

Of course, not everyone can become a servant, especially in these large manors. Ordinary people without specialized training need not even think about it. Positions like senior valets even require literacy. Why must someone who serves plates be literate? Because their clients are nobles, their words and actions must align with aristocratic aesthetics—elegant, graceful, composed, and intelligent. Literacy is naturally essential. Thus, even the servants of nobles consider themselves superior, further highlighting the rigid social hierarchy.

Soon, I met Hodgson, the chief butler of Miles Manor. I had dealt with Hodgson before; he was a very strict man who often expressed dissatisfaction with me.

“The footmen’s rooms are on the fourth floor. As the master’s valet, you can have your own bedroom.” Hodgson gave me many instructions in one breath, “No one is allowed to be brought into the castle, no discussion of the master’s affairs is permitted, and no unauthorized use of any items in the manor is allowed.”

He repeated countless “don’ts” before concluding, “You must know your place.” I hurriedly bowed and said, “I will follow your instructions.”

Perhaps because of my humble attitude, the butler’s stern expression finally softened slightly. He also bowed to me and said, “I heard you risked danger to care for the baron. Please accept my gratitude.”

“You’re too kind. It was my duty,” I quickly replied.

“Understanding that makes you a wise man. We must not presume upon our merits, thinking we’ve done the master a favor and thus overstep our bounds.” The butler nodded. “Are you ready? Starting today, you will serve the master.”

The footmen’s rooms and the maids’ rooms were located on the east and west sides of the castle, far apart. It was like a school dormitory, with a main gate guarded daily to prevent scandals.

My bedroom faced the sun, furnished with a wardrobe, a desk, a soft bed, and a small fireplace. Here, I changed into the manor’s uniform for footmen: a dark blue coat and a simple boater hat. I also received a new pair of leather shoes, though the heels were oddly high—apparently, men in the capital now favored such tall, slender footwear.

A footman brought me lunch, which looked lavish, featuring a large slice of ham. Enjoying all this, even I felt a sense of superiority creeping in.

After lunch, I went to the baron’s study. Years later, I saw him hard at work again. He was diligent, often sitting for an entire day signing letters and managing the manor and overseas ventures. Truly, his responsibilities were immense and not to be overlooked.

Compared to Viscount Lloyd, the baron’s efforts stood out starkly. The viscount’s daily routine was little more than waking up, drinking, and sleeping. It was a wonder he could manage his estate at all. If he had already squandered his fortune, what right did he have to seize the fruits of others’ labor through underhanded means? I couldn’t help but smile bitterly—after all, wasn’t I the one who had enabled this?

The baron noticed me and set down his quill. “Settling in?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord. My colleagues have welcomed me warmly.”

The baron studied me for a moment before suddenly remarking, “You suit the manor’s attire well.”

I was momentarily speechless—he often said things that left me flustered. To steer the conversation away, I hastily prepared tea for him. As soon as I placed the cup on his desk, he shook his head gently. “Remember, never place a teacup on my desk. It could spill on important documents.”

“…Yes, sir.” I paused, then immediately removed the cup. It struck me that he had never imposed such rules before. No matter how I served him, he had always accepted it calmly, even my cold indifference.

And so, my life at Miles Manor began. The baron increasingly called me to his side, while his former valet, Kahn, was gradually forgotten.

My position in the manor was secured by the master’s favor, and almost all the lower servants treated me with respect. However, this attention sometimes left me at a loss. The baron’s gaze fell upon me more and more frequently—a prolonged, staring look.

When I first noticed his gaze, he would still shy away somewhat. But later, he began to stare at me unabashedly, making me feel utterly uncomfortable, as if pinned by his eyes. He even had me attend to him intimately, handling private matters like dressing, undressing, and bathing.

I began to wonder if he had fallen in love with me again. That obvious emotion left me conflicted. What did it mean for him to fall in love with me once more?