Chapter 20

The dining room at Miles Manor resembles those of all aristocratic households, featuring a long table capable of seating dozens. The table is draped with a white tablecloth embroidered with chrysanthemum patterns, adorned in the center with freshly picked white roses, their excess leaves trimmed, arranged in blue-and-white porcelain vases edged with gold. Yet, seated before this elegant and beautiful table were two silent figures, dining quietly with almost no conversation. I thought to myself, they must have no common topics between them at all.

Lady Lloyd had tried multiple times to break the ice, but to no avail. Her son remained taciturn, seemingly determined to maintain this state. “The lamb chops today are quite good,” Lady Lloyd ventured tentatively. The butler Hodgson, anxious, quickly interjected, “They are prepared with honey and this year’s newly brewed red wine as a glaze. The chef pays his respects to you, my lady, and hopes you enjoy it.”

“Of course, convey my thanks to him,” Lady Lloyd turned to Austin. “How do you find the taste?” Austin merely toyed lightly with his cutlery, not even bothering to speak, and nodded expressionlessly. Lady Lloyd took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “This castle is so dreary, and the architectural style is dull, just like this dining room—far too masculine. I can even feel the cold draft from the doorway. It could use some redecorating, don’t you think, Hodgson?”

Hodgson remained silent out of embarrassment. “Cold and lifeless, like a tomb. If I weren’t here, there wouldn’t be a single guest for years on end, heh…” Lady Lloyd’s “heh” carried a hint of sarcasm. Yet Austin continued eating calmly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“I am your mother! Can”t you even look me in the eye when you see me?!” Lady Lloyd suddenly raised her voice, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. The awkwardness in the air was almost suffocating. The baron set down his cutlery, lifted his eyes, and though his brown eyes lacked vitality, they exuded determination and coldness. Faced with such a gaze, Lady Lloyd seemed frozen, her breathing even growing faint.

“Mother is right. This house is indeed too old. Perhaps it’s time for some repairs,” the baron remarked indifferently. Hodgson bowed respectfully and replied, “As you say, my lord.”

“As for guests…” The baron raised his glass of red wine to toast Lady Lloyd, chuckling lightly: “Hehe…” This ‘hehe’ carried a somewhat different undertone, causing Lady Lloyd’s face to instantly pale. The baron wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, stood up, and said, “I have official duties to attend to, so I must excuse myself. Mother, please make yourself at home.”

After the baron left the dining room, I hurriedly followed his footsteps. In truth, the baron had no shortage of guests—many visited him daily. From government officials and noble lords to estate tenants and merchants, the baron seemed perpetually busy, with an endless stream of visitors. Unless you stood by his side, it was truly difficult to grasp the full extent of his affairs.

No one who came to see him could ignore his overwhelming presence. Every word he spoke and every action he took was methodical and well-structured. Moreover, he possessed remarkable self-control. Whether faced with arrogant disdain or fawning flattery, the baron always remained composed. At times, I even felt a sense of pride, as I was one of the few who had managed to provoke his anger on several occasions.

Mr. Morton had been waiting in the small parlor for nearly two hours. He was a cotton supplier hoping to secure financial assistance from the baron. Thus, he had come to visit a week prior.

“Honorable Baron, I wish you a pleasant noon.” Mr. Morton doffed his hat with exaggerated courtesy.

“Good day, Mr. Morton.” The baron gestured to the seat opposite him. “Please, have a seat.”

Mr. Morton sat down cautiously, accepting the cup of black tea I had prepared for him, his demeanor exceedingly careful. “My lord, regarding the matter I mentioned earlier… what do you… think…?”

“I respect your ideas and courage, but I regret to say I cannot accept your proposal,” the baron replied.

Morton immediately looked crestfallen. Gazing at the baron, he asked, “Might I ask why? Were the terms I proposed not favorable?”

“On the contrary, the terms you proposed were too favorable—so much so that they border on the unbelievable.” The baron folded his hands as he answered.

Morton spoke with a hint of mockery: “So even the baron fears risks. I’ve heard you’re a man of vision, never hesitating to pursue the greatest profits.”

The baron fell silent for a moment. Instead of directly answering Morton’s question, he asked, “Setting sail from Serbia, passing Bathurst in Africa directly to the port of Luanda, rounding the Cape of Good Hope, heading to Tamatave without stopping in India, and proceeding straight to A Town in Southeast Asia—is this the nautical route you described to me?”

Morton replied with a confident smile: “Yes, my lord. The newly built sailing ships at Liverpool’s harbor are said to move forward even without wind, allowing us to bypass the Gulf of Guinea and the Indian Ocean entirely, drastically reducing shipping time. You are a leader unafraid of risks—surely you can see the profit and potential in this?”

“Mr. Morton, I agree with your perspective. The potential is indeed enticing, but I must also say your ideas are overly idealistic and lack practical grounding. Blind faith in sailors’ boasts is insufficient,” the baron responded calmly.

“These are seasoned sailors who regularly travel between Europe and Asia—they cannot be wrong. I’ve personally verified the timing, and it’s absolutely reliable,” Morton argued fervently.

The baron shook his head lightly. “That’s because they set sail in January, when the westward currents off Africa carried their ships smoothly. By the time they reached Europe, they coincidentally caught the southeastern monsoon, hence the speed. However, such luck isn’t guaranteed daily. Once the monsoon shifts, the journey becomes unpredictable. Even with the latest ships, we lack established docks and ports for resupply along the way. Are you certain this route is viable?”

“I… I trust the sailors’ word. You’ve never sailed, nor even been to Europe—you have no idea—”

The baron did not refute, only quietly gazed at Morton. That profound gaze left Morton speechless; many would grow timid under such a look, ultimately unable to argue.

Morton stood up in disappointment, his eyes regretfully fixed on the deep blue carpet beneath his feet: “I regret that you have chosen this path. I must say this is your loss.”

The baron slightly bowed: “I also regret it. I find your ideas quite forward-thinking, but unfortunately, they are not yet mature. You say I am a man who enjoys adventure—I’m afraid I cannot agree. I have never liked taking risks.”

After Morton left, the baron began reading as usual. On such leisurely afternoons, he would always hold a thick book. Judging by the intricate title on the cover, I could imagine it must be a book that would make one drowsy. The baron had a wide range of interests, spanning literature, science, music, and medicine—there seemed to be no field he wasn’t curious about.

He always ordered the postman to buy him the latest books from the capital’s bookstores, so you would surely be amazed by his extensive collection. The study was lined with bookshelves on all sides, with the highest shelves requiring a ladder to reach. I often wondered if the baron could truly read so many books, which explained why he treated the library at Baker Manor with such disdain.

I remember a time when the baron was deeply engrossed in books about infectious diseases. One day, he curiously asked me, “Who taught you to place a cold towel on my forehead back then?” I replied, “It was a surgeon… he treated people in the slums. I don’t know his name.” In truth, I had a benefactor in my past life. At the time, I was constantly on the run, living in hardship and often falling ill. While working at a factory in the capital’s port, I met a kind doctor who cared for me when I had a fever, using this very method. Not only did he treat me for free, but he also bought me food. However, to avoid questioning by the constables, I sneaked away without even remembering his name.

The baron shook his head after hearing this: “It seems that surgeon was more skilled than many physicians. The doctors around us—no matter what illness you have—only know bloodletting, baths, and laxatives… They should learn more about the experimental achievements of excellent doctors from other countries.” In short, the baron was unlike other nobles. After witnessing the ways of Viscount Lloyd’s family and then observing Austin, you’d realize how vast the differences between people could be.

On such a leisurely afternoon, Austin was peacefully sipping tea and reading, yet trouble could still arise at any moment. With hurried footsteps, the study door was rudely pushed open as Lady Lloyd barged in. She was panting, her face pale, yet her chin remained haughtily raised. The hand fan that matched her deep blue velvet gown was tightly clutched in her hand, veins bulging on the back of it.

Pointing the fan at me, she shouted, “Get out!” I was startled by her rudeness—after all, noblewomen were usually graceful and gentle, rarely behaving so crudely. “Mother, what’s the matter?” the baron asked directly.

I did not leave the room, nor could I, as the master of the house had not ordered me to. Even if a guest was furious, I couldn’t act without instruction. “You! How could you treat me like this!” Tears instantly welled up in Lady Lloyd’s eyes as she gritted her teeth, seemingly struggling to hold them back.

“Has one of the servants offended you? Tell me, and I will deal with them,” the baron said.

“Are you doing this on purpose? Are you deliberately humiliating me?” Lady Lloyd finally lost control, tears streaming down her face.

“I am your mother, and it’s fine if you refuse to take care of me. I came to visit you, yet you let these lowly people control me! Do I not even have the right to walk freely in this manor?”

“Mother, you are an esteemed guest of Miles Manor. Your visit brings joy to everyone here. All the servants will treat you with the utmost respect and obedience. But as a guest, please also observe basic etiquette. Without the host’s permission, do not wander freely in another’s home—this is the most fundamental courtesy, something even a child knows to follow.”