Chapter 49
Benjamin wore a look of immense pride, as if he were basking in his own brilliance. Jacqueline paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied the boy with growing suspicion.
Noticing her scrutiny, Benjamin tilted his head, a mask of innocent confusion on his face. Jacqueline spoke with deliberate intent.
“Did you happen to mention the concept of Fauvism to Olivia?”
“Um… no.”
“I see. If you didn’t, Olivia might have been quite bewildered by my painting. We really must sit down and have a proper lesson on the Fauvist style next time we meet. After all, art isn’t something one can simply label as ‘good’ or ‘bad.’”
“…Yes, Miss Somerset.”
Benjamin’s eyes darted nervously, and he quickly looked away from her.
“Actually, when Miss Olivia saw your painting, she started rolling around on the floor…”
William’s return with the tea service cut the conversation short. Startled, Benjamin clamped a finger over his lips in a frantic silent plea.
“Olivia saw my painting?” Jacqueline asked, her tone deceptively casual.
“Hmm.” William cleared his throat awkwardly as he set the tray down, then beat a hasty retreat.
Benjamin seized the chance to pivot the conversation.
“What is Southfield like, Miss Somerset? I’ve never been, and I’m very curious.”
“Southfield? It’s a tranquil, sleepy place—the sort of countryside village where meadows and sheep stretch as far as the eye can see. Do you like sheep, Benjamin?”
“I’ve never seen one in person, so I couldn’t say.”
Benjamin shook his head. Jacqueline watched him with a warm smile, wondering when this usually reserved child had become so chatty.
“I’ll tell you all about it. Just listen while you enjoy your cookies.”
Simply sitting across from the boy and engaging in this light, trivial banter filled the hollow ache in her chest with warmth. Benjamin had become her solace, her quiet sanctuary.
Jacqueline’s voice softened with genuine affection.
“You’ll see so many sheep there that you’ll eventually grow bored of them. There are probably more sheep in Southfield than there are ants in the manor’s garden.”
“Really?”
Benjamin’s eyes went wide, clearly doubting such a scale was possible. Jacqueline gave a confident, playful nod.
“Truly. Though, you’ll have to get used to the smell of sheep droppings everywhere you step.”
Benjamin suppressed a giggle at the mention of “droppings,” then added with sudden gravity, “I’d very much like to visit one day.”
“Yes.”
Jacqueline’s eyes crinkled with tenderness as she looked at him.
In that moment, she reached a silent resolution: regardless of what path she chose, she would never allow Benjamin to suffer because of it. If her decisions ever brought tears to his eyes, she would ruthlessly discard whatever sat on the other side of the scales.
“Someday, we shall go together.”
“Yes, Miss Somerset.”
Benjamin kicked his legs happily while sipping his lemonade. Jacqueline turned her gaze slowly toward the window.
The pale spring leaves had matured into a deep, vibrant emerald. During her brief time away from the manor, the foliage had grown thick, and the rhythmic drone of the cicadas had intensified.
—Then please make a wise decision.
Just as Parker O’Brien had advised, she was weighing her options carefully to reach a prudent conclusion—one that would allow her to protect Windsor, Benjamin, and her mother without sacrificing any of them.
Later, Jacqueline sat alone at the dining table, her eyes fixed on the steady glow of a candle. Whenever she lowered her guard, her mother’s cold, accusatory face flickered in her mind’s eye.
—If you don’t intend to ruin my life, Jacqueline, you will seek out Mr. O’Brien the moment you reach the capital.
The sharp, biting voice rang in her ears, as vivid as if her mother were standing right beside her. Yet, she still hadn’t gone to see the lawyer.
“Mother will collapse if she ever discovers the truth,” she whispered.
The candle flame wavered at her breath, a mirror of her own fragile state. Her inner resolve felt like a thin reed, trembling at the slightest gust of wind.
Three years ago, following her father’s accident, she had survived hardships that would have broken most people. She had convinced herself she was strong—no longer a pampered flower, but a hardy weed that could withstand any storm.
But she had been wrong. She was still that same helpless child, drowning in indecision when forced to choose between her parents, until she finally dissolved into tears.
—Once we resolve this matter, His Majesty will welcome us back to the capital. He might even make a public declaration before the entire nobility. He could name me as one of his most trusted confidantes. Then, Jackie, we will make a grand return to society. Imagine the pride—everyone will look at us with pure envy.
“Mother, we are no longer the illustrious Somerset family of old,” she murmured to the empty room.
In the dancing light of the candle, her mother’s imagined face glared back with ferocity. Jacqueline offered a pained, bitter smile.
—After everything I’ve sacrificed for you! If you won’t even stand by me, what am I supposed to do? How can you, of all people, treat me this way? Just tell me to die! If that’s what you want, I’ll do it!
Jacqueline pressed her hands over her ears, desperate to drown out the screeching voice, but the words only grew louder and more piercing.
—Your father would never have stood for this behavior! Are you only acting this way because he’s gone?
“No, Mother. I am simply trying to face reality…”
The dining room door creaked open. Jacqueline instantly dropped her hands, straightened her posture, and turned with practiced grace.
“You’re late, Lord Preston. Dinner began three minutes ago…”
She trailed off, the words dying in her throat when she realized who was there. William adjusted his spectacles and looked at her.
“Lord Preston is taking his meal in the guest dining room.”
Jacqueline was struck dumb. Seeing her stunned expression, William offered a look of quiet apology.
“He has requested that you dine alone from now on.”
“Lord Preston said that?”
Jacqueline echoed the words as if they were in a foreign language. Her eyes searched William’s, her pupils trembling. A sudden, biting chill settled in her chest.
It was a hauntingly familiar sensation.
Jacqueline gave a vacant nod. She remembered the day she had left her aunt’s home to find work in the capital. She had tried to embrace her mother then, too.
Furious at the thought of being left behind in the country, her mother had erupted in rage, and Jacqueline had been forced to play the role of the comforter.
—I have to find work to support us. We cannot live off Aunt’s charity forever. Since we have no home of our own, I’m going to apply as a governess. I’ll be living in someone else’s house, so I can’t take you with me.
—What a convenient lie! You just want to discard me in this backwater while you go back to the capital alone! I’m nothing but a burden to you, aren’t I? A nuisance!
—It isn’t like that, Mother. I’ll save every penny and find a place for us to live together soon.
Jacqueline had reached for her mother’s hand. In that moment—
—Enough!
Her mother had violently recoiled, wrenching her hand away. Jacqueline had stared blankly at her own empty palm. That hand, rejected and unwanted, had hung uselessly in the air.
Tears had surged then, born of a mixture of sorrow that her mother couldn’t see her heart, and a simmering, hurt-filled anger.
Patience had always been Jacqueline’s cross to bear. There were moments when even she felt she might break under the weight of her life. Sometimes, she desperately wanted to lean on her mother, to be the one receiving comfort.
But the duty of patience was hers alone. She was the one who had to soothe her mother’s temper and quiet her storms. Even when her own heart was bleeding, her mother’s needs came first. And yet, her mother had cast her aside without a second thought.
“Yes. Those were his instructions,” William confirmed.
Jacqueline’s gaze drifted down to her hands resting in her lap. The rejected hand felt heavy and limp.
A moment later, she looked up at William and forced a thin smile. Fortunately, she was an expert at masking her pain.
“I understand, William.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
William exited, the door clicking shut behind him.
Jacqueline turned her head slowly. In the flickering light, the image of her angry mother had faded, replaced by the memory of Windsor’s unreadable face.
“Since you no longer bother to season your food before eating, I suppose I have nothing left to nag you about,” she whispered to the shadows, trying to steady herself.
She stood up and clenched her fists. Though her expression was a mask of composure, her heart was a chaotic storm of emotion.
Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, she walked out of the dining room. She kept her spine perfectly straight—as if any slight slump might cause her entire world to finally crumble.
“I have been expecting your call.”
Evan greeted Windsor with a bright, confident smile. Windsor did not immediately respond, his mind instead replaying the report Roman had delivered the previous afternoon.
—It is Mr. Evan Knox.
Roman had moved with impressive speed, his voice tinged with surprise as he shared his findings.
—I’ve verified this through several sources, and he is surprisingly formidable. He graduated second in his class at law school and went straight to Cloud, the premier law firm in the kingdom. As you are aware, Cloud Law Firm is owned by Evan’s father, Count Brandon Knox. And the Count is, of course, one of the King’s most trusted inner circle.
Roman had paused to scratch his head, muttering about how small the world was before continuing.
*—He wasn’t just a figurehead there; he led the counsel on several high-profile cases. You likely remember the Clark merchant ship litigation, my lord. Cloud Law Firm argued using the principle of territoriality, successfully claiming that cargo on a ship outside territorial waters could not be seized as assets of House Clark. It saved their remaining capital and allowed them to rebuild.
—Is it possible he’s just a name on the masthead because of his father? Windsor had asked.
—I looked into that. From the initial strategy to the final courtroom arguments, Evan Knox was the one in the driver’s seat. While his father’s name opened doors, his personal talent is undeniable. He likely stayed under our radar simply because people assumed he was just another privileged son.*
Roman had taken a deep breath before delivering his final assessment.
