Chapter 19
When the long winter fades and spring ripens, the social season in the North begins to stir with life. While the season in the capital, Isen, begins in March, those who stayed there to escape the cold start migrating to their townhouses in Windberg one by one by mid-May. They come to enjoy the Northern social season, which officially commences in June.
Spring in Windberg is as beautiful as it is fleeting. Perhaps it feels all the more beautiful because of its brevity. It is a season one can only welcome after enduring a long, harsh frost.
“You want to hold the wedding next month?”
Diane Glenn asked, her face etched with a look of mild surprise. Seated at the head of the round table, Jered met his mother’s gaze with a nonchalant expression.
Today’s luncheon guest was Countess Benford. Victoria, who had sent her husband back ahead of her to stay a few days longer, was scheduled to depart for the Count’s estate after the meal. In essence, this was a farewell luncheon for her.
“I’d like to keep it simple. We have about a month, which should be more than enough time for preparations.”
“Preparations are easy enough, but… well, it has to happen eventually, so I suppose there’s no reason to delay.”
“Then I’ll write to Bishop Seamus. Mother, please take charge of the banquet preparations.”
“Understood.”
Victoria, listening to the exchange between mother and son, knit her brows.
“What is this? Have you decided to marry that Viscount’s daughter? Is it settled?”
“The Duke plans to visit her estate tomorrow. It’s a fine opportunity for a proposal.”
“What?”
Victoria raised her voice, setting her cutlery down with a sharp clatter. The head butler, who had been supervising the service, quietly stepped back.
“Are you serious? You only met that lady for the first time two weeks ago. You’ve only seen her twice in total. You don’t even know her yet.”
“She will make a fine Duchess. What else is there for me to know?”
Jered countered, his lips curving into a mild, placid smile. He continued his meal as if he couldn’t care less that his cousin was gaping at him in near-despair. He calmly took a new dish from the tray offered by the head butler, sliced a piece, and brought it to his mouth with perfect composure.
Jered truly felt he had nothing to hesitate about. He already knew everything he needed to know about the woman.
After last week’s tea party, he had ordered an investigation into the eldest daughter of Viscount Andover. Gathering information through his aides was a standard tactic he employed. To deal with a stranger efficiently, one had to at least grasp their basic reputation.
Rosalyn Eleanor Fairfield was twenty-four years old. As the eldest daughter of the Andover family, she served as the practical mistress of the household. She had two younger brothers and one younger sister, all of whom had decent reputations. Viscount Alfred Fairfield was an average nobleman whose financial management and social life were largely beyond reproach.
Rosalyn’s own reputation was excellent. She was described as noble, polite, and possessing a reserved nature. She had looked after her siblings since her mother’s death, and likely because of that, she had almost no presence in society until now—an age considered somewhat late for marriage.
She had received a few proposals, but no serious marriage talks had ever materialized, nor had she been involved with any particular man. That was the gist of the report.
“She is a fine young lady. You’ll understand what I mean once you see her for yourself,” Diane Glenn added, as if soothing her shocked niece.
“She is a beautiful and dignified lady. She has three siblings, and I hear they are all healthy and kind-hearted. A daughter usually takes after her mother, so I’m sure she’ll provide many children.”
Jered offered no reaction. He feigned ignorance of the fact that the Viscountess had died during her fifth childbirth. To his mother, the only thing that mattered was that the Viscount had successfully sired four children.
“Though her family’s status is a bit modest, it isn’t a major issue. She has the manners and cultivation herself. Most of all, I like that she is the eldest daughter. Eldest daughters have a strong sense of responsibility.”
“Like you, Mother,” Jered interjected lightly with a smile, without looking toward Victoria.
“Still, it’s too soon. There’s no need to rush like this.”
“Trust me, Victoria. Miss Rosalyn will make a good wife. That is the kind of woman the Duke needs.”
At the Dowager Duchess’s words, Victoria fell silent. This time, Jered did not respond with a joke. They all understood the hidden meaning behind those words.
Silence fell over the round table. Having lost his appetite, Jered wanted to end the meal. He lowered his cutlery and took a sip of cold water from his glass.
The luncheon wound down in that lackluster fashion, and little conversation passed until the post-meal tea was served.
There were only brief exchanges—whether a wedding dress could be made within a month, how contacting their regular designer might provide a solution, and that sending out invitations was more urgent than the dress. It was mostly the Dowager Duchess speaking, with her son giving polite, curt replies. Countess Benford continued to signal her disapproval through silence.
The summer dining room at Maxville was glass on all sides. From the ceiling to the walls, everything was transparent, offering a clear view of the rear garden. Flooded with sunlight, this was the favorite space of the Dowager Duchess, who hailed from the South.
“The weather is lovely today as well. It truly is spring.”
Diane Glenn narrowed her eyes as she looked out at the garden. A few roses had bloomed on the vines thick with new leaves. The first roses of the year. For the next month, they would be able to enjoy a feast of roses.
“Spring in the North is just beginning,” the Dowager Duchess murmured, lifting her teacup.
She paid no mind to the silence of her son and niece. She simply gazed with a satisfied look at the lovely rosebuds beyond the glass wall and the spring flowers in full bloom around them.
Fairfield House had been in a state of high alert for several days. Led by the butler and the head maid, every servant was on edge. Even though only one guest was scheduled to visit, the house was more bustling than it had been for a ball of fifty people.
The kitchen, in particular, was burning with a fierce determination. Finest-grade tenderloin, sole, cod, and duck had been ordered for the banquet. Mrs. Tender, the cook, had not only badgered the grocer, insisting everything “must be of the absolute highest quality,” but had also personally inspected every single ingredient before allowing it into the pantry.
The butler and footmen polished the crystal and silverware; the gardeners and laborers neatly trimmed the lawn and shrubs; and the maids beat every carpet and laundered every curtain in the manor. With everyone working as one, the entire estate overflowed with energy.
The one directing this enthusiastic welcome was, without question, the lady of the house—the ‘Viscountess’ of Fairfield House.
“The menu is excellent. Since the Duke has no particular dietary restrictions, we shall proceed with this. However, no roses on the table. He dislikes them.”
“How about lilies?”
“It’s better to avoid those as well. He might be sensitive to scents.”
Rosalyn pondered for a moment while looking at the banquet plan submitted by the butler. What kind of flower? Something scentless and simple. Something even someone uninterested in flowers would find familiar.
“Shall we go with tulips? In a cream color.”
“A dignified choice. I will prepare them.”
“Thank you, Parsons.”
“Not at all, Miss. It’s finally tomorrow.”
“Indeed.”
Rosalyn exchanged a small smile with the butler standing before her.
The telegram from the Duke’s residence had arrived yesterday. The message from the chief aide stated that the Duke would arrive around 5:30 PM in two days, accompanied by five attendants.
The only requests were that there were no specifically avoided foods and that the wine and beverages be served unsweetened. Considering some guests sent long lists of foods they wouldn’t touch, the Duke’s palate seemed quite easy to please—even if he appeared somewhat fastidious and sensitive in other ways.
Ever since the day she attended the tea party, Rosalyn had thought things over carefully. She had concluded that the reason he had been cold to her was likely that something she said or did had offended him.
Nevertheless, she decided to reserve judgment on why he was showing such immense favor as a return visit. While she wasn’t without a glimmer of hope, she was also afraid of being disappointed again. How could she truly know his real intentions?
As the day of complicated feelings drew to a close, the long-awaited morning dawned.
