Translator: Nox

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Your Ryan

<Chapter 1>

Chapter 1: The New Steward

If someone were to ask about Feltham, most people would call it a pleasant village to live in.

Fertile land, moderately cleared forests, abundant hunting grounds, and a river that has flowed quietly for centuries without major flooding.

The village, embracing all these features, is lined with quaint houses that have been repaired and gradually expanded by ancestors over generations.

At sunset, the rooftops glow golden under the warm sunlight.

Thus, Feltham was an excellent village for noble gentlemen from the distant, bustling capital to enjoy their retreats.

A village well-deserving of love from the dignified and wealthy.

But that was merely the wish of Feltham residents who hoped for visits from the high and mighty.

Since the war ended last year, the world has been changing rapidly.

Now, railways were even reaching remote villages, and people could travel to farther worlds more quickly.

Because of this, among the nobles of the capital, Newham, grand tours where one could meet more diverse people were all the rage, rather than boring countryside visits.

In an era where cross-channel ferries were always fully booked, and rumors circulated that driving a hackney cab in the port could earn more money than a rural landowner.

Eloise Serverton was painting at home.

“Miss, you must eat.”

While nobles in the capital wake up past noon for a late first meal, such customs didn’t apply in Feltham.

Especially not for Eloise, the only daughter of Sir Burton.

<To protect the young lady’s health, she must live a life similar to farmers in a place with clean air. That is, she must wake up early, eat early, and have three meals a day.>

When the doctor who examined Eloise as a child said that, Eloise’s mother, Mrs. Grace Serverton, wept as if her world had collapsed.

Her daughter, whom she had planned to take to Newham’s social scene as soon as her health improved, was now told she must remain buried in the countryside for life.

But Eloise, the person in question, secretly curled the corners of her mouth under the covers.

Finally! I never have to go to that dirty, smelly, crowded Newham or the like!

While girls her age naturally dreamed of Newham’s social scene and glamorous streets filled with goods, Eloise disliked such bustle.

Murky air, crowds, and a life where every minute, every second, she had to be mindful and careful with every word.

Compared to that, how free Feltham was!

Although she had come down here to treat an illness of unknown cause, the moment she first saw this place, twelve-year-old Eloise decided she would love Feltham forever.

And now, at twenty-six, past marriageable age, living while hearing her mother’s sighs, Eloise still loved this Feltham.

“Miss!”

“I’m coming down now!”

At the increasingly loud calls from the maid Emily, Eloise sighed and put down her charcoal.

She had recently started drawing people instead of nature. But perhaps because she lacked a proper model, her paintings weren’t making much progress.

“Oh dear, look at your hands. You should take off your apron too!”

“Emily, you’re only eighteen, but you seem to nag more than my mother.”

“Even if I were four, I would’ve said this much. Go wash your hands and come back!”

Though the maid’s attitude toward the household’s young lady was rudely blunt to an unbelievable degree, no one in the Serverton family pointed it out.

Emily was a diligent maid and also Feltham’s best cook.

Moreover, she was so loyal that if she saw anyone insulting the Serverton family, she would charge at them like a fighting cock and inevitably make them cry.

Thus, such worried nagging was something she could endure.

After all, if she complained, she might end up with a poorly seasoned stew just for herself.

For the Serverton family, that was the second most dreaded thing after missing Sunday church.

When Eloise returned after washing her hands, the goose let loose in the front yard honked.

“Lancelot, stop that!”

The goose, bearing the name of a Round Table knight far beyond its bravery, lowered its flapping wings at Eloise’s shout.

“How clever.”

Praising it, Eloise tossed a handful of barley Emily had been holding onto the yard, then greeted the mail carrier waving a letter.

“Good to see you, William. Is everything alright in Cambon?”

Cambon was the city closest to Feltham and large enough to maintain a social scene.

Mrs. Serverton had given up on taking Eloise to Newham’s social scene.

But that didn’t mean she completely abandoned opportunities to join gatherings of cultured and elegant ladies.

<No matter how much you live in the corner of Feltham, you are a lady! You must never forget that!>

Because of that, Eloise had to attend social gatherings in Cambon once a month, led by her mother’s hand.

But that too faded as Eloise began to be called an old maid.

Mrs. Serverton couldn’t bear her daughter being pointed at as a problematic woman.

Thanks to that, Eloise now only made a brief appearance about once a season before returning.

“As always, it’s quite lively. Since the full discharge of regular soldiers except for the standing army is complete, many soldiers have returned to their hometowns. Because of that, the young ladies in Cambon can’t sleep. They’re fainting left and right, dropping handkerchiefs at the sight of red coats. Why else would the mayor order more benches placed everywhere?”

The mail carrier William shook his head as if exasperated.

Hearing his words, Eloise could vividly picture the situation in Cambon.

The war with the neighboring country, which lasted over ten years, ended last year. Gloriously, the war ended in victory.

Thanks to that, immense reparations also reached the soldiers who fought for the country.

Survivors would receive pensions as reward for offering their lives and loyalty for the homeland.

Honor and money. And if they returned safely, a robust physique recognized for its strength.

While Newham had many high-status and wealthy individuals, in places like Cambon or Feltham, a discharged soldier was an excellent catch, hard to come by.

As proof, just a month ago, Mr. Courtney, a notable figure in Cambon, was so overjoyed that his eldest daughter was marrying a soldier awarded the White Lion Medal, he gifted Highland whiskey to all his acquaintances.

Having secretly sipped it behind her father’s back, Eloise fell in love with its aroma and taste.

Since then, she sincerely prayed that Mr. Courtney, who had five more daughters, would acquire another soldier son-in-law.

Anyway, it was clear that Cambon, with such prospective grooms loitering about, would be noisy.

“Here, your mail.”

William handed over a heavy bundle of letters tied with string from his bag.

Although Sir Burton lived in Feltham because of his daughter, he was originally a somewhat famous history professor in Newham.

Even retired, his reputation hadn’t faded. Thus, letters often came from university professors seeking his advice.

Assuming these were all such letters, Eloise untied the string when—thud. A conspicuously white envelope fell out.

“Where is that from?”

Perhaps it looked unusual to him too, William lingered, craning his neck.

For a proper person, it’s a virtue not to be curious about the source of others’ letters. But Eloise and William were people who valued curiosity more than such propriety.

“Let’s see. Rupert Derby… Stanford Baron?”

Eloise’s voice unintentionally rose. William’s eyes, listening, also widened.

“Oh, my.Just then, Sir Burton appeared, whether he heard Eloise’s voice or came out due to Emily’s meal urging.

He glanced at Eloise and William once, then took the letter from his daughter’s hand.

“If it’s a letter for me, you should have brought it to me properly.”

“I was just about to bring it to you. I only checked the sender in case it was from a dangerous person.”

“Right, an enemy spy might have sent me a threatening letter, so you checked for me.”

His voice mocked a childhood prank when, at eight years old after reading a spy novel received as a gift, she soaked all his letters in water fearing they might be poisoned. Eloise stuck out her lips.

“Let’s see…”

Saying so, but also seemingly curious, Sir Burton too used a paper knife placed on the windowsill to open the letter.

Inside was stationery as pristine white as the envelope.

As Sir Burton read through it, surprise spread across his face.

“Oh my.”

“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

William, who still hadn’t left, also pricked up his ears, waiting for Sir Burton’s words.

“It says a new steward is coming to Blissbury Manor.”