Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The full moon hung high, casting its glow over the quiet Winston Manor.

After dinner, Herman, as usual, attended to his unfinished business.

Greta pushed open his door, holding a cup of hot milky tea. "Get some rest early, Heli."

"Leave it there. You go to bed first," Herman replied without looking up, dismissing his mother's concern.

Greta didn’t leave. Instead, she brought out a medicine kit and gestured for him to extend his hand.

Herman paused, set down his pen, removed his glove, and offered his left hand.

—A gruesome scar ran across his entire palm, with a burn mark scarring the back of his hand.

As she applied the ointment, Greta said softly, "Oh, I knew you’d neglect yourself when you’re busy. Even if you don’t care about your health, think of the nobles you’ve been trying to court. You need to heal your hand properly, or how will you ever be accepted?"

"Mother," he interrupted coldly, "you don’t need to worry about these things."

Greta’s words caught in her throat. After a long silence, she murmured meekly. "Alright."

Under the kerosene lamp, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes seemed more pronounced. Her hands, chapped and frostbitten, carefully smoothed the ointment over his wounds.

Herman suddenly thought of those water-blue eyes.

She had probably never seen hands like these in her life.

In the Elme slums, a young woman with a child was at the very bottom of society. Yet, with these very hands, she had survived one harsh winter after the next.

Herman stared at the fearsome burns and scars on his palm, and a wave of dull, gray memories washed over him.

He never minded when others brought up his past.

A wretch born in the darkest of places, he had used these hands to fight off wild dogs for food, battle hostile neighbors, protect his mother from her drunken, abusive husband, dig for gold in mines so deep they felt like they’d bury a man alive, and escape a blazing fire that had broken out during a mad scramble for the gold. He had crossed oceans, his every coin soaked in blood—his own and others’—but he didn’t care.

The day he escaped the fire, he was only thirteen. The scar on his left hand felt like a deal with the devil.

He had traded away his conscience, his emotions, even his soul, all to survive. With the one life he had left, he would rise, climb, and reach the very top.

"Heli."

His mother’s voice pulled Herman back to the present.

Greta packed away the medicine kit and sighed softly. "We’re living a life we never even dared to dream of before. I just want you to find a different kind of happiness."

She hesitated before continuing, "Miss Norman isn’t quite what I imagined a noblewoman to be like. I think she’s a good girl. You two..."

"Whether she’s a good girl or not has nothing to do with me," Herman said calmly. "As long as she bears the Norman name and can forge an alliance with the Spencer family, I will marry her."

"But even if it starts this way, it doesn’t mean it can’t lead to something good."

Herman’s gaze flickered.

He recalled the girl with golden hair leaning on her hand, her eyes full of laughter as she looked at him.

The taste of blueberry jam seemed to rise on his tongue again—sickly sweet, slick, disgusting.

"Mother, let me put it another way so you might understand better," he sneered. "Without the debt tying them, would a noble lady from a baron’s family ever willingly marry a man of new money like me?"

Greta was stunned into silence.

She didn’t fully understand the conventions among the nobility, nor did she think her son fell short in any way. But she knew that in the Duchy of Ceylon, unseen barriers existed between people.

No matter how wealthy Herman became, he couldn’t single-handedly break through those barriers.

They were from two different worlds, brought together by interest. It was better not to hope for too much.

If Miss Norman could care for Greta as she had today, whether out of sincerity or pretense, that was already enough.

The conversation came to an end without resolution. As the night deepened, Greta stood to leave.

Before going, she hesitated but finally said, "Heli, no matter what, since she’s marrying you, you must treat her well and give her the respect she deserves."

Herman’s hand, holding the pen, paused briefly.

By the time he snapped out of it, his mother’s footsteps had already faded away.

On his way back to his bedroom, Herman passed a door left ajar.

He had already walked past it but took two steps back to peer inside.

Under the flickering lamp, a golden head was tilted against the desk, sound asleep. The quill in her hand was still dipped in ink, leaving a smudge.

Herman picked up the letter and read a couple of lines. It was another ramble, just like last time—"Dear Audrey, I hope you’re doing well... Today, I made blueberry cakes, and they were a great success. Mrs. Cooper praised my talent, and even Mr. Herman was so caught up in eating them that he forgot to speak..."

Herman scoffed. Reading this far, he knew the entire letter was nonsense, filled with pure fantasy.

"...And another surprising discovery—we’re getting married on the same day! Isn’t that astonishing? It feels like a godsend! I hope you’ll wear a sapphire crown too! If possible, I’d love to hire a painter to capture the moment. Mom, Dad, and my aunts will be able to..."

It ended abruptly here, the ink smudged into a blur.

Herman’s gaze lingered for a long moment before he set the paper back in place and laid her arm back to its original position.

His silver-gray hair brushed against the girl’s pale cheek.

Feeling the tickle in her dream, she scratched it.

Herman had already turned and left.

The cool summer night breeze. After taking a few steps, he paused, glanced back at the window left open, and noticed her light clothing.

The next morning, Audrey was awakened by the first light of dawn.

Her fluffy golden hair tousled, she rubbed her eyes and tried to get up, only to feel a sharp ache in her numb arm.

"Ah!" she exclaimed softly, catching Lucy’s attention.

Seeing the situation in the room, Lucy immediately understood what had happened.

"Miss, this cannot happen again," Lucy said sternly, a rare seriousness in her tone. "The maid on duty last night was terribly irresponsible. How could she let you fall asleep at the desk? If you were to fall ill, it would be no joking matter."

In this era, even a minor illness, if neglected, could be fatal.

Audrey didn’t dare talk back and instead smiled, trying to soothe Lucy.

Once the feeling returned to her arm, she stood up, and a blanket slid from her shoulders.

"Did someone come to my room last night?" Audrey held up the blanket and sniffed it, detecting a faint cedar scent.

Lucy shook her head, her expression softening as she glanced at the tightly shut window.

Audrey said: "Maybe it was a maid passing by?"

Lucy said helplessly: "Oh, miss, if they were that considerate, why didn’t they just wake you up?"

Audrey had no reply and quickly put the matter out of her mind.

Mr. White’s mother had already arrived, and the wedding was approaching. Her top priority now was to discuss with Herman whether they could hire an artist!

She hurried excitedly toward the second-floor study but, before she could get close, she heard voices inside.

"Oh, sir! What a fine morning—perfect for sleeping in! You called me here so early; it had better be for something of utmost importance, or my wife will surely curse you behind your back."

"Enough nonsense. Buy all of these."

"A sapphire crown? A wedding dress with diamond embellishments? And hiring an artist?!"

Audrey’s eyes widened as she crept closer, peeking through the crack in the door.

Inside, the silver-haired man coolly handed over a check: "Is it difficult?"

"Not at all!" Charles blinked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So, young bachelors finally wise up."

Outside, Audrey froze, her mind racing to figure out what that meant. Distracted, her skirt hem gave away her presence.

Inside, a pair of silver-gray eyes caught a glimpse of the lace hem flashing by. A cold voice spoke: "Mrs. Cooper requested it. She said we should hire an artist to paint the wedding day."

It was common for wealthy families to hire artists at the time, so this wasn’t unusual.

Audrey quickly accepted the explanation.

She was happy again! Mrs. Cooper was so thoughtful!

Noticing the skirt still hadn’t disappeared, Herman frowned and rapped his knuckles on the desk. "How much longer do you plan to eavesdrop?"

Charles immediately composed himself and stepped outside, coming face-to-face with a sheepish-looking Audrey. "Miss Norman?"

Audrey waved awkwardly, forcing a smile: "Hi, Charles."

Herman glanced at Audrey, who was now being escorted in by Charles, and said expressionlessly, "You heard everything just now. If there’s anything else you want to add, tell Charles."

Audrey was stunned by the unexpected generosity and spent a moment ticking off on her fingers: "No, no, that’s too much! Could I go back and make a list for you, Mr. White?"

Herman looked up. "Do you think I have time to do shopping for you?"

Charles tactfully tipped his hat. "At your service, miss."

Audrey smiled shyly, then proceeded to list off a long string of items unabashedly.

Charles showed no concern either, and the two of them teamed up to spend Herman’s money lavishly.

Fortunately, the capitalist was anything but stingy when it came to money, allowing them to splurge freely.

When Charles had nearly finished taking notes, Audrey lingered, unwilling to leave. She stammered, "Mr. White..."

Herman glanced at her twice, his words cold despite his warm tone: "The last person who took three minutes to spit out a few words was fired and now collects manure on the estate. Are you interested in volunteer work?"

Audrey immediately spoke rapidly: "Could you give me some spending money? I want to buy—"

Before she could finish the word "buy," a check was swiftly torn off with a flick and held out to her between two fine fingers.

"Go."

Seeing the row of zeros on it, Audrey felt that the cold silver-gray eyes opposite her were now incredibly warm!

"Right away!"

Audrey turned and hurried out, clutching the check and giving two eager kisses on it!

She had only expected a small sum of one or two hundred, but this was a full thousand Ceylonese rupees—enough to buy a small house!

Herman White—such a good man!

Audrey spun joyfully in the hallway, her lace-trimmed skirt spreading like a flower.

Behind her, Charles smiled and raised an eyebrow. "See, this is how young people should be. Maybe her joy will rub off on you, young but stodgy Mr. White."

"Thanks, but no need." Herman looked away. "You should tell that young lady to cherish the time when money can still buy her happiness."

Charles laughed heartily and glanced again at Audrey, who was still spinning her way downstairs.

In the hall, Audrey finally emerged from the joy of her sudden fortune.

Suddenly, she sniffed and brought the check to her nose again.

Aside from the smell of money, there seemed to be a faint hint of... cedar?