The next day, from early morning, people began visiting Mr. Severton's house as if on urgent business.
However, despite their worried faces, the pretexts were trivial.
Someone asked to borrow a Bible. Someone came to return a pen they'd borrowed the other day. Someone wanted to check if a missing duck had wandered into their yard.
But anyone, seeing that all the visitors were either mothers with daughters of marriageable age or the daughters themselves, could guess their true purpose.
They stole glances at the table Emily had been diligently setting since midday, noting what dishes she was laying out and where the guest would be seated.
They would then send a messenger boy to discover what kind of meat Mr. Severton had ordered for his guest.
"He ordered a whole lamb."
"A *whole lamb!* Apparently, this is a very welcome guest."
From this, people concluded that Mr. Severton liked the new manager.
"Mr. Severton is a gentleman, polite to everyone. Perhaps he is simply paying respects to his successor."
"And yet, the last time the professor from Cambon stopped by, he didn't order lamb. So he clearly likes this manager very much."
"Have you seen the silver Emily got out? She polished it so much it's blinding."
Mr. Severton's dinner tonight had already become the talk of Feltham.
And while everyone was rejoicing at the arrival of the new manager, only Eloise was dying of anxiety.
---
*"How so..."*
Her father, returning from Blissbury yesterday, had been completely calm. It was as if Sergeant Thornton hadn't told him anything.
Her father apparently thought she had left some landscape sketch from the drawing room there, and did not ask any more questions about the drawing that was supposed to be returned to her.
*"Has he decided to hush up the matter?"*
However, it would indeed be awkward to hand over such a drawing with the words: *"Your daughter, you know, draws things like this."*
Perhaps he'd decided not to tell her father anything and return it quietly.
"If so, then that's, of course, good, but..."
*Bring it back.*
What kind of sophisticated cruelty was this?
If he'd decided to keep quiet, he could have burned it or returned it somehow discreetly. But for some reason, he'd specifically sent word through her father that he would return the drawing.
There was something unpleasant, twisted about it.
And that wasn't the only thing that was strange.
"He turned out to be a very educated young man. Both his manners and speech reveal a man of good breeding. Yes, Baron Stanford has good reason to trust him."
*And where did that dirty fellow seem like that to him?*
She didn't dare ask again, of course. Otherwise, she would have had to explain what had happened between them.
After this, Mr. Severton never ceased to praise Sergeant Thornton.
Although they'd only talked for a few hours, he seemed delighted with the man.
Otherwise, someone so selective about his acquaintances would not have invited him to dinner so quickly.
Be that as it may, the sun was setting, and the delicious aroma of roast lamb wafted from the kitchen.
Eloise sat in an armchair in the living room and looked out onto the street.
*"By the way, what does he look like?"*
She remembered black hair and blue eyes. The problem was, in the confusion, she couldn't really remember anything else.
Besides, he'd looked terrible—like a bull wallowing in mud.
He had, of course, washed and changed his clothes for the meeting with her father, but remembering his assertiveness when he'd grabbed her and begun to scold her, she could not at all imagine the well-behaved young man her father had spoken of.
In spring, the days were still short, and sunset was already descending over the hills.
Eloise took her shawl and went outside.
Emily—who would normally have been nagging her to come inside immediately because it was chilly—was busy cooking, while her mother gave orders to the other servants, checking that everything was ready for dinner.
Outside, the sky was ablaze as if on fire.
Eloise looked out over the barley field in front of the house, watching the setting sun.
While she'd been sitting at home all day suffering, it had seemed to her that the sky was collapsing. But now, standing in the wind under the sunset sky and looking at the wide field, all her worries seemed so insignificant.
*"If he wants to, let him speak."*
Her parents wouldn't kick her out of the house. She'd say the book instructed her to draw as much as possible—and what would they do to her?
*"Although, of course, the fact that I drew Lieutenant Colonel Ryan's face on top is a little awkward."*
Now there was only one such drawing left in the world—the one he'd promised to return.
*"As soon as I receive it, I will burn it right away."*
The fireplace in the living room was burning hot today. Just throw the drawing in there, and there would be no more evidence of her shame left in the world.
With this thought, Eloise smiled with satisfaction.
At that moment—
"Judging by the fact that you are here, I have come to the right place."
*—!*
A voice suddenly came from the side, and Eloise started and turned her head.
An unfamiliar man stood before her.
A clean shirt, jacket, and perfectly ironed trousers. An elegant gentleman's suit, as if it had just come from a tailor's shop in Cambon.
In Feltham, only a few people dressed like this. And among the young men, almost no one at all.
So she must have known him—but Eloise was seeing this man for the first time.
However, unlike her, the man acted as if they already knew each other.
"Excuse me, have we met?"
She knew it was extremely impolite to ask such a question of someone she might have been introduced to somewhere. But she was certain she had never seen this man.
And there were good reasons for that: he had such an appearance that, once you saw him, you would never forget.
First, he was so tall she had to tilt her head back slightly to look at him.
In Feltham, this alone would have been enough to make a deep impression. He was undoubtedly the tallest of the young men.
But if one could examine him closely—as now—it would not be his height that would be imprinted in one's memory, but his face.
The first thing that caught her eye was the thick black hair and the contrasting clear blue eyes.
The eye color might have belonged to a goddess's servant in a painting by a great master, but the sharp, masculine features—the line of his jaw and his nose—left no doubt as to his masculinity.
This amazing combination of opposites was surprisingly harmonious and stirred a slight admiration in the viewer.
*"Who is this?"*
Although she had long since left the marriage market, this did not mean she had forgotten how to appreciate male beauty.
She would definitely not forget such a handsome man.
Embarrassed, Eloise realized she'd been staring at him for too long and turned away.
And then she suddenly realized she had met this gaze before.
*Just recently. But when?*
At that moment, the man smiled wryly and spoke again:
"I didn't think you wouldn't recognize me once I changed my clothes."
The voice was caustic.
One that was filled with contempt for his listener...
Hearing this voice, Eloise finally understood who stood before her.
"*Ah!* The manager from Blissbury!"
So that was who it was. That same man. That same brute who'd grabbed her hand, mistaking her for a thieving servant girl!
"Ryan... Thornton."
The man bowed slightly. Then he rummaged in his pocket and handed her a piece of paper.
"I'm glad I met you before I came in. I was just wondering how to return that *awkward* thing to you."
Realizing what he was handing her, Eloise snatched the drawing from his hands in horror—like a hawk snatching a chicken.
Fearing that someone would see, she quickly tucked it under her shawl and looked around.
*It must be the will of heaven.*
It was time for dinner, and everyone who'd been lingering had gone home. But her family was busy preparing for the guest and did not pay attention to what was happening outside.
Satisfied that no one had seen Sergeant Thornton hand her something, Eloise coughed and pretended nothing had happened.
"Uh, hmm... thanks for bringing it."
"It's not worth mentioning. I would be extremely upset to think that such *obscenity* was lying around in the house where I live."
His tone—which was filled with genuine disgust—sent a wave of indignation through Eloise.
She admitted she had drawn something not proper for a well-bred lady to draw.
If he despised her for this, she had nothing to say in response.
But *why* did this man act as if *he* himself had been insulted?
Judging by his demeanor, one would have thought he *was* Lieutenant Colonel Ryan Wilgrave.
At that moment, he spoke:
"Mr. Severton is a fine gentleman."
Eloise looked up in surprise at the sudden praise. He continued, ignoring her reaction.
"From our very first meeting, I realized I would greatly need his assistance during my stay at Blissbury. So I decided I should maintain good relations with his family. Even with Mr. Severton's daughter, who harbors an unhealthy, voyeuristic interest in the opposite sex."
*—!*
Eloise stared at him, but he—without changing his expression—calmly held her gaze and continued:
"Therefore, I propose we assume that what happened in Blissbury did not happen, Miss Severton."
He said this in a tone as if he were doing her a great favor, and turned around.
It was as if he thought there was nothing more to discuss with Eloise.
But Eloise, clutching the drawing hidden under her shawl, couldn't utter a word.
---
And at that moment, Eloise was certain.
**Until this man leaves Blissbury, they will never have a good relationship.**