Lord Preston's Secret Governess

Chapter 10: Benjamin Needs an Art Tutor

 
Windsor rose from his chair and looked down at her, his posture ramrod straight, his feet together, and his hands clasped behind his back, like a naval officer.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Somerset. I expect the same level of engagement in your other lessons.”
“Of course, Lord Preston.”
“However, even in a Norti lesson, I would prefer a wider range of topics. When Benjamin interacts with people from the Norti Kingdom in the future, discussions about economics are more likely to arise than conversations about warships. Focusing solely on ships for an entire hour seemed rather inefficient.”

“!” Jacqueline realized he had understood the entire lesson. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she smiled brightly, as if the earlier tension had never existed. “Certainly, Lord Preston.”
Windsor stared at her open, guileless smile, then turned to leave, as if the matter was settled. He hesitated, his gaze flickering towards the wall behind him. His brow furrowed.
“Benjamin needs an art tutor.”

Benjamin’s face fell at his uncle’s disapproval of his artistic skills. Jacqueline quickly came to his defense. “Compared to my painting, perhaps, but Benjamin is quite talented for his age.”
“You mean the pudding-like figures with eyes, noses, and mouths, and the five-legged dog? We need to find a qualified art instructor before he becomes a laughingstock at boarding school. I doubt the future Marquess of Preston will ever need to paint himself, but it’s best to be prepared.”
“Uh, well…” Jacqueline hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth. It’s not a dog, it’s a horse, and it’s not five legs, one is a tail, she wanted to say, but the words remained trapped in her throat.

Benjamin, who had been looking down, lifted his head and looked at the painting with a puzzled expression.
“I’m glad it was helpful, Lord Preston,” Jacqueline said with a strained smile.
Windsor left the room without another word. Jacqueline turned to Benjamin, her shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry, Benjamin. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Lord Preston that I painted it.”
“…It’s alright, Miss Somerset.” Benjamin nodded understandingly, his demeanor mature beyond his years. But Jacqueline couldn’t shake off her sense of failure.
Waving her hand dismissively, she mumbled, “I’ll see you later,” and left the room. She trudged down the hallway, her steps heavy and unladylike.

There had been many at the boarding school who hadn’t understood her artistic vision. Both her friends and teachers had laughed at her paintings.
She considered herself an unrecognized genius, a visionary artist born ahead of her time, her talent unappreciated. She had believed that the arrival of Fauvism signaled the beginning of her era. But it seemed she would have to wait a little longer for recognition.
Her dejected footsteps echoed softly behind her.

* * *
 

Clink. Betty placed a silver tray on the table. “Your tea, Miss.”
Jacqueline placed a tea strainer in a cup, added tea leaves, and poured hot water over them. The bitter aroma of tea filled the air.
“Thank you, Betty.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Somerset.” Betty replied in her usual stiff manner and left the room. Even alone, Jacqueline maintained her perfect posture.

She poured the tea into a floral teacup, closed her eyes, and inhaled the fragrance. She took a sip, the bitter liquid slowly warming her throat.
“Haah…” She finally exhaled, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.
“Oh?” She noticed two sheets of paper and a pair of spectacles on the sofa opposite her. She reached out and picked them up.

As she leisurely perused the papers while sipping her tea, William entered the drawing-room, his gaze searching.
“Where did I put it… Ah, Miss Somerset. There you are. Did the lesson go well?”
“Of course, William. Lord Preston was very pleased.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Are you looking for these?” She held up the papers.
William’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded, approaching her. With his pince-nez and silver mustache, he was the epitome of a butler.

“I must have left them here. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I suppose it’s time for me to retire. I wanted to see Master Benjamin become the marquess, but I suppose that’s just an old man’s wishful thinking.”
“I think you’ll be around for quite a while yet.”
William chuckled, as if genuinely hoping she was right.

“Is the manor hosting a ball? Is this a guest list?” Jacqueline asked casually, handing him the papers, which contained a list of names, each marked with either “attending” or “not attending.”
William nodded, his expression less than enthusiastic. “Yes. It’s for Master Benjamin’s birthday. We haven’t had a proper celebration in years, since we’ve been staying at the estate. As you know, the current marquess isn’t fond of parties.” His last words were barely audible, and he cleared his throat, as if regretting his candor.
He quickly regained his composure, his voice returning to its usual formality. “The ball is only two weeks away, and many haven’t RSVP’d yet. I’ll have to contact them again. Please excuse me, Miss Somerset.”

“Of course, William. Oh, and…” William stopped and turned back.
“Are these spectacles yours as well?”
“No, those belong to the marquess. Come to think of it, he was looking at the guest list just now. If you give them to me, I can…”

“No, I’ll take them to him. I’ve finished my tea. But…” Jacqueline held the spectacles up to her eyes, closing one eye and peering through the lens. William’s image was perfectly clear, without distortion.
“There’s no prescription.”
“Yes. The marquess has excellent eyesight. They’re purely for fashion.”

For fashion? Jacqueline raised an eyebrow, looking at the silver-rimmed spectacles.
“He’s already perfect. How much more fashionable can he get?”
“Hahaha.” William burst out laughing, as if she had told a particularly amusing joke. But Jacqueline was serious.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me.” William smiled and left the drawing-room.
“A ball…” Jacqueline stared out the window, lost in thought. It was a word she hadn’t heard in a long time.
Despite her family’s financial ruin, she was still the daughter of an earl, and she had attended numerous balls with her parents before being sent to boarding school. During the holidays, balls were often held at the Somerset estate in her honor.

On the day of a ball, she would choose her favorite dress, and the maids would fuss over her hair, ensuring she looked her best.
Of course, their best efforts didn’t always yield the desired results. They had once scorched her hair with a curling iron and another time applied far too much rouge, making her look like a clown.
But it had been fun. A smile touched her lips at the fond memory.

“A birthday ball for Benjamin… I wonder what I should get him.” She doubted a “Penniless Lady” could afford a gift suitable for a boy who had everything.
The warm afternoon sun caressed her cheek. She recalled the familiar family names on the guest list. Many of her classmates from boarding school and young ladies she had met at balls would be attending.
“Three years… I wonder how I should face them.” A sigh escaped her lips. She hadn’t seen any of them since leaving society.

Some had sent letters, but she hadn’t replied. She had been too preoccupied with her own struggles.
There was a distance between them now. They were still prominent young ladies, while she was a “Penniless Lady” who had to work for a living. She couldn’t afford servants or attend balls every night. A line had been drawn between them, an invisible yet distinct boundary.
“It will be awkward.” She rose from her chair, staring out the window. Worrying wouldn’t change anything.

“I should take the spectacles to Lord Preston and invite Benjamin for a walk. He’s probably holed up in his room reading again.”
As she crossed the hall towards the main staircase, several servants entered, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
She stepped aside to let them pass. Mrs. Ritz, noticing her, gave her a curt nod, then turned back to the servants.

“Place the flowers Max is carrying in the hall, and take the rest to the ballroom. I need to see how they’ll look arranged.” She was apparently previewing the floral arrangements for the ball. Mrs. Ritz’s meticulous nature was evident.
“You’re working hard,” Jacqueline commented politely, then continued up the stairs. The grand, spiraling staircase would make a dramatic entrance for the main guests.
She imagined Benjamin descending the red-carpeted stairs, his demeanor dignified. Then, she paused.

Her expression faltered, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. Her gaze settled on the flowers in Mrs. Ritz’s hands.
“The arrangements shouldn’t be too ostentatious. They should reflect the elegance of the Preston family.”
“Yes, Mrs. Ritz.” Several maids rushed forward, unwrapping the flowers and arranging them. Mrs. Ritz, noticing Jacqueline’s gaze, turned around.

Their eyes met. Mrs. Ritz raised an eyebrow, her expression questioning. “Is there something you need, Miss Somerset?” Her voice was sharp, reflecting her determination to ensure everything was perfect for the upcoming ball.
Jacqueline’s gaze shifted to the flowers scattered on the floor. Among the pink roses, she noticed blue cornflowers.
“Are you using those flowers for the hall arrangement?”

“Yes, I am.” Mrs. Ritz’s voice grew even sharper, a frown creasing her brow.
“Then I suggest you choose different flowers.”