Lord Preston's Secret Governess

Chapter 11: Why Don’t You Try Catching It?

 
Mrs. Ritz’s face hardened. Like a cat whose territory had been encroached upon, she bristled with suspicion.
It wasn’t uncommon for governesses from noble families to attempt to seize control of the household. They were, after all, aristocrats, while the housekeeper was merely a commoner. This often led to a subtle power struggle, a quiet tug-of-war for authority played out in countless mansions.

Mrs. Ritz narrowed her eyes. She had only been housekeeper for two years. She couldn’t afford to be undermined by a governess, not so soon.
What would Mrs. Norwood have done? Mrs. Norwood, the previous housekeeper, had served the Preston family for decades, retiring the year Jeffrey Preston died. Mrs. Ritz had been chosen as her successor. “There’s no one more suited for the job than you, Ritz,” Mrs. Norwood had said, but she still doubted her own abilities.
She didn’t feel confident she could live up to Mrs. Norwood’s legacy. Sometimes, the responsibility of being housekeeper felt overwhelming. But she couldn’t show any weakness. It was a burden she had to bear.

She wanted to be as efficient and respected as Mrs. Norwood, a housekeeper the staff could rely on. She couldn’t afford to lose face in front of the servants, not to Jacqueline.
Steeling her resolve, she pressed her lips together. Jacqueline, after a moment of surprise, seemed to read her thoughts. She spoke in a friendly tone.
“Lady Bernstein is allergic to chrysanthemums.”

“!”
“A few years ago, she attended a ball hosted by Lord Hanson and fainted after inhaling the pollen from the chrysanthemums decorating the hall. Since then, it’s become an unspoken rule to avoid chrysanthemums at any event she attends. I noticed Lord and Lady Bernstein are on the guest list. It’s best to err on the side of caution with cornflowers as well, since they’re also part of the chrysanthemum family.”
“…Is that so?” Mrs. Ritz asked quietly, as if she had never heard of such a thing. Embarrassed by her overreaction, she lowered her gaze.

Jacqueline had no desire to engage in a power struggle. Her life was complicated enough without making enemies of the staff.
“I heard she hasn’t been well and has been staying at her estate. It seems she’s returned to the capital. It will be good to see her again.” With that, Jacqueline turned and continued up the stairs.
Mrs. Ritz watched her go in silence. The thought of Lady Bernstein fainting at the Preston ball, especially due to her negligence, filled her with dread. She clenched her fists. She was as hard on herself as she was on others. She might even resign if she couldn’t bear the shame.

“…Thank you for the advice, Miss Jacqueline.” She bowed her head slightly.
Jacqueline stopped and turned around, looking down at Mrs. Ritz.
Miss Jacqueline, not Miss Somerset. The subtle shift in address was significant. The distance between them had narrowed.

Jacqueline smiled. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Ritz. You can call me Jackie.” She waved the spectacles in her hand and continued up the stairs.
She suddenly recalled William’s comment about Lord Preston’s dislike of parties. It was a well-known fact. There were other rumors as well: that he never danced with women at balls, that he avoided social gatherings. They all pointed to his aloof and arrogant nature.
In a way, he was one of the most talked-about figures in high society. His striking appearance, unusual background, and haughty demeanor made him a magnet for attention, whether he wanted it or not.
“He didn’t seem that arrogant to me.” Jacqueline tilted her head, puzzled. The Windsor she knew was aloof and reserved, but not arrogant or rude. He was rational and composed.

There must be some misunderstanding. She knocked on the study door.
“It’s Somerset, Lord Preston.”
“Enter.”

She stepped into the study, its atmosphere as austere as ever. Windsor looked at her expectantly.
She walked straight to the desk and placed the spectacles on it. “You left these in the drawing-room. I thought you might need them for your work.”
Windsor raised an eyebrow, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “You could have sent a maid.”

“I was already on my way upstairs.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Miss Somerset.”
“You’re welcome.” She was actually surprised he had forgotten his spectacles. A man as meticulous as him seemed unlikely to misplace anything.

Even Lord Preston has his moments of forgetfulness. A soft smile touched her lips. Then, noticing the stack of papers on his desk, she shook her head. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
She left the study and headed straight for Benjamin’s room. After a light knock, she opened the door and asked cheerfully, “Would you like to go for a walk, Benjamin?”
Benjamin looked up from his book, his gaze wary. He seemed to recall the scoldings he had received from his uncle whenever she was around.

His legs, dangling from the chair, swung slowly back and forth as he considered her offer. Jacqueline’s voice turned as sweet as chocolate.
“It’s a beautiful day. The air is fresh. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. And afterwards, we can have some lemonade.”
A faint blush colored the boy’s cheeks. Despite his love of reading, he was still a child who enjoyed playing outdoors.

But, more mature than his peers, he didn’t immediately accept. Jacqueline, feigning a boastful tone, added, “Did you know that many famous philosophers enjoyed taking walks? It’s not just about aimless wandering; it’s a time for introspection, a chance to contemplate life and reflect on oneself. A very important activity.”
Swayed by her persuasive words, Benjamin finally closed his book and stood up. Jacqueline, with a triumphant “You’re only six, no matter how mature you try to be” expression, turned and led the way.
A few moments later, they were walking side by side through the manicured gardens. The chirping of cicadas echoed from somewhere nearby. Jacqueline’s expression relaxed.

“It seems summer is truly on its way. The cicadas are already here.”
“Yes.” Benjamin wasn’t a talkative child. Perhaps silence was a Preston family trait, Jacqueline thought, recalling the equally taciturn Windsor.
It didn’t matter. She was talkative enough for both of them. It was a perfect balance.

She adjusted her pace to match his, strolling leisurely through the gardens, enjoying the lush greenery. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling their faces.
It was peaceful. The gentle breeze, the scent of damp earth, the warmth of the sun on the leaves… everything was serene.
Meeeeem. A cicada chirped loudly, but even that couldn’t break the tranquility.

Benjamin stopped, staring intently at a cicada clinging to a tree trunk. His brown eyes sparkled with a mischievous curiosity, reflecting the vibrant energy of spring.
Jacqueline knew what he was thinking. She had been six years old once.
Back then, everything had been a wonder, and the days had flown by without a care in the world. She hadn’t worried about the future, about what she should do or who she should become.

She had been a princess, a chef, a knight, and a lady, all in the span of a single day. A delicious cookie had brought her immense joy, and a warm hug from her parents had made her feel like she had everything she could ever want.
A smile touched her lips. She leaned closer to Benjamin and whispered, “Why don’t you try catching it?”
“Huh?” Benjamin looked at her, startled. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment at having his thoughts revealed and surprise at her suggestion.

His initial interest quickly gave way to his usual reserve. “The heir to the Preston family doesn’t catch cicadas with his hands, Miss Somerset.” It was as if their roles had been reversed, the student lecturing the teacher.
Jacqueline simply stared at him. Benjamin was only six, but his life was already filled with restrictions, and he accepted them as normal.
He’ll face even stricter rules at boarding school. She wanted him to feel free, at least here, at Preston Manor. This was his home.

For Jacqueline, home was a place to return to, a place she longed for. She hoped Preston Manor would be the same for Benjamin. A place filled with happy memories, a sanctuary he could always return to in times of trouble.
Narrowing her eyes, she whispered conspiratorially, like a devil tempting an innocent soul. “It’s alright. No one else is here. And I can keep a secret.” She mimed zipping her lips.
Benjamin looked confused. “But…”

“Even the heir to the Preston family is still only six years old. No one will scold you for doing what you want.”
“The future Marquess of Preston doesn’t catch cicadas.” Benjamin repeated his earlier statement, as if trying to resist temptation. But his voice was noticeably weaker.
Jacqueline’s voice grew even sweeter. “It’s not written anywhere that he can’t. When I was six, I used to chase ladybugs with the maids. I loved their shiny, red shells. And after the rain, I would jump in puddles.” She conveniently omitted the part about being scolded by her mother afterwards.

“…Really?”
“Of course. And I grew up to be a perfectly respectable young lady.” She also conveniently omitted the part about being known as the “Penniless Lady.”
“Are you sure no one will find out?” Benjamin glanced around nervously.

Jacqueline quickly turned and scanned their surroundings, her eyes wide with mock vigilance. “I’ll keep watch. You can catch as many as you like.”
Benjamin hesitated for a moment, then succumbed to temptation. It was too sweet a whisper for a six-year-old to resist.