Lord Preston's Secret Governess

Chapter 12: Prove It With Results, Not Effort

The boy tiptoed towards the cicada, careful not to scare it away. Jacqueline, suppressing a smile, spoke in a dramatic whisper.
“Good. No one in sight yet. They’re all too busy with the ball preparations to notice us. Lucky us.”
Just then, Benjamin suddenly held out his hand. “Miss Somerset, look at this.”

His unusually excited voice drew Jacqueline’s attention.
“Hmm? What is… Aaaaaaah!”
Something hideous filled her vision. She screamed instinctively, her legs giving way beneath her as she collapsed onto the ground.

Benjamin’s eyes widened in surprise. He moved his hand closer to her face, his expression bewildered. “It’s not a cicada, Miss. It’s a shell.”
“Aaaaaaah!” Jacqueline’s scream echoed through Preston Manor, silencing the bustling activity. It was as if time itself had stopped. A strange and unsettling sight.

* * *
 
“Benjamin Preston.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Benjamin hung his head, his gaze fixed on the floor, his expression utterly dejected.
His lower lip trembled, as if he was fighting back tears. Or perhaps it was a look of indignation.
The future Marquess of Preston mustn’t cry. He bit his lip and took a shaky breath, his small hands clenching into fists.

Jacqueline, in contrast, held her chin high. She never lowered her head, no matter the circumstances. It was a principle ingrained in her as a lady.
Windsor, as usual, was stoic. His unreadable gaze suddenly hardened. “Tormenting a lady is not befitting the heir to the Preston family. Do you understand the gravity of your actions?”
“Lord Preston, it wasn’t like that…” Jacqueline began to explain, but Windsor’s disapproving glare silenced her.

“This doesn’t concern you, Miss Somerset. This is a Preston family matter.”
Jacqueline’s expression slowly faded. Windsor’s firm demeanor always reminded her of his military background. And of the nickname the pirates had given him.
She suddenly realized how considerate he had been towards her before. Now, the full force of his authority was bearing down on them, making it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t a figure of speech; the air in the room felt thin, suffocating. She took several deep breaths.

Benjamin, his lips trembling, forced out an apology. “I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Your apology should be directed at Miss Somerset, not me.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Somerset.”
“No, I…” Jacqueline waved her hand dismissively, but Windsor cut her off, his voice sharp.

“Remember that you are the future Marquess of Preston.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“You’re dismissed. Go to your room and reflect on your actions until dinner. Miss Somerset, please remain.”

“Yes, Lord Preston.”
Jacqueline swallowed nervously. It was her turn now.
Benjamin trudged towards the door, then paused and looked back at her. A flicker of intense emotion crossed his usually placid features.

“…” Jacqueline’s eyes widened. It wasn’t resentment she saw in his eyes, but worry. Benjamin was still kind, and she found herself drawn to this sweet boy.
She forced a cheerful smile, twisting her face into a comical expression for his benefit, hoping to reassure him. But Benjamin didn’t smile back.
Click. The door closed, and a heavy silence descended upon the study, the kind that often settled between them.

Mrs. Ritz entered with a tray of tea, placed it on the table, and quickly left, as if eager to escape the tense atmosphere.
Jacqueline took a deep breath and stared at the teacups.
“You may have some tea if you’re thirsty, Miss Somerset.”

“Thank you, Lord Preston.” She wasn’t thirsty, but she reached for the teapot anyway. It was better to do something than to sit in suffocating silence.
She expertly prepared the tea, pouring it carefully to avoid making any noise. After a moment of hesitation, she filled Windsor’s cup as well. He ignored the tea and stared intently at her.
It seems my gesture of goodwill went unnoticed. Slightly disappointed, she took a sip of her tea.

As soon as she set her cup down, Windsor spoke, making her flinch. I should have kept holding it.
“I was under the impression that we were in agreement regarding Benjamin’s education. Was I mistaken?” His tone was calm, yet the question carried an undeniable weight, a subtle pressure.
He wasn’t a man swayed by strong emotions or prone to outbursts. That made his words all the more impactful.

Jacqueline slowly stirred sugar and milk into her tea, as if buying time to answer the difficult question. “I don’t believe you were mistaken.”
“Then explain why Benjamin was holding a cicada shell. The Benjamin I know would never do such a thing. At least, not before you arrived.”
“I can explain, Lord Preston.” She took a sip of her tea, the sweetness bolstering her courage.

She set the cup down, the quiet clink breaking the silence. She met Windsor’s gaze, her expression calm and composed, but her mind raced.
Why did I scream? If I had just held it together, I wouldn’t have been caught. I need to work on my courage, Jacqueline Somerset.
Taking a deep breath, she spoke, her voice steady. “It wasn’t Benjamin’s fault, Lord Preston. I gave him permission to touch it.”

“Was that also part of a practical lesson? What subject does handling cicada shells fall under?”
“Well… if I had to categorize it, I suppose it would be natural science? Or biology?”
“Miss Somerset.” Windsor’s voice dropped a notch. Jacqueline knew this was her moment to be bold.

“Do you know what Benjamin enjoys, Lord Preston?”
Windsor’s brow furrowed at the unexpected question. He met her challenging gaze. After a long moment, he spoke. “Is that relevant?”
“Yes, it’s very relevant.” Jacqueline nodded emphatically, forcing her chin up.

“As I mentioned before, Benjamin loves ships. He’s read every article about the Black Fleet’s exploits. And insects, too. His eyes light up when he talks about them, as if…”
“Regardless of Benjamin’s interests, he is the future Marquess of Preston.” Windsor cut her off, his voice firm. But Jacqueline shook her head. She wasn’t backing down this time.
“Even kings have their passions. It enriches their lives, makes their world more vibrant. It was the same for me.” Her voice grew stronger, fueled by her conviction.

“I’ve always loved art. That led me to learn about the artists, their lives, and eventually, the history of art in the kingdom. It broadened my perspective, allowed me to appreciate art on a deeper level. A life filled with passions is a richer, more vibrant life. I want Benjamin’s world to be filled with color, not just black and white.”
“Very well. Let’s assume an interest in art can be beneficial for a nobleman. But how does an interest in insects benefit the future Marquess of Preston?”
Marquess of Preston, Marquess of Preston! It’s all he ever talks about! Jacqueline’s eye twitched. She might as well be talking to a wall. The conversation kept circling back to the same point. Her voice sharpened with frustration.

“Does everything have to have a practical benefit?”
“The world Benjamin will inherit isn’t as forgiving as you seem to believe, Miss Somerset. Swindlers will try to exploit him with flattery, and others will envy his position, hoping for his downfall.”
“…”

“Do you think an interest in cicada shells or ships will protect him then? No. It will be the knowledge, refinement, and social skills he acquires as the future Marquess of Preston.”
Jacqueline fell silent. Windsor’s calm words had pulled her back to reality from her idealistic musings. He wasn’t wrong. She was naive, and he was pragmatic. Many would likely agree with him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to fully concede, especially when she thought of Benjamin, so accustomed to suppressing his childlike impulses.

She opened her mouth to speak, then bit her lip, realizing it was futile. Windsor wasn’t receptive to her arguments, and her words would fall on deaf ears.
“I’ll ensure this doesn’t happen again.” Or at least, that I don’t get caught again. Her previously haughty expression turned contrite.
Windsor, watching her, nodded. “I’ll give you one last chance. Don’t disappoint me again, Miss Somerset.”

“I’ll try my best, Lord Preston.”
“Prove it with results, not effort. You’re dismissed.”