Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 26

26. Ingrintian Rhetoric

Just as mathematics has a concept of “statistics,” statistics also has a concept called “statistical traps.”

Grace Gurton’s mistake was falling into not one, but four such traps. The titles of these traps were: too small a sample size, single-instance observation, incorrect causal inference, and unintentional bias.

First, basing statistics on a sample size of one—Richard Spencer—was nonsensical. Statistics, by definition, require a group as their subject, making the very claim of having conducted statistics in this case absurd.

Furthermore, Grace had conducted her “statistics” during a single moment in the carriage. A study reliant on a single point in time cannot hold any validity.

Incorrect causal inference was another significant error. For example, the unintentional remark “You, Miss Gurton?” stirred her sensitive emotions so deeply that she awarded him 10 points in the “sensitivity” category. Such an outcome defied logical reasoning.

Lastly, her calculations were fundamentally rooted in unintentional bias. Or perhaps it was deliberate bias. Her overwhelming admiration for Richard Spencer had led to a catastrophic statistical misjudgment.

While Grace floundered in the pit she had dug herself—no, the traps she had fallen into—the esteemed Young Earl of the Spencer family, known for protecting the king while standing by his side, showed no such vulnerability. Instead, he was elegantly enjoying tea in the drawing room of the Bath villa.

The Bath villa bore a similar atmosphere to the Spencer estate in Lydon. In terms of interior decoration, the Spencer family’s aesthetic sensibility was nothing short of disastrous. They insisted on decor reminiscent of solemn and majestic funeral marches.

Nobles often adorned their estates or villas with expensive artwork to flaunt their wealth and power. The Spencer family’s estate, villa, and manor houses were also brimming with artwork. However, what set them apart was the fact that a large portion of this artwork consisted of hundreds—even thousands—of portraits of their ancestors.

Like stamps haphazardly plastered on envelopes, these portraits, devoid of aesthetic conscience, adorned the walls. This was why Richard Spencer thought the Spencer family’s properties resembled columbariums lined with memorial photographs.

Richard Spencer, his twin brother Lancelot Spencer, and their younger sister Freya Spencer sipped tea while bearing the scrutiny of hundreds of ancestral gazes from the walls. Seated beside Freya was Eleanor d’Estrée, Richard’s betrothed.

“Was your journey comfortable?”

At Richard’s question, Eleanor gave a pale smile.

Eleanor d’Estrée had a noble appearance with her slender frame, gaunt cheeks, deep-set eyes, and prominent cheekbones. Her long, oil-treated golden hair was neatly styled, adorned with intricately crafted ornaments that radiated wealth.

Gallian women generally wore heavy makeup. It was fashionable to spread finely ground plaster powder across their faces, creating a stark contrast with their necks. Some even used lead to whiten their skin further.

To Richard’s eyes, her pale face seemed to float like a ghostly head above the natural skin tone of her neck. Seeing such a peculiar sight made him think he’d have preferred spending eight hours in the carriage with Grace Gurton instead.

Nevertheless, he fulfilled his duties as a nobleman and an earnest fiancé by complimenting her on her modern makeup. Eleanor, a trendsetting Gallian woman, responded with a hand over her chest, bowing gracefully like an opera singer receiving a standing ovation.

“It was a pleasant journey,” Eleanor replied with a smile.

“You must have studied Ingrintian extensively,” Richard praised her in a generous tone.

While Lancelot and Freya, both Ingrintians, immediately detected the subtle malice in his words, Eleanor, being Gallian, failed to notice.

“Yes, I’ve worked hard at it.”

Ingrintians viewed Gallians as vulgar beings who consumed frogs and lived licentiously. They even referred to syphilis as “Gallian pox.”

On the other hand, Gallians disparaged Ingrintians as deceitful and insidious. Their assessment was surprisingly accurate. Eleanor, the lone Gallian frog in the room, failed to grasp the subtle barbs of Ingrintian rhetoric laced with the sweet aroma of tea.

“But this is so tasteless.”

Eleanor said, biting into a scone on the table before spitting it into her handkerchief. Frogs, it seemed, lacked not only tact but also the ability to read the room.

“Eleanor, should I have them bring something else?” Freya asked in her sharp voice.

Freya was deeply impressed by the advanced culture Eleanor had brought from Gallia. Though Ingrint was a wealthy nation, Gallia was the cultural leader of the continent.

Food, fashion, art, music, and even sexually transmitted diseases—Gallia’s unique culture spread across the continent. And while Ingrintians despised Gallians, they also deeply revered Gallian culture in their hearts.

The bustle-style dress Freya Spencer wore for tea time was a prime example. This dress, with its rich pleats of bright coral Gallian silk, complemented Freya’s glamorous appearance perfectly.

However, Eleanor d’Estrée, who had arrived in Lydon just days prior, delivered shocking news to Freya: the dress was already out of fashion in Gallia.

She explained that Gallian noblewomen now favored dresses with Watteau pleats that spread widely on either side. She also added that this year’s fashionable color was teal, reminiscent of her own eyes.

Freya Spencer, the goddess of beauty and everyone’s first love, would never disregard such precious advice. She always had to be prettier and more stylish than other noblewomen. Therefore, Freya immediately summoned a tailor to commission several new dresses.

Throughout this process, Eleanor offered even more advice. Freya Spencer was so captivated by the sophistication of the Gallian woman that she could hardly contain herself.

“No, thank you.”

Eleanor replied, handing the handkerchief-wrapped scone to a maid standing behind her. She had no intention of having more Ingrintian food brought out, which she knew would be just as tasteless.

“Next time, I’ll make sure it’s prepared in the Gallian style.”

Richard said, already picturing the shiny éclairs he would reluctantly have to eat tomorrow. True to their name, “lightning,” these Gallian desserts were so intensely sweet they practically sparkled on the surface.

While their name derived from their tendency to be devoured as quickly as lightning, Richard found them as unpleasant as lightning itself, exacerbating the ache in his left temple. He decidedly preferred cheap, dry Ingrintian scones over Gallian desserts.

“Richard, do you like them?”

“Of course.”

Richard Spencer, a master of Ingrintian rhetoric, answered his fiancée’s question succinctly. After all, éclairs, not scones, would be placed before him. There was no reason to waste energy arguing.

“And Lancelot?”

Eleanor turned her gaze to Lancelot Spencer, who had been silently fiddling with his teacup. At last, he spoke, “I like them as well. They’re delicate, sweet, and soft. Perhaps they’re my favorite thing in the world.”

Lancelot said, his honey-colored eyes glinting mischievously. Eleanor couldn’t hide her childlike excitement at his words. It was one of the peculiar sights Richard often witnessed since Eleanor arrived in Ingrint.

To Richard, Lancelot and Eleanor seemed like soulmates. It had been the same when they were children and remained so now. Their exchange of trivial words without a hint of embarrassment reminded Richard of the ping-pong games currently popular among Ingrintian nobles.

When the conversation lulled, Freya quickly introduced a new topic.

“Richard, what do you think of the woman you brought with you?”

It was a question that intrigued all three at the table, excluding Richard himself. Throughout their carriage ride, even the Countess had joined the other three in speculating about Grace Gurton’s future.

“Well.”

Though Richard cherished Freya as much as he did Lady Montague, he wasn’t entirely honest with her. Affection didn’t obligate truth-telling. Thus, he avoided giving a direct answer.

At that moment, Eleanor d’Estrée hesitated before making a suggestion, “Tomorrow, I would like to invite her to a gathering.”