Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 59

59. Bitter Tea

As soon as Theresius Wilford heard that Grace Gurton had arrived in Lydon, he sent a letter requesting a meeting. Thus, the two of them were now sitting knee-to-knee in the reception room of the Montague mansion in Chelsea.

Theresius had not informed Lady Montague about the fact that he had left Grace alone at the ball in the Assembly Room. It was more accurate to say he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to do so.

His hasty return to his family’s villa had been buried under the subsequent chain of events and had become entirely forgotten. If he hadn’t sent a letter, it might have been overlooked forever.

“I sincerely apologize for my rudeness last time.”

“I-it’s all right.” Grace shook her head.

“I heard that fortunately, Edmund Beaufort escorted you.”

As he spoke, Theresius subtly gripped the armrest of his chair. The memory of Edmund Beaufort smugly boasting about it still grated on his nerves.

Theresius was already aware that Lady Mary Montague had compared him and Edmund Beaufort in various ways. He had also heard that she had investigated their reputations, not only in Lydon’s social circles but also within Grentabridge. The chill that ran down his back upon hearing this was unforgettable.

Theresius dismissed the idea that Edmund Beaufort glancing at Grace Gurton could mean anything. Lady Montague must surely be aware of Edmund’s promiscuous escapades in Grentabridge. With that thought, he allowed himself a smug smile.

“Have you thought about the volunteer work I mentioned last time?”

“Ah, y-you mean at the poorhouse?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Theresius Wilford had a mission: to marry the Montagues’ adopted daughter and solidify his standing in central politics. This weighty task had been entrusted to him by his father, Jonathan Wilford, Baron of Cornwall.

Initially, when Theresius first approached Lady Montague and introduced himself along the banks of the Thames, he had felt a spark of rebellion toward his father for imposing such a responsibility.

However, after meeting Grace Gurton several times in Bath, Theresius’s perspective began to shift. Though he found her lowly status as Annabel Gurton’s daughter and her habit of stuttering utterly unsatisfactory, he also saw potential merits that could outweigh these flaws.

Specifically, he realized the opportunity to craft the image of “Theresius Wilford, the romantic and altruistic man,” by marrying Grace Gurton despite her shortcomings. The political and social elites, no matter how cutthroat, were still human. A noble heir who embraced a woman with a story to tell would gain substantial favor.

To achieve this, he needed to be seen spending as much time as possible with Grace Gurton in public settings.

“I-I think it’s a good idea. I-I’m not sure if I’ll be able to teach them well, though.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Miss Gurton.”

Theresius himself was skeptical about volunteering at the poorhouse. As the son of a landowner in Cornwall, he had lived his life without financial worries and looked down on the poor. His philosophy was simple: poverty stems from laziness. Why should one waste time and resources on people who refuse to help themselves?

However, at the tea party at the Spencers’ villa in Bath, Theresius had a change of heart. If Grace Gurton were to stand before the impoverished residents of the poorhouse and fulfill a modest role, his presence beside her would naturally amplify his own significance. It was a calculated move.

After all, wasn’t Grace Gurton herself a former resident of a poorhouse in Aire? By skillfully weaving together her past poverty and present flaws, Theresius could turn them into an advantage for himself while also leveraging the Montagues’ influence—killing two birds with one stone.

“D-do you think so?”

“Absolutely. The subjects for instruction will be Ingrint and basic mathematics. Only foundational topics will be covered.”

“F-foundational topics only? Why?”

“The residents of the poorhouse have no need for higher education. Teaching them to read the alphabet and understand basic numbers should suffice.”

“W-wouldn’t it be helpful to teach them writing or calculations as well…?”

“Miss Gurton.”

Theresius cut her off in a gentle tone. Then, with a kind smile, he refuted her suggestion.

“It wouldn’t be desirable for them to learn how to write or calculate.”

“P-padon?”

“Education is a form of charity extended to them. But what do you think happens when excessive compassion is shown?”

“……”

“Reading letters and numbers helps them with labor, and it fosters self-reliance. That much is beneficial.”

“……”

“But if they begin to write and calculate, they’ll start to think—and in subversive directions.”

“S-subversive?”

“Precisely. Humans are ungrateful beings. They forget the kindness shown to them and only nurture resentment. And then they’ll learn to write, do calculations, and eventually engage in rebellion. In the end, good deeds won’t yield good outcomes.”

“B-but…”

“That’s human nature, Miss Gurton. If such things happen repeatedly, it could lead to the collapse of the system.”

“……”

“Ignorant masses believe that overturning the system will transform the world into a paradise. But that’s a delusion.”

“I-is that so?”

“A reversed world will merely see the emergence of a new hierarchy. The Polska Revolution proved as much. Even in the transformed society, the weak remained weak. The only outcome of that revolution was the emergence of a new ruling class.”

“……”

“So, it’s best not to attempt to reshape the world. That’s the proper attitude for the leaders of society. Surely, you don’t wish for the collapse of Ingrint’s social order?”

Grace stared at Theresius intently before asking again, “B-but didn’t you say you were interested in welfare?”

Theresius smiled at her question. It seemed she remembered what he had said at the tea party.

“That’s correct. That’s why I suggested volunteering at the poorhouse.”

“B-but then why are you saying this?”

“Miss Gurton, I hope to prevent the underprivileged from falling further into despair through welfare.”

“……”

“Because when they are driven to extremes, they revolt.”

“……”

“If they are educated and become too enlightened, they’ll start a revolution. On the other hand, if they are left to starve without care, they’ll riot.”

“T-that’s too extreme…”

“That’s why we must carefully ensure they neither live too well nor too poorly while maintaining the greatness of Ingrint.”

Grace had nothing to say, biting her lower lip. Summoning her courage, she spoke again.

“I… I would like to teach them something like history.”

“History, you say?”

Theresius tilted his head as if puzzled.

“May I ask why?”

“T-the best prophet of the future is the past.”

“Ah, a quote from Lord Byron.”

At Grace’s response, Theresius crossed his legs and continued slowly, “It seems you’ve learned much from Professor Charles Dodgson.”

While Grace pondered whether his remark was sincere praise or veiled sarcasm, Theresius added more.

“You’re not wrong. However, most of history is written by the victors.”

“……”

“Perhaps a hundred or two hundred years from now, what will be called history will not be the records of those living in poorhouses, but rather the accounts left by people like us.”

Grace lowered her gaze and stared intently at the teacup in her hands.

In Aire, where Grace had lived as a child, there was a saying: “Life is like a cup of tea. The taste of both depends on how they are brewed.” There were countless types and qualities of tea leaves, but depending on the skill of the person brewing, even the finest leaves could yield a bitter taste, while lower-quality leaves could produce a fragrant aroma.

If Grace Gurton had remained in the poorhouse, she might have only learned the simple arithmetic her mother had taught her. However, Charles Dodgson had steeped her at the right temperature for the right amount of time, pouring her into a warmed teacup. Thus, Grace became a tea with a unique aroma.

“You’ll come to realize I’m right in time. While you were learning embroidery patterns, I had already begun studying at Grentabridge.”[1]

Even so, Grace had no desire to challenge Theresius Wilford’s logic. Repeating his words silently to herself, she swallowed her opinions like tea. Grace Gurton’s essence, which repeated others’ words, hadn’t fundamentally changed much.

Author’s Footnote:

[1] Partially modified quotation from Henry’s dialogue in Volume 1, Chapter 14 of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey