Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 98

98. A Seasoned Attendant

“Theresius Wilford was staring at Miss Gurton.”

At Sebastian’s words, Richard straightened his previously slouching posture rigidly. His dull green eyes instantly regained vitality—or rather, madness.

“Where? When?”

Ah, I knew this would happen.

Sebastian answered as he held out the prepared clothing to Richard Spencer, who had just stepped off the bed.

“Earlier, in front of the charity school. I heard the house provided for his mistress is near there. On his way back from spending the night in town, it seems he spotted Miss Gurton.”

“And then? What happened?”

“Nothing much. He just stared intensely for a while and quietly went on his way.”

“Did Grace Gurton see that bastard too?”

“No. Miss Gurton is a bit oblivious. I was nearby, and so was Wilford, but she didn’t notice at all.”

“Oblivious? In what way?!”

“……”

Again, here he goes, getting riled up over unnecessary things.

It’s true Grace Gurton is slow to notice things. Even when a four-horse carriage adorned with a bright red lion emblem roamed nearby, she didn’t catch on. That’s why Sebastian hadn’t bothered to follow her cautiously since yesterday.

Sebastian decided not to answer questions with obvious answers. That was an exhausting endeavor. It was already tiresome enough having spent four days camped outside Professor Charles Dodgson’s house since morning.

“Either way, it’s not like the two would have greeted each other warmly if they had met. Besides, the rumors about Theresius Wilford lately aren’t exactly favorable.”

“So?”

“Don’t you think… someone to guard her might be necessary?”

Well, not that anything significant is likely to happen in this small, insignificant place. But if someone else were put in charge, Sebastian, an intelligent individual, wouldn’t have to handle such petty tailing work any longer. That was the real reason he brought it up.

“Exactly!”

“…Pardon?”

“That’s precisely what I was about to instruct you to do.”

Richard Spencer brazenly crossed his arms and claimed. He was so shamelessly composed that Sebastian almost believed him.

Liar.

Sebastian refrained from voicing the accusation. If this meant he could finally be free from the embarrassing task of trailing after an outside woman—no, to be precise, a woman whom Young Earl Richard Spencer was dragged around by—it was worth letting go.

“Sebastian, go to Lydon tomorrow and pick out ten suitable men to bring here.”

“Ten? That many?”

Grace Gurton wasn’t even a Queen. Good grief, how excessive.

“Yes. And one more thing to make absolutely clear…”

“What now?”

“Handsome men are off the table. They’d draw too much attention and make guarding difficult.”

“What kind of…”

…Nonsense? Sebastian barely swallowed the words. He shuddered as he recalled obsessive, scheming, one-sidedly loving, pure-hearted, quirky male leads from the romance novels he enjoyed reading, along with terms like possessiveness and monopolistic desire.

“Let’s just call it the bare minimum setup for properly guarding Grace Gurton.”

More like the maximum setup for slyly staking your claim on her, Richard Spencer.

“Understood, Young Master.”

What’s there to understand? The stage for dissuading him had long passed. Sebastian nodded without further comment.

“Then I’ll leave tomorrow morning…”

“Leave immediately.”

“If I leave now, I won’t arrive at the Earl’s residence until tonight.”

“Exactly. By tonight, you should be in Lydon finding capable guards to rush back here. Even at the earliest, they’d only arrive by the dawn of the day after tomorrow. Grace Gurton would then be exposed to danger for two whole days.”

“You’re telling me to ensure they’re here by the day after tomorrow at dawn? When do I sleep?”

“Sebastian, you’re not the one driving the carriage, so why are you complaining?”

Sebastian was born into a wealthy commoner family and was a treasured darling, raised with care. He wouldn’t even glance at a blanket stuffed with duck feathers; he could only sleep on bedding stuffed with the soft underfeathers beneath a goose’s wings.

I was a competent person in my hometown too! It’s just that I’ve been overshadowed by a great noble family.

Sebastian, whose sleeping preferences were more demanding than a princess’s, was about to grumble in protest. Then Richard, with a solemn and dignified tone befitting the heir of the Spencer Earldom, slyly said:

“It would be even better if the schedule could be moved up. I have absolute faith in the skills of a seasoned attendant.”

A seasoned attendant.

The suggestive incantation caused Sebastian to sway in place, his thoughts twisting and turning. Like a hypnotized seasoned attendant, he abruptly stood up and staggered off to summon the coachman.

Watching Sebastian’s retreating figure, the scheming male lead curled the right corner of his mouth upwards. Then, massaging his sinewy shoulders bristling with tense muscles, he exited the bedroom.

***

What on earth is this sudden disaster?

Grace mumbled to herself. Her muttering was drowned out by the sound of clumps of soil collapsing, even failing to reach her own ears.

Among the meanings of “disaster” is not only an “unexpected lightning strike” but also an “unforeseen misfortune or calamity.” Currently, Grace Gurton was experiencing disaster in the most literal sense of the word.

There is a biblical account of a god, angered by humanity, unleashing a flood to sweep away a decayed world. The rain now pouring down seemed comparable to such a cataclysm. Lacking divine revelation and the ability to build an ark from fir trees, Grace could do nothing but blankly watch the surging torrent.

Late autumn weather was truly capricious. Although she had grown tired of Ingrint’s erratic climate, today’s downpour, as if the sky had been torn open, was a rare event.

Rain in Ingrint was usually suspicious. It would rarely pour freely but instead drizzle stealthily, soaking hair and clothes unnoticed. Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether it was rain or fog.

Perhaps because of this, Grace often thought the rain resembled the people of Ingrint. Shifty, uncertain, and damp in nature.

However, this time, it was as if the equatorial skies had been placed directly over Ingrint territory, drenching the world in a relentless shower. As a result, the water level of Cherry Hinton Brook rose dramatically. Even Grace, who had lived in Grentabridge for ten years, had never seen such a sight before.

The gentle murmuring stream had turned into a roaring waterfall in an instant. Water spilling over the embankment lashed at the bases of the cherry trees like a whip before breaking away. Fallen leaves were swept along, creating chaotic patterns in the current.

Caught off guard by the unexpected rain, Grace was at a loss. She had visited the Grentabridge parish’s charity school but, unable to shake off her rising disappointment, had wandered aimlessly until arriving at Cherry Hinton.

The stepping stones crossing the stream were buried underwater, leaving no trace. Since Cherry Hinton wasn’t a popular spot like the Grenta River, there were only a few large rocks serving as makeshift stepping stones. It seemed impossible to return home immediately.

She dashed under the tallest cherry tree nearby, but it was futile. The tree dumped water it had collected on its branches like bombs onto her.

What should I do?

The only place where she could take shelter from the rain was her secret spot. However, the small, round limestone cave was a little farther away.

If I had known, I wouldn’t have left the house at all. The undisguised contempt of the charity school priest, the sudden, drenching downpour—what an unlucky day. Indeed, the world outside the blanket is dangerous…

Already drenched, she contemplated waiting under the tree until the rain stopped. As she hesitated and crouched to sit on the muddy ground, a lightning bolt struck. The flash split the dark sky with jagged cracks. The web-like lightning streaks stretching in all directions were ominous, making Grace involuntarily open her mouth and glance upward.

They say being under a tree during a lightning storm is dangerous. Grace swallowed nervously as she recalled a newspaper article about a massive tree, so large that even an adult man couldn’t wrap his arms around it, shattered into fragments by a lightning strike.

A chill crept over her body. The cold wind blowing from the north mixed with the frigid rain, sapping her body heat. White steam rose from her damp shawl.

The sky split open once more. Grace rubbed her numb face and forced strength into her trembling legs. Without delay, she darted out from under the sagging, rain-soaked branches and ran.