Ashford

The Ashford Family's mansion was larger and more imposing than the image Richard had pieced together from his memories.

The four-story stone building faced west, built from limestone commonly seen in the Imperial Capital.

The double doors were made of dark oak, and the Ashford Family crest was carved into the lintel: an oak tree and a rampant lion, identical to the one on the letterhead.

A doorman stood on each side of the entrance, staring straight ahead without moving, no different from two pillars dressed in clothes.

Three carriages were parked along one side of the courtyard, along with an old-fashioned automobile.

The automobile was even more impressive than the Alvis owned by the Gray Family. Its deep black body was traced with gold lines, its door handles were silver-plated, and its brass lamps gleamed brightly.

Richard swiftly committed the details of his surroundings to memory.

This was an upper-class family that maintained a respectable scale. They might not compare to the greatest houses tied to the royal family through marriage, but their accumulated resources and connections were certainly considerable.

After Father paid the fare, the driver flicked the reins, and the carriage clattered away down the gravel road.

The family of four stood before Ashford Mansion.

The instant she stepped onto the stairs, Mother's expression changed.

The change was subtle, but Richard caught all of it.

She shifted from the relaxed state she wore around her family into someone else.

It was a mask she had been taught to wear since childhood. Once she entered those doors, it had to be put on properly.

Father followed silently behind. His right hand came out of his pocket, then went back in, while his thumb rubbed against the seam of his trousers.

At the Factory in Briston, he was the respected engineer Rogers Williams.

Here, he was only "the man Margaret had married."

Evelyn stayed close to her brother and clutched the hem of his clothes. "I don't like it here."

"Neither do I."

The doormen pulled open the oak doors.

A butler dressed in formal black emerged from the side hall.

"Miss Margaret, the master is waiting in the drawing room." The butler stepped aside and made an inviting gesture.

The family of four walked through a long corridor, where portraits of generations of Ashford Family members hung on both sides.

The people in the paintings wore fashions from different eras, from old aristocrats in wigs and high heels to modern figures in suits carrying canes, lined up one generation after another.

An old man sat in the seat of honor directly across from the drawing room entrance.

He was thin. Even while seated, his spine resembled a carefully aligned plumb line, stretching straight from the crown of his head to his tailbone without the slightest bend.

"Margaret."

"Father." Mother gave a slight bow.

The old man looked her over. "You don't look well."

"The northern weather is colder. My old illness acted up again."

"Hm."

His attitude toward the family of four was distinctly different for each of them.

He showed some concern for his daughter Margaret, after all, they were directly related by blood, but that was all.

In his eyes, his son-in-law was little different from roadside weeds.

His gaze slid right past Rogers and settled on his granddaughter.

"Good afternoon, Grandfather." The little girl's voice was crisp, and her appearance was pleasing.

"Evelyn has grown quite a bit." The old man's expression softened somewhat.

Richard also gave a slight bow. "Grandfather."

Gerald said nothing, his gaze fixed on his grandson.

A mint master would place a new coin on his fingertips and flick it, listening to its ring and weighing it, judging how much copper and silver had been mixed into it.

When that gaze fell upon him, Richard's first feeling was that he was being weighed in exactly that way.

The Aether emanating from the old man was exceedingly restrained, gathered so cleanly that its edges were as neat as pages trimmed with a paper cutter.

Yet the instant that Aether lightly touched him, he felt as though he were standing directly beneath the spillway of a dam.

The warmth in his chest shuddered violently. An invisible hand seemed to seize both sides of his lungs at once, and his diaphragm spasmed uncontrollably.

But the pressure came quickly and vanished even faster, so fast that he did not even have time to make any defensive reaction.

The old man's gaze had already moved away from him. The whole exchange lasted less than two seconds.

Behind him, Father was quietly confirming the luggage arrangements with the butler.

Mother had turned to straighten the crooked bow on Evelyn's shoulder. No one noticed what he had experienced during those two seconds.

"Sit."

Gerald raised a hand toward the sofas.

After confirming the results of his test, there was an added measure of regard in his eyes.

The butler stood by the door and took it all in.

He had served at Ashford Mansion for thirty years. Reading his master's expressions came more naturally to him than reading books.

When the master saw someone as weeds, he treated that person like air. The proper courtesies would never be lacking, but there would not be a scrap of extra attentiveness.

When the master saw someone as a potted plant, he would smile, serve a cup of tea, and put on a proper show.

When the master looked at someone and lifted his body from the back of his chair...

The butler silently moved the name "Young Master Richard" from the bottom of his mental list to a fairly prominent position.

Evelyn noticed none of this. She only felt that everyone had been standing around for far too long.

Grandfather's drawing room was quite large, and there were plenty of sofas. Right now, she only wanted to find somewhere to take off her shoes.

Seeing his granddaughter's restless appearance, Gerald seemed to recall something.

He took out a rectangular gift box from beside him, bearing the logo of the renowned confectionery workshop, Valentine.

It was unclear when the box had been placed there. Perhaps it had been prepared from the beginning.

"Evelyn." The old man held out the box.

The girl had been studying her toes with her head lowered. When her name was suddenly called, she jolted.

"Ah? Oh, Grandfather." She looked up.

When she saw the box he was offering, her hand started to reach for it, then stopped.

Evelyn turned her head and glanced at Mother.

Margaret nodded.

"Thank you, Grandfather!" Evelyn accepted the gift box, her smile so sincere that it carried not a trace of impurity.

Thanks to the influence of the girls around her, she roughly knew the price of the chocolates in that box.

Valentine's boxed sets started at five shillings even for the cheapest ones.

This one had satin fabric and gilded clasps, so it could only cost more.

The old man nodded and instructed the butler beside him, "Arrange the guest rooms."

The butler gave a slight bow and turned to the family of four.

"Please follow me. Rest in your rooms for a while first. Dinner begins at six thirty."

As he turned to lead the way, his pace slowed by half a beat compared to when he had greeted them at the gate, and at corridor corners, he made noticeably deeper bows.

Even Evelyn noticed, though from a slightly different angle.

"Brother, he didn't seem to walk this slowly at the gate just now."

"Maybe his knees are bad," Richard replied casually.

"Then why did they suddenly get bad?"

"He's old. It probably comes and goes."

Evelyn was half-convinced, but she did not press further. Her attention had already been completely drawn to the box of chocolates in her arms.