Episode 25

The Rependers estate stood close to the coast. No wonder Abigail had said she’d just walk home when she was drunk that day—it really was that close.

Marcus, having consoled the still-gloomy Elouise several times over breakfast, suggested they take a slow stroll there. Juliet tagged along as well.

“Let’s stop for a quick snack on the way. Sweet plum jam will lift your spirits.”

As expected, Elouise’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fluffy pancake, dusted with powdered sugar and served with a side of jam. It was the most popular dish at the beachfront café, and when she took a bite, the shadows underneath her eyes seemed to lighten a little.

Juliet immediately reached out to grab a handful, but Elouise poked her side, making her flinch, then deftly slipped a fork into her hand. Marcus was impressed by the practiced move—and so was Juliet.

“It’s yummy…”

“Isn’t it? Julie, it’s delicious!”

Elouise giggled. Marcus watched the mother and daughter with a soft smile.

“My aunt’s cook is good with desserts, but all his recipes are too old-fashioned.”

“You sure do know what women like, don’t you?”

Elouise spooned a bit more jam onto her fork. The sweet-tart flavor had thoroughly captivated her. Marcus leaned on his hand and chuckled.

“Feeling better now?”

“No.”

She replied with a slight pout.

Marcus blinked. Elouise set her fork down, took a sip of tea, and looked straight at him.

“I still have questions. For example… why didn’t you recommend Abigail in the first place?”

“Oh dear.”

“You did promise to find the best mathematician, didn’t you?”

Right. He’d forgotten how sharp this woman was. Marcus smiled, squinting one eye. Elouise gave him a narrow look in return.

“Don’t bother with some clumsy excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse—I’m just trying to choose the right words.”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“I could use a cigarette.”

“You smoke?”

Elouise looked astonished.

“Sometimes. But since we share a room now, I haven’t. Did you know most gentlemen don’t smoke because they like it—they just want time to figure out what to say to women?”

The way she looked at him—chin tilted slightly, eyebrows raised—was one she often gave him. And it always lifted his spirits, like a mischievous boy.

Do I have a thing for women who glare at me?

He chuckled to himself at the thought. Elouise, still sulking, spoke again.

“If that’s true, then all those gentlemen are idiots. Women don’t care for flowery words—they like honesty.”

“Is that so?”

“So stop stalling and tell me.”

“They say it’s good for your health, El. Don’t you ever think about smoking?”

“Oh, come on!”

She smacked the back of his hand. He got the message—no more dodging.

Marcus leaned back, crossed his arms, and glanced at Juliet. The girl was happily swinging her legs and had just about shredded her pancake with her fork and knife.

She’s not paying attention—good.

Marcus finally answered.

“You like honesty?”

“Of course. Don’t state the obvious.”

“Alright. El, if I’d recommended Abigail from the start, you probably wouldn’t have liked it.”

The woman in the white-flowered silk hat blinked. Sunlight lit her neatly curled brown hair with a violet sheen. How pretty, Marcus thought. He waited for her answer.

“Why do you think that?”

“You’re wise and kind, but also very proper. You value appearances.”

Elouise narrowed her eyes slightly—perhaps she felt offended.

Hmm, I’ll need to find her another good dessert after this, Marcus thought, smiling gently.

“But I’m like that too,” he added. “Just a bit less proper than you.”

“Get to the point.”

“When you asked for the best mathematician, I didn’t think of Abigail. The most famous one in Cliff is known to be Albert Rependers. I called him garbage yesterday, but he did teach her. That makes him an intellectual, at least to some degree.”

“…"

“I only recalled later that Abigail likely wrote those books. But I didn’t think she’d be able to teach properly. As you saw—she spends most of her time gambling and drinking. You wouldn’t have accepted her.”

And if Marcus had suggested her as Juliet’s tutor, Elouise would’ve never agreed. He also admitted to a little selfishness.

“Plus, the fact that she’s close friends with the duchess bothered me. If she got close to you while teaching Juliet, then—like you said—what kind of woman would try to seduce her friend’s husband?”

“Ah.”

Elouise laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. Understanding dawned.

“So you picked someone that worked in your favor.”

“Rependers did match your request, after all.”

“And when she offered instead?”

Marcus tilted his head and gave her a crooked smile.

“Let’s say… it was on a whim?”

“…You changed Juliet’s tutor on a whim?”

“I just… wanted to. I didn’t expect Abigail to step up. And honestly—I’ve never seen her sober in Cliff before yesterday. I thought, maybe this could work.”

Elouise lowered her head slightly. The slightly reddish tourmaline on her ring caught the sunlight and sparkled. She had chosen well—it was a beautiful stone that changed color depending on the light. The man who gave her the ring, however, was far more fickle than the gem itself.

Marcus, now cutting into his pancake, added gently,

“If I hurt your feelings, I’m sorry.”

He really did have a warm smile. Even his apologies were devastatingly charming. Elouise didn’t know what kind of people his parents were, but she was sure they deserved a thank-you letter. If Marcus hadn’t been so ridiculously handsome, she might’ve yanked all his hair out by now.

Well—figuratively.

“It’s fine. We can’t change it now anyway. And thanks to all this, I realized Abigail is actually a pretty spectacular person. I mean—meeting Abigail Taylor!”

Her eyes sparkled with a dreamlike glow. Marcus cut off a bit of pancake, added some plum jam, and held it out to her. Absentmindedly, she took it and chewed slowly.

“…Would she be angry if I asked what university life was like? If she were older, I could ask like you would a grandmother. The old ladies back in Maine always opened up if I brought butter cookies.”

Any woman Elouise’s age who knew Abigail Taylor’s name had likely dreamed of meeting her once in their life. Elouise felt as though she were about to meet a famous actress—or someone even better.

Just then, Juliet looked at Marcus with a wide “Ahh,” her mouth open. She wanted a bite too.

Marcus added a dollop of plum jam, placed a tiny herb leaf on top, and fed her carefully.

Juliet looked delighted. So did Marcus.

---

The garden of the Rependers estate was modest.

Normally, maintaining a garden was considered one of a lady’s virtues, but Abigail appeared completely uninterested in doing so. Instead, she appeared much more interested in placing a table on the lawn to enjoy her drinks. When Elouise and Marcus visited, she was sipping fragrant apple cider right there in the garden.

It was surprising—she had been informed of their visit that morning, and yet she was drinking right up until the guests arrived. Still, Elouise kept her expression neutral.

Marcus was right. If he had suggested her as a tutor from the start, I probably would’ve asked if he was insane…

But when she reminded herself that this was Abigail Taylor, even the way she drank seemed dignified. Because of that, Elouise even gulped down half a glass of the cider Abigail poured for her. Marcus was so startled by her quick pace that he tried to take the glass from her hand.

After finishing her cider, Elouise apologized to Abigail. As expected, Abigail waved her hand gently with a warm smile.

“Don’t worry about iiiit.”

Was it her habit to draw out her words when tipsy? She sounded rather different than when sober. Lounging inside a gazebo set up in the garden, Abigail twirled her glass lazily and continued,

“No matter how much a teacher suits the parents, if they don’t get along with the student, it’s overrr. If I start lessons with Juliet and quit after a day, what then? If you really want to apologize, just bring me a bottle of apple cider next timeee.”

Was that… a joke? Elouise’s eyes darted side to side in confusion. That’s when she noticed Juliet. The girl sat nearby, lining up everyone’s teacups. She carefully arranged four cups, one for each of them. Then came the saucers.

The saucers were part of a delicate floral set, with gold filigree around the petal-like edges and wave-patterned rims. The cups matched with wavy rims of their own. Juliet, with her tiny hands, picked up two saucers, held them at an angle, then added another beside them. A perfect way to break expensive china in someone else’s home.

“Juliet, be carefu—”

“What are you building, dear?”

Abigail asked with wide eyes. Juliet’s gaze darted nervously as she mumbled,

“A gazebo…”

A gazebo? Made of saucers? Elouise couldn’t quite understand. But Abigail seemed curious and was content to simply observe.

All three adults—Abigail, Elouise, and Marcus—focused their eyes on Juliet. The girl kept working, knocking over the saucers a few times before finally succeeding. Elouise moved to stop her, but Abigail raised a finger and shook it side to side.

“Let’s watch. It’s alright if something breaks.”

“But…”

Elouise glanced back and forth nervously between Abigail and Juliet. After a while, Juliet finally pulled her hands away. The four saucers, which individually could never stand upright, now stood perfectly balanced—locked together by their wavy patterns.

Next, Juliet dumped out her teacup onto the garden floor. Splash—the sound echoed softly. Then, she carefully placed the cup upside down on top of the saucers. The wavy pattern of the cup fit seamlessly into the curves of the saucers, creating a striking balance.

Finally, Elouise understood what Juliet meant about building a gazebo. She had created a tiny structure using nothing but cups and saucers. Abigail beamed.

“Oh my, I’ve always thought those wave patterns looked like they’d fit perfectly—but I never imagined someone could actually build something with them! Juliet, you’re amazing!”

Juliet blushed. Abigail asked her a few more questions after that, and to Elouise’s surprise, the girl answered quickly. For someone as shy and unresponsive as Juliet, it was shocking.

Elouise turned to Abigail and asked carefully,

“Um… I hope it’s not rude to ask, but have you ever taught a child like Juliet before?”

“Oh no, you're not rude at all. And the answer is also no.”

So, she hadn’t taught anyone like Juliet before.

“Then how are you getting along with her so easily?”

Abigail smiled her usual warm, carefree smile.

“Someone once told me—it’s all about knowing the trick.”

---

Juliet, for once, had been sleeping soundly for an entire week. Abigail had worn her out completely with their lessons.

Abigail truly possessed an unusual teaching method. Even Elouise could barely keep Juliet focused for more than thirty minutes. But Abigail spent the entire day with her, playing and tutoring her as if she were walking a puppy.

At first, Madam Noskina had opposed Abigail even stepping foot in the manor. But recently, she had softened somewhat—Abigail’s healthy, rosy complexion was far preferable to the sight of her drunkenly stumbling around high society.

Elouise sat on the edge of Juliet’s bed, wearing a loose pink silk robe, feeling a little out of sorts. She had come to see Juliet in the evening, only to find her snoring softly, already fast asleep.

It was good that Juliet had found a teacher who suited her. But now Elouise barely got to see her.

She gently smoothed the girl’s messy hair. Her cheeks were red, likely from running around in the sun with Abigail.

Andrea, watching quietly, laid out several sheets of paper in front of Elouise. These were Juliet’s notes from her lessons with Abigail.

“She told me to make sure to show you… but I think she forgot and fell asleep.”

The papers were covered in equations. Some had crude drawings or scribbled notes, likely added by Abigail while teaching. Juliet’s handwriting was wobbly and uneven, but Abigail’s script was energetic and full of life.

Elouise held the pages up to the candlelight—and felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

At both of them.

She took the two most legible sheets and left the room. Pressing a few ten-shilling coins into Andrea’s hand for her work, Elouise began walking the hallway, looking down at the notes.

Even at a glance, she could tell Juliet had written them with excitement.

She must be so happy…

Abigail often shared stories from her university days during breaks in lessons. She didn’t dwell on the hardships. Instead, she talked about the good memories that shone through even during difficult times.

She was truly cheerful and radiant. It made sense—someone with that kind of spirit could survive in an all-male university.

Of course, her personality alone wouldn’t have been enough. Abigail had the support of a powerful, wealthy family, and she’d had the protection of Albert Rependers. Those first two had gotten her admitted; the last assisted her through graduation. She also had supportive parents behind her.

If I had grown up with that kind of background… maybe I could have gone to a city business school…

Elouise couldn’t help but compare.

She did consider herself fortunate. Always had.

She grew up in the Starwood estate and was raised as a well-educated governess through the patronage of women who respected that name. Compared to other daughters of fallen noble houses—many of whom ended in loveless marriages or worse—she was fortunate.

Still, the things she hadn’t been able to have made her melancholic at times like these. Seeing Juliet receive a good education only made her feel both relieved… and envious.

She opened the bedroom door and stepped into the couple’s room. Marcus, swirling a brandy glass idly, was reading a newspaper. He looked up and smiled.

“Let me guess. She was already asleep, and you didn’t get to speak to her?”

“How spot on. Pour me one too, please.”

Marcus blinked.

“This stuff’s pretty strong.”

“Can’t you water it down?”

“Of course. You can even add hot water. Shall I call Logan—?”

“No, it’s fine. Cold water is fine. I don’t want to bother Logan this late. He’s already suffered enough from you all day.”

“My, my, how merciful my wife is.”

Chuckling, Marcus poured the brandy and added cold water from a porcelain jug. As Elouise reached for the glass, he quickly picked up an orange slice from a small dish and dropped it in.

“It adds a nice fragrance. This brandy pairs well with citrus.”

“Thank you.”

Perhaps it was the orange, but the brandy went down more easily than she expected.

Elouise took a sip, sat on the bed, and fidgeted awkwardly. Her robe had slipped down one shoulder, but with one hand holding Juliet’s papers and the other her glass, she couldn’t fix it herself.

Marcus came over and gently fixed her robe. She smiled.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He returned to his seat while she resumed studying the papers. But her thoughts had wandered far from the math.

Juliet always gave Elouise mixed feelings.

When they first started living together, Elouise had spent a full year feeling like she was at war. Juliet only cared about what she liked, refused what she didn’t. Teaching her to sit and eat with proper utensils had been a battle in itself.

Elouise had only come to truly love Juliet after enduring all of that—and because of one name: Louise.

Back then, Elouise had often thought of what her sister Louise must’ve gone through. How had she managed Juliet?

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