Chapter 3
They chatted about their childhood adventures and the years they'd spent missing each other, like the rest of us weren't even there.
I was like a shadow, quietly eating from my own plate, completely ignored.
The food was beautifully prepared, but it all tasted bland to me.
Suddenly, a crisp snap echoed through the room.
Jessamine dropped and shattered an ivory porcelain plate, Theron's absolute favorite.
Her face drained of color, her eyes brimming with tears as she scrambled to her feet, looking completely lost.
"Theron, I'm so sorry. I... I didn't mean to. I just got back, and my hands are still shaky," she stammered, her voice trembling.
If any servant had broken it, they'd be in serious trouble.
But Theron immediately sprang to his feet, worry etched across his face as he checked Jessamine's hands for any sign of injury.
"It's just a plate; it can be replaced. Did you hurt your hand?" His voice was gentle, overflowing with concern.
He spoke to her with nothing but comfort, not a hint of reproach.
I set down my fork, watching the scene before me.
Any lingering warmth in my heart was extinguished completely.
So it wasn't that he was cold by nature, I realized.
His tenderness simply never belonged to me.
That was the moment I felt my heart go completely numb.
*****
The next morning, just after dawn, Jessamine showed up at my courtyard.
She swept in with a whole entourage of maids trailing behind her, making it look like she already owned the place.
"Ginevra, I'm new here and not familiar with the estate's affairs yet.
"I thought I'd come to you for some advice," Jessamine said, her smile soft and her posture all humility, as if she were genuinely here to learn.
She played the part perfectly, gentle, modest, every bit the picture of a sincere student.
I was pruning an orchid in the courtyard, and when I heard her, I didn't even bother to look up.
"What do you want to ask, Ms. Ashford?" I said, my tone flat.
"Of course, it's about running the household," she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Theron already promised me, I'll be taking care of everything around here from now on," she added, triumph in her tone.
I set down my pruning shears and dusted off my hands.
"Alright," I said.
I turned and went inside, grabbing the several large boxes of ledgers I'd already prepared, along with all the keys to the storeroom.
"These are the Blackwood Manor's accounts for the past three years. Every dollar in and out is accounted for," I said.
"And here are the keys to the storeroom. There's a full inventory list for everything inside, nothing's missing," I continued.
"Ms. Ashford, you can have someone inspect it whenever you like. If anything's off, the blame's on me," I added.
The way I handed everything over, so clean and straightforward, actually left Jessamine stunned for a moment.
She probably thought I'd make a scene, refuse to let go, and cling desperately to the reins of the household.
But she was disappointed. I didn't react at all.
For me, all this was always just a responsibility, never a source of power.
Now that someone else was taking over, I welcomed it.
Jessamine quickly regained her composure, took the ledgers, and started flipping through them, page by page.
She moved slowly, examining every detail, clearly hoping to catch me in some mistake.
After a long while, she finally pointed to a page, her brows knitting together.
"Ginevra, why were the purchases last month so much higher than usual? Isn't that a bit irregular?" she asked.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for every servant in the room to hear.
Her words were laced with implication, suggesting I'd been skimming off the top.
Before I could say a word, Mr. Hawthorne, who had been standing behind me, couldn't hold back any longer.
"Ms. Ashford, you might not know the full story," he said, stepping forward with a respectful bow.
"Last month, when the weather turned cold, Her Highness, out of kindness for us servants, personally ordered a batch of fine cotton fabric and had winter clothes made for everyone.
"She covered the cost herself; none of the Mansion's funds were used," he explained.
Hearing that, Jessamine's face stiffened.
Just then, Theron walked in.
He must have overheard the conversation, because his face was clouded with displeasure.
"Mr. Hawthorne, who gave you permission to speak here?" Theron snapped, his voice icy.
Mr. Hawthorne's face turned crimson as he bowed his head and stepped back.
Jessamine instantly adopted a look of wounded innocence and moved to Theron's side.
"Theron, please don't blame Mr. Hawthorne. It's all my fault.
"I just took over, and I'm not familiar with everything yet, so I misunderstood Ginevra," she said, her voice trembling with apology.
She spoke of misunderstanding, but managed to deftly redirect Theron's attention from the ledgers to her own supposed distress.
As expected, Theron let the matter of the ledgers drop, giving me only a cool, indifferent glance.
"If you're handing things over, make sure it's done properly," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
After that, the whole group headed to the storeroom.
Jessamine wandered around the storeroom, finally stopping in front of a box.
She opened it and suddenly let out a startled cry.
"Oh no! Theron, the pearl hairpin your mother left you, is missing!" Jessamine cried, her voice trembling with panic.
Her eyes flicked over to me, full of barely concealed suspicion.
Theron's expression turned stormy in an instant.
That pearl hairpin was his mother's most precious keepsake.
He valued it above his own life.