Chapter 10
Annette R. Bonnel found a small article tucked into the corner of the folded back page of the Buchanan Times.
[Viscount Emmet J. Milton Suffers Mysterious Carriage Accident!]
‘…I need to move within two days to deal with Viscount Emmet J. Milton before the news of the audit is delivered. I didn’t want to go this far, but he dug his own grave…‘
‘…deal with Viscount Emmet J. Milton within two days… dug his own grave…‘
‘…deal with Milton… dug his grave…‘
Is this for real?
“What are you looking at that’s making that face?”
Benedict Bonnel craned his neck to peek at the newspaper page and tapped the table.
“You must have seen the real thing.”
“Huh?”
“Lionel Yorkshire. Isn’t he amazing?”
Startled by the name Lionel Yorkshire, she looked again and saw that above the article about Sir Emmet J. Milton, there was an editorial about Cheboteteu, and photographs of the Duke and Duchess of Yorkshire, and Lionel Yorkshire. Below, the story of what charitable donations and good deeds Lionel Yorkshire had performed last year was described at length.
“What’s amazing?”
“His face.”
His face certainly was.
Annette R. Bonnel suddenly asked.
“Have you seen him, too?”
“Last week at the Voyageur, I saw him coming and going with some woman.”
The Voyageur was a social salon reportedly first created by Sir Albert Choffard, who was the Minister of State 80 years ago. It began as a debate forum where upper-class people with wealth, status, education, and knowledge gathered to discuss international affairs and economics.
Although it had now devolved into a partisan gathering where some Lion Party members and Blue Platypus Party members met to share drinks and updates and build connections, it was still an object of aspiration. Prince Françoise, who noticed the Voyageur salon, was even said to have hosted a similar salon called Le Citron.
The Bonnells had not been recommended to the Voyageur, but last week, Benedict Bonnel had been lucky enough to meet a member of the Voyageur and accompany them to a single meeting.
“How was it?”
“Predictable people, and predictable Lenore natives showing off until they run out of breath.”
Benedict Bonnel harbored a somewhat different kind of subtle contempt for Lenore natives than Annette R. Bonnel, but she filtered his words appropriately. Just that accomplished people were boasting about their accomplishments.
“Was Yorkshire there, too?”
“No, there are many cliques even within the Voyageur. I was with Berge Riederolf. Since a lot of insider stories and rumors that aren’t in the newspaper circulate, members are generally cautious, even among those in the same group.”
After saying that, Benedict Bonnel sent her a suspicious look and said nonchalantly.
“But why are you so interested in associating with Yorkshire?”
“Are there stories about Yorkshire?”
“So, why are you curious about that?”
Annette R. Bonnel completely ignored Benedict Bonnel’s counter-question.
“Answer first.”
“Yorkshire is a noble among nobles. They have extraordinary influence even within the Lion Party, and they are one of the few families who frequently attend royal gatherings.”
“Have you become an idiot who wants praise for information everyone already knows?”
“You, in turn, need to specify what information you want if you have a request?”
“What their true nature is, how malicious they are, who died to conceal their crimes… or what their weaknesses are, or what they’ve been up to recently…”
Benedict Bonnel, who had been silent for a long time, straightened his posture and asked with genuine curiosity.
“Is it something you can’t clean up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t react when I tease you about Baron Cobain, and after attending the Duke of Yorkshire’s party, which I told you repeatedly not to go to, if you’re asking questions like that, isn’t it reasonable to assume you’ve caused some kind of incident and are worried about the aftermath?”
Benedict Bonnel offered his opinion flatly. Indeed, Annette R. Bonnel was talking nonsense, which was unlike her today, and Benedict Bonnel knew from experience that Annette R. Bonnel’s sudden pronouncements were usually not random and often led to unsavory consequences.
Annette R. Bonnel instinctively denied it.
“It’s not a problem.”
At least, it wasn’t the kind of problem that was troubling the family yet, so it wasn’t a lie.
Benedict Bonnel’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he locked eyes with Annette R. Bonnel in a probing manner. But that was very brief.
“Right, it’s not the kind of problem that would cause trouble for our family.”
Benedict Bonnel had ‘correctly interpreted’ her words. As expected of her twin, he was similarly clever. Annette R. Bonnel briefly considered confiding in Benedict Bonnel but decided against it. Her certainty that Benedict Bonnel wouldn’t come up with a solution she couldn’t find herself was strong. Benedict Bonnel was, unfortunately, her twin, and the thoughts of twins often intersect in unwanted ways.
Leaning back in his chair, Benedict Bonnel fluttered his palm and said.
“Fine. If it has nothing to do with family matters, I don’t want to get involved. Unless you beg for my help.”
“That will never happen, even if you are reborn.”
Benedict Bonnel seemed unconvinced but didn’t seem inclined to nag any further.
“What specifically do you want to know?”
“I want to know stories about Lionel Yorkshire other than what is commonly known. You hear things here and there, don’t you?”
A wry smile spread across Benedict Bonnel’s lips.
“You’re not seriously getting all fluttery after seeing him, are you?”
“Are you still caught up in unsophisticated romantic fantasies? Is it a problem with your ethics that you don’t know how insulting such a comment is to an engaged person?”
Annette R. Bonnel’s genuine, twisted sarcasm cleanly eliminated Benedict Bonnel’s hypothesis.
“Right, you always preferred prototypes to finished products. Why are you curious about his reputation?”
“I won’t tell you, but an incident happened, and it made me think about what kind of person he is. Frankly, I don’t think he’s as good a person as he appears.”
“Because such a person doesn’t exist in the world?”
Annette R. Bonnel, who swallowed the urge to say, ‘No, because I actually saw it,’ agreed.
“Exactly.”
Benedict Bonnel crossed his arms, looking interested, pondering her words, and then neatly conceded.
“Having such a perfect person is indeed unrealistic.”
“Exactly. Haven’t you heard anything?”
“I told you. A person that perfect is unrealistic.”
Benedict Bonnel’s words momentarily displeased Annette R. Bonnel. But she soon understood. Benedict Bonnel was conveying that ‘there wasn’t a single bad word’ about him.
“That’s unbelievable.”
“I think it’s unbelievable, too.”
“Is it because people are careful about what they say about the Yorkshire family?”
“…Come to think of it, I have heard stories about the Duke of Yorkshire being intimidating or inflexible, or the Duchess being somewhat strict. I also heard various things about the sister, the Marquise Ouvreau, since she’s the de facto decision-maker for the Moro Company. But about Lionel Yorkshire, there’s an excessively good reputation. …Now that I think about it, it is really strange.”
As Benedict Bonnel spoke, his expression became increasingly intrigued.
Benedict Bonnel generally picked up far more information than she did. His role was networking precisely because he was good at it. Yet, even Benedict Bonnel was reacting this way. It was clear this was no ordinary cover-up.
“Anyway, since our relationship with the Du Jardin side is still ambiguous, don’t stir up the Yorkshires unnecessarily. We are in a situation where we need to keep a low profile and wait for our moment.”
Benedict Bonnel, with his riding helmet tucked under his arm, stood up. Although it was frustrating, his words were right again, and Annette R. Bonnel’s stomach twisted once more.
