~Chapter 1~
The New Caretaker
If you asked someone about Feltham, most people would say it’s a nice place to live.
It has fertile land, moderately cleared forests, plentiful hunting grounds, and a river that has flowed calmly for hundreds of years without ever flooding badly.
The village is lined with charming old houses that have been repaired and expanded little by little for generations.
When the sun sets, the warm light turns the rooftops golden.
Because of this, Feltham is the perfect place for noble lords from the distant, busy capital to come and enjoy a holiday.
It’s a village worthy of the love of polite and wealthy people.
At least, that’s what the residents of Feltham hope—that the high-ranking visitors will keep coming.
Since the war ended last year, the world has been changing quickly.
Railways now reach even remote villages, and people can travel further, faster.
Because of this, the nobles of the capital city, Newham, are now more interested in going on “Grand Tours,” where they can meet many kinds of people, instead of staying in boring countryside places.
The ferries crossing the channel are always full, and it’s said that a cart driver working in the port can now make more money than a rural landlord.
At that time, Eloise Surbiton was at home, working on her drawings.
“Miss, it’s time for your meal.”
In Feltham, no one wakes up late and has their first meal after noon like the nobles of the capital.
And especially not Eloise, the only daughter of Mr. Surbiton.
‘To protect the young lady’s health, she must live somewhere with clean air and keep a farmer’s lifestyle—rise early, eat early, and have three meals a day.’
That’s what the doctor said when he examined Eloise as a child.
Her mother, Grace Surbiton, cried as if her whole world had collapsed.
She had planned to take Eloise to Newham’s high society as soon as her health improved, but now the doctor was saying her daughter would have to stay in the countryside for life.
But Eloise herself secretly smiled under the blankets.
At last! She would never have to go to that dirty, smelly, crowded city of Newham!
Other girls her age might dream of the social life and glamorous streets of Newham, but Eloise hated such busyness—polluted air, crowded places, and the constant pressure to watch every word and gesture.
Compared to that, Feltham was so free!
Even though she came here to treat her mysterious illness, the moment twelve-year-old Eloise saw Feltham, she decided she would love it forever.
Now she was twenty-six, past the usual marriage age and listening to her mother’s sighs—but she still loved Feltham just as much.
“Miss!”
“I’m coming!”
Hearing her maid Emily’s voice getting louder, Eloise sighed and put down her charcoal pencil.
Recently, she had started drawing people instead of nature, but without a good model, her work wasn’t progressing well.
“Look at your hands! And take off that apron!”
“Emily, you’re only eighteen, but you nag more than my mother.”
“I’d say this even if I were only four. Go wash your hands!”
Emily’s manner toward the young lady of the house was blunt and even rude, but no one in the Surbiton family complained.
She was a hardworking maid, the best cook in Feltham, and fiercely loyal—quick to defend the family if anyone insulted them.
So Eloise could put up with her nagging—especially since arguing might mean getting a badly seasoned stew later, and that was something the Surbitons feared almost as much as missing Sunday church.
When Eloise came back with clean hands, the family’s goose in the yard honked loudly.
“Lancelot, that’s enough!”
The goose—named Lancelot after the famous knight—calmed down and folded its wings when it heard her voice.
“Clever boy.”
Eloise tossed him a handful of barley Emily had been drying, then greeted the postman holding a letter.
“Hello, William. Anything new in Camborne?”
Camborne was the nearest city to Feltham, large enough to have its own social circles.
Mrs. Surbiton had given up trying to bring Eloise into Newham’s high society, but she still insisted her daughter join elegant ladies’ gatherings.
‘Even if you live in a remote corner of Feltham, you are still a lady! Don’t forget that!’
Because of this, Eloise used to be taken to Camborne’s social events once a month.
But as soon as people started calling her an old maid, her mother lost interest—she couldn’t stand the idea of her daughter being gossiped about.
Now Eloise only went about once every season.
“It’s as noisy as ever. Now that most soldiers have been discharged, many have come home. The young ladies in Camborne can’t sleep at night. They faint whenever they see a red uniform. The mayor even ordered more benches in the streets!”
William shook his head. Eloise could picture the scene clearly.
The war with the neighboring country had lasted over ten years and ended just last year—with victory.
The soldiers received large compensation payments, and survivors got lifelong pensions in return for their service.
Honor, money, and, if they returned alive, a strong and healthy body—such men were rare catches in places like Camborne and Feltham.
For example, last month, the well-known Mr. Courtney had proudly announced his eldest daughter’s marriage to a soldier who had received the White Lion Medal. He even gave everyone a bottle of Highland whiskey.
Eloise had secretly tasted it and fallen in love with its flavor. Since then, she had hoped Courtney’s five other daughters would also marry soldiers—so he might hand out more whiskey.
Anyway, with so many eligible men wandering around, Camborne was sure to be lively.
“Here’s your mail.”
William handed her a heavy bundle of tied letters.
Even though Mr. Surbiton lived in Feltham for his daughter’s health, he had once been a well-known history professor in Newham.
Even in retirement, his reputation remained, so letters from other professors often arrived asking his advice.
Thinking it was the same as always, Eloise untied the bundle—but one pure white envelope fell out.
“Where’s that from?” William asked curiously, leaning closer.
Polite people wouldn’t ask about someone else’s mail, but Eloise and William valued curiosity more than manners.
“Let’s see… Rupert Derby… Baron Stanford?”
Eloise’s voice rose, and William’s eyes widened.
“Oh my.”
Just then, Mr. Surbiton appeared, either hearing her voice or Emily’s call to dinner.
He took the letter from Eloise’s hand.
“If it’s addressed to me, you should give it to me directly.”
“I was just about to. I only checked the sender in case it was dangerous.”
“Oh, I see—making sure it wasn’t from an enemy spy?”
He teased her about the time when she was eight and, after reading a spy novel, had soaked all his letters in water to make sure they weren’t poisoned.
“Let’s see…”
Curious himself, Mr. Surbiton used the letter opener to open it.
Inside was a sheet of paper as white as the envelope.
As he read, surprise spread across his face.
“Well, well.”
“What is it? What’s going on?”
William, still lingering, leaned in to listen.
“The Blissbury Manor is getting a new caretaker.”
