"Your tea, my lady."
The porcelain cup hovered near her lips, cradled in hands she knew too well.
I love you.
"Thank you, Agnes… it smells lovely," she murmured, inhaling the tea's floral sweetness. And yet, there was some other, curious, scent buried beneath that familiar flowery smell. A soft warmth began to unfurl in her chest.
I will miss you, my lady… terribly.
"It's lavender… and chamomile, isn't it?" Her voice slowed; each word slightly more distant than the last.
"Yes, my lady," Agnes replied, her tone tender. "It will help you sleep."
Please live on… and be strong.
Mary Jane—no, the countess—blinked, her lashes suddenly heavy. "Why don't you… join… me… Ag…nes?"
A wistful hush answered her, and then came that voice—beloved, aching—no longer spoken aloud, but bleeding into the silence.
Sleep, my lady… my truest friend. And when you wake, I shall be long gone. But you must walk on, even if your steps fall alone.
The teacup slipped from her fingers and clinked quietly against its saucer. The room wavered like mist, her limbs sinking into the mattress as if it meant to claim her completely. A thick haze swept over her thoughts. Why was her head so heavy?
Had she… taken anything else before bed?
No, she tried to reason. Just the tea...
Warm hands brushed her cheeks, lovingly wiping away tears she hadn't known were there. They were Agnes's hands—callused, broad, familiar. Comforting. Like all the nights they'd whispered secrets beneath her bedsheets as girls.
But… they changed.
Smaller. Softer.
No, her mind whispered. Agnes didn't have hands like this.
The dream began to unravel.
The voice, too, began to shift—no longer Agnes's melodic lull, but high-pitched, worried. A child's voice.
"Please… wake up."
Her brows knitted. "Agnes?"
"No," the voice insisted, urgent now. "Mother, please wake up."
Her heart jolted.
"Jason?"
Mary Jane's eyes fluttered open. Morning sunlight spilled across the chamber, golden and soft. Jason's face was above hers, his small brows furrowed as his cool little hands dabbed gently at her damp cheeks.
Had she been… crying?
Her chest rose and fell with quiet, shaky breaths.
In the space between dream and waking, feelings of love and betrayal still lingered like the scent of lavender clinging to her lips. Who was Agnes?
"Are you having another bad dream?"
"Ah...actually, I don't remember," she smiled sheepishly at the boy who was standing beside her bed. "Baby, did you want us to have breakfast together again?"
"Yes please!"
"Alright then!"
Both of them skipped downstairs in their slippers, hand in hand, and with just their robes on top of their bedclothes. She didn't even notice the boy's nanny waiting outside her bedroom who then followed them downstairs.
Whatever made the cold earl rescind his order and allow his son to go near her, she didn't really care. She just felt so happy that she could continue to hang out with this sweet boy. It was as if she just cleared a huge hurdle.
Instead of the dining hall, though, they went back to the kitchen because Jason wanted her to cook for him once more. She decided to dice some meat and vegetables, and decided to make an omelet with everything in it.
With Jason watching over her, and sometimes assisting her, she was able to ignore the surprised looks of the chef and the kitchen staff. Actually, they were more than surprised, they were shocked. They were a little less shocked to see the countess cooking since she had already invaded every part of the estate these past few weeks, giving out her weird suggestions which were all surprisingly effective. All of them were already quite used to her presence everywhere by now.
What shocked them was the presence of the young master beside her while the boy's nanny just watched without making a fuss. It was whispered by a few maids the day before, but now, it was right before their eyes.
The chef slowly sidled to the boy's nanny, who was standing beside the open doors of the kitchen, and whispered to her. "Has the earl really approved of this?"
"Hmp!" Was the nanny's only reply.
The aroma of garlic, onion, and other herbs permeated the kitchen as she started sautéing them in butter. She added carrots, diced ham and sausage which gave the kitchen a savory aroma. When she cracked the eggs to make the omelet and then added all the ingredients that she sauteed prior, she heard the chef make a quiet comment behind her.
"What manner of dish is that? Eggs, yes, but with—garlic? And onions? And—" The chef paused, sniffing the air. "Carrots, ham and sausage? 'Tis a most peculiar jumble in a skillet!"
"That looks tasty, mother." Jason spoke up. As if he was encouraging her to ignore the chef.
"Eggs are delicate, best cooked simply, lest they be ruined… Yet she has thrown in the whole larder!" The chef couldn't help but mutter to no one in particular.
"You're okay to eat all the ingredients I cooked together, right?" She confirmed with the boy, ignoring the chef once more.
"Yes…although, I'm not really fond carrots." The boy hesitantly admitted.
"Maybe, if you try my omelet, you might learn to love carrots."
"Hehe, let's see!"
This boy was so precious!
Once again, she and Jason sat by the kitchen table and there, they enjoyed their breakfast of soup which was already boiling on the cast-iron range when they arrived earlier, coupled with bread and her omelet. She taught Jason how to stuff the bread with some omelet, which the boy ate with gusto. And she was happy to see that the boy finished his meal.
After their breakfast filled with stories and laughter, Jason excused himself to get ready for the day. He promised he will seek her out again right after.
Humming happily, she went back to her room to find Jane already waiting there to help with her morning ablutions. Sarah must have asked to be relieved of her attendant duties once again. Honestly, Jane, who had a more helpful attitude, was enough for her.
She proceeded to take a bath and change for a day out with Jane's help. She had planned to go out again, with Jason this time, so she could start on her new project. A project she began planning right after her time in Jason's playroom yesterday.
Once she was done, she met with Jason on the foyer and they went out the doors together. His nanny and Jane were right behind them.
"Could I really join you on your outing today, mother?"
"Of course. I promised yesterday, didn't I?" She ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "I would be really happy if you could join me."
"Awesome!"
*****Shall awaken in time*****
Standing by the tall windows in his bedroom, the earl was fixing up his cravat. He had just arrived back home from Aurenport around an hour ago, took a bath, and now he was getting ready to go out on another set of business appointments. He was looking out the window with Steward Ferguson standing just a step behind him. Both of them looking down to witness the mini-drama of the countess hugging his son and helping him climb up the carriage. Once the carriage passed through the front gates, he turned to his steward who helped him wear his overcoat.
"My lord, is it truly wise to allow the Countess near Master Jason?"
"Nanny Jones has been given explicit instruction to never leave them alone. You have instructed the rest of the household staff to keep an eye on the Countess, correct?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good."
They were walking down the grand staircase when the steward decided to ask further. "Sir, may I ask why you decided to rescind your order to distance the young lord from the Countess?"
"This will be a great opportunity to finally unmask the Countess."
*****From time unbound, through realms unknown*****
The bell above the shop door chimed, signaling the arrival of those he had been expecting. Keeping his head bowed as if absorbed in the toy soldier he was pretending to inspect, Grand Duke Edward Matthew Chambers cast a discreet glance toward the entrance. There she was—the Countess—her hand clasped with that of a young boy, their conversation lively and full of warmth.
Lord Jason, the Earl's son, has been allowed near his stepmother? Interesting—he thought.
Trailing behind them were Jane, the Countess's agreeable attendant, and another maid. Beyond the threshold, a footman and two knights in Whitman livery stood at attention, their presence ensuring the pair's safety. It seemed that the countess listened to his education on escorts and chaperones. Satisfied with his quiet observations, he shifted his focus back to the wooden figure in his grasp, subtly turning his back to better catch the rhythm of his target's conversation.
Jason tugged at Lady Whitman's sleeve, pointing excitedly at a shelf of miniature tea sets, dolls, and carved wooden animals. "Look, mother! They have a whole menagerie!"
She smiled, scanning the rows of simple yet charming toys. "Now that's what I call 'vintage'… It's like stepping into a historical movie or drama."
Jason frowned. "Mu-vi…or…drama?"
Lady Whitman faltered, then laughed lightly. "Ah, just a figure of speech. It's all so cute and quaint."
Before their conversation could press further, he decided to interrupt them. "Ah, what a delightful coincidence! I did not expect to find such fine company in a humble toy shop. Lady Whitman, young Lord Jason—what a pleasant surprise." He bowed gallantly to both lady and lordling.
Upon recognizing the Grand Duke, Jason straightened instinctively, recalling the manners drilled into him since childhood. He released Lady Whitman's hand and gave a polite bow.
"Your Grace," he said with careful formality, though his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "It is a pleasure to see you here."
The countess, though, blinked at the sight of him, surprised. Schooling her expression, she dipped into a graceful curtsy. Ah, it seemed she had already been taught her a few things about courtly etiquette.
"Your Grace," she said smoothly, but then, unable to help herself, she added with a light lilt, "Fancy meeting you here. Didn't take you for a man who browses toy shops in his spare time."
The boy, then added, "Do you also like toys, your grace?"
"I am looking for some toys to gift a nephew of mine." He gave them his ready-made answer. "Are you buying toys for young master Jason, here?"
"If Jason likes anything here, I will definitely buy it," the madam smoothed the boy's hair lovingly.
"Truly?" The boy looked up with shining eyes at his mother.
As a nobleman's child, thought Edward, Jason probably already owned at least one of every type of toy in this shop, which is the biggest toy shop in the capital. It must be the thought of receiving a gift from the Countess that made him smile that happily.
"Truly, truly! Now, why don't we both go around this store and go on a toy hunting spree?"
"Splendid!"
Spree? The countess's choice of words is quite interesting indeed; Edward chuckled to himself.
Lady Whitman picked up a wooden horse with wheels as its hooves, running her fingers along its smooth surface. The craftsmanship was simple but sturdy, the paint specifically chosen for children's eyes. She turned it over in her hands, murmuring to herself, "A classic pull toy… but if it could move on its own, that'd be something. Like a remote-controlled car."
She set the horse down and moved on to a set of carved figurines, knights and ladies in stiff postures. She traced the details on their armor, frowning slightly. "Not much articulation… just for display, then? If only the parts are removable, like robots, assembling them could add more enjoyment."
Remote? Car? Robots? The grand duke mused. The countess was saying so many words he hadn't heard of before.
Jason, trailing beside her, held up a hoop-and-stick set. "This one is fun," he said. "We roll it down the path and chase it."
Lady Whitman smiled but tapped her chin thoughtfully. "It's simple, but I wonder… what if there were more challenge to it? Maybe obstacles or targets?"
A deep voice interrupted from behind. "An intriguing thought, my lady."
She turned, clearly startled to find the Grand Duke standing just a step away, holding a wooden soldier in his hand. His lips curled into an amused smile. "I confess, I couldn't help but overhear. It seems you have quite the keen eye for… improvement." He set the toy down with deliberate care. "Might I ask—are you merely indulging curiosity, or do you have grander ambitions?"
Lady Whitman met his gaze, realizing he had been listening for some time. She narrowed her eyes slightly but allowed a small smile. "That depends, Your Grace. Are you merely indulging idle conversation, or do you have grander ambitions?"
The Grand Duke chuckled, tapping a finger against the toy soldier's helmet. "Perhaps a bit of both."
Lady Whitman arched a brow, intrigued but wary. "Both?"
He turned the small wooden figure in his hands, as if weighing his words. "It is never a bad idea for a person to have ambitions in life. If one then decides to venture ahead in order to reach her ambition, then one should ensure that it be both clever and profitable. Nostalgia sells, but so does wonder. And I suspect, Countess, that you have a mind for both." He glanced at her sidelong. "With your heritage and apparent eye for innovation, I suspect you'll be able to make waves in this industry."
Lady Whitman hesitated only for a breath before giving a light shrug. "Just curiosity for me."
"Curiosity," he repeated, amused. "A dangerous thing in the wrong hands. But in yours?" He set the soldier down, leveling her with an easy smile. "A business waiting to happen."
Her lips parted slightly, but before she could speak, he continued, his voice light, yet purposeful. "If one were to, say, create toys unlike any seen before—perhaps toys that worked just as you said, ones that delighted beyond the usual carved wood and painted faces—it would require more than just imagination. One would need skilled hands, rare materials…" He tilted his head slightly, smiling encouragingly. "And, of course, an investor who appreciates innovation."
Lady Whitman folded her arms, eyeing him skeptically. "You certainly make it sound as if you know my plans better than I do."
The Grand Duke laughed, stepping away as if to give her space. "Oh, I wouldn't dare claim such a thing. But, should you ever decide to turn 'curiosity' into enterprise, I hope you'd consider a wealthy man, with considerable connections, and one who shares an interest in progress," he said, laying his palm on top of his chest. His gaze flickered briefly to Jason, who was admiring a row of carved animals. "After all, what greater investment is there than the joy of a child?"
He gave her a slight bow, all charm and patience, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for her answer.
*****A soul untethered, lost and alone*****
The scent of salt and damp wood clung to the air inside the warehouse near the docks as the Earl paced along the rows of crates, his fingers trailing over the rough edges of a shipping manifest. Bright sunlight washed through the windows, helping the flickering lanterns overhead in dispelling the shadows cast by the towering stacks of goods—barrels of spice, bales of fine cloth, and casks marked for transport inland. Yet, the numbers weren't adding up.
"Only this much?" The Earl's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. He glanced up at First Mate Crowley, who stood beside him, arms crossed. "I was expecting a fuller load."
Crowley cleared his throat, his expression neutral but careful. "Aye, my lord. Storms slowed us down. A few barrels went overboard; some goods were spoiled. The excise officers combed through the rest—claimed they had to be thorough."
The Earl let the silence stretch; his gaze sharp. "And? How much did their 'thoroughness' cost us?"
Crowley exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "More than last time. They hiked the duties again. We had to grease a few palms to keep everything moving, but we covered it. The records are in order." He tapped the manifest in the Earl's hand.
The Earl flicked his gaze down to the inked list—officially accounted for and taxed. And yet, the discrepancy remained. Goods lost at sea? Or conveniently misplaced before reaching the ledger? He made no accusations, not yet.
"Make sure the remainder reaches the market without delay," he said at last, handing the manifest back. "And next time, I expect a report before I have to ask."
"Aye, my lord," Crowley murmured, dipping his head.
The Earl turned, his gaze lingering for a moment on a particular set of barrels stacked at the far end of the warehouse—ones not visibly showing the marks that customs officers normally stamp on cargo.
For now, he let it be.
*****By fate's decree, by justice sworn*****
"Good evening, your highness," Grand duke Chambers executed his normal, perfect bow to his cousin. It was late afternoon and his cousin was still buried in mountains of paperwork. Although he was 3 years older, he still had great respect for his cousin. He knew, growing up with him, that the crown prince will be good for his country.
"Come cousin, sit." Crown Prince Alaric nodded to his trusted secretary who promptly left the prince's office. The prince then went over to sit on one of the chairs by the fireplace where he usually relaxes in between work. "You're late."
"Well, I trusted you received the message that I had my knights send you."
"Indeed," the crown prince loosened the cravat wrapped around his neck and unbuttoned his collar, crossing his legs and reclining more comfortably on his cushioned armchair. "Your report?"
The secretary returned with a tray of refreshments and the duke waited for him to finish setting those up on the coffee table, pouring the prepared tea on gold-encrusted china, placing the cups in front of them, and leaving them alone before answering.
"Well, so far, I have nothing to show that the Wolf is involved. We have promising leads on the others, although, the collected evidences are not enough. It is only a matter of time." He picked up his cup of tea and drank from it.
"And today?"
"Today was quite a delightful day," the duke placed his cup of tea down to grab a small piece of cookie. "The most delightful one I had in…well, ever."
"Really?" The prince casually asked while rolling his neck and shoulders to ease the tension of the day.
"Our Diamond seemed even more precious than before."
"That Diamond? Precious?" The crown prince raised an eyebrow at him. "Are we thinking of the same one?"
Duke Chambers nodded vehemently, smiling mischievously.
"Somehow, I doubt it," the prince picked up his cup of tea. "Do you have any good news at all?"
"The good news is, through our Diamond, I may be able to enter the Wolf's den. Now, we'll be able to gather even more information and evidence."
"Perfect." The crowned prince smiled above the rim of his teacup.