Chapter 4: To Remove the Shell
No sooner had she finished her greeting than Mrs. Beightle’s brow furrowed mercilessly. Not only did she not know proper greeting etiquette, but her manner of speech was so naive and unnatural. Indeed, there wasn’t a trace of nobility about her.
‘We have a long way to go.’
Mrs. Beightle’s shoulders jerked at the thought.
‘What am I thinking?’
The elderly woman quickly shook off the thought and rose from her seat. She had no desire to remain there any longer, needing no further observation. She bid farewell to Kaylon and swept out of the reception room.
“Don’t take it personally. The madam has a habit of playing hard to get at first.”
Kaylon added playfully.
“Oh, no… I’m fine.”
“Good. I appreciate your understanding.”
“…”
“You may go now. Isaac will inform you of the education schedule.”
“Yes…”
It felt like something had rushed in and out so quickly, leaving her dazed. Lyra responded in a half-stupefied state and bowed. Then, realizing there was still something she hadn’t mentioned, she stopped.
She returned to stand before Kaylon and bent deeply at the waist. Her half-tied hair cascaded down in waves.
“I’m… I’m so sorry, Your Grace.”
Kaylon’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected apology. He observed her small face, now even paler than before, before speaking.
“For what?”
“…”
“Have you wronged me somehow?”
He crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand at an angle. He looked somewhat displeased. Having gone to the trouble of persuading Mrs. Beightle to teach her, impressed by her willingness to learn, he wondered if she was now expressing reluctance.
Unable to see his increasingly displeased expression, Lyra bent even lower. Just as it seemed her forehead might touch the floor, her lips finally parted with difficulty.
“I… I lost… your precious books.”
“…”
“The books, I’ll… I’ll somehow…”
“How will you manage that?”
At that moment, the corner of Kaylon’s mouth turned up in amusement. His sharp gaze softened instantly.
So this was what had been troubling her. Though she’d seemed particularly emotionally unstable lately, he hadn’t imagined this was the reason. Thinking of the pile of books in his room, he asked again.
“What do you plan to do, Miss Norris?”
His deep voice resonated low. His tone had unconsciously become stern from trying to suppress his laughter. In response, Lyra sank to her knees on the floor.
“If you’ll allow me… I’ll earn money and replace them with the same books…”
Work for it? Did she not even have enough money for a single book?
“Ah…”
Kaylon let out a small sound. An overlooked issue had surfaced through Lyra’s words.
“I see.”
He had instructed that she be provided with everything necessary, thinking of it as a kind of contract payment or investment, and hadn’t paid much attention beyond that. But now he realized a lady would need various expenses covered.
Self-deprecatingly, he gestured to Isaac, who stood staring blankly. He instructed him to tell Mrs. Beightle to reassess Lyra’s necessary budget and provide a regular weekly allowance. After all, she was in his employment, one way or another.
Isaac acknowledged the order and left first. After watching Lyra trembling as she waited for permission, Kaylon finally rose from his seat.
“Mrs. Beightle will prepare new study materials. Don’t worry about the missing books.”
Lyra’s head lifted slightly. Her gaze trembled as she looked up at the man who had stopped before her.
“I threw them away.”
His expression, stripped of playfulness, was utterly impassive. He looked down at her face, now white as paper, before continuing on his way.
Moments later, behind his retreating back, the sound of intermittent, soft exhales of relief could be heard.
* * *
A week had passed since the arrangement for etiquette lessons, yet there had been no word from Mrs. Beightle.
Lyra had kept her afternoons entirely free, waiting for contact from the madam. But for some reason, her designated instructor remained conspicuously absent.
Occasionally their eyes would meet from afar while moving about the mansion, but Mrs. Beightle would simply turn away, offering no indication about the lessons.
Lyra grew increasingly anxious. Well aware of her own inadequacies as a student, she finally took the initiative to seek out Mrs. Beightle. Despite her shortcomings, she couldn’t simply wait indefinitely given the Duke’s instructions.
Nevertheless, Mrs. Beightle would routinely dismiss her, saying she needed time to think. This came with the pointed reminder that a lady neither pesters nor throws tantrums.
Lyra had no choice but to wait several more days. Then, three days later, Mrs. Beightle summoned her.
Waiting nervously in her room, Lyra headed to the lesson room with a mixture of fear and anticipation at finally being called.
As she quietly entered, Mrs. Beightle was giving instructions to the maids. Busy hands opened windows and removed white sheets covering the furniture.
Waiting briefly by the door, Lyra slowly surveyed the room. On one side stood an old piano with a music stand, another side offered a wide empty space, and yet another area held sofas and tables.
The room had been firmly closed until now, making its layout difficult to discern, but seeing it properly, it was larger than she’d expected.
While she was lost in observation, the maids quickly finished their work and filed out. Mrs. Beightle, who had been rifling through sheet music and books in various display cases, headed toward the sofa and spoke.
“Come here.”
Lyra awkwardly sat down across from Mrs. Beightle.
“Let me be clear—I have no intention of becoming your chaperone. For now… I am merely a temporary instructor at His Grace’s request, understand?”
“…Yes.”
After delivering this warning-like statement, Mrs. Beightle simply observed Lyra in silence.
Lyra felt suffocated. She’d thought she would finally receive proper education, but for some reason, the elderly woman remained quiet.
Just as fear began creeping in under that scrutinizing gaze, Mrs. Beightle let out an exasperated sigh.
Lyra involuntarily flinched.
“Today we’ll simply have a question-and-answer session. I’m trying to gauge your level, so answer truthfully without hiding anything.”
“…Yes.”
“Have you had any governesses or attended a ladies’ school?”
“N-no. I didn’t attend ladies’ school, and as for a governess… just a few days with my sister’s tutor…”
“Haa—”
Whether this confirmed her suspicions or not, another low sigh escaped, making Lyra’s shoulders instinctively hunch.
“But I can, can read and write…”
“To what extent?”
“A little… but the lady’s maid taught me well, so I can manage, fairy tales at least…”
“Wait.”
A sharp voice suddenly cut off Lyra’s words. Mrs. Beightle looked at her with an expression of disbelief.
“Are you saying you learned letters from a maid?”
Lyra had never felt ashamed of learning to read from Saya before. But Mrs. Beightle’s obvious displeasure made her feel as though she’d done something wrong. She hastily added an explanation.
“We couldn’t afford to-to hire a proper governess…”
Mrs. Beightle seemed uninterested in other families’ circumstances, whatever Lyra’s answer might be. She frowned and moved on to the next question.
“What did you learn from the governess?”
“…Basic arithmetic and piano… and a bit of em-embroidery. They said I needed to match my sister’s lessons…”
“Ah, that’s enough.”
Mrs. Beightle curtly cut off Lyra’s faltering attempts to explain. The level was so basic that questions seemed almost unnecessary, giving her a headache.
Not only was her fundamental education practically nonexistent, but she’d only learned to read a few days ago. She found herself doubting once again whether this woman truly was the daughter of a noble house.
‘How on earth did they raise their child, tsk.’
No, she seriously doubted whether they’d even treated her as their child at all.
‘Well.’
Even without Isaac’s information, her proficiency at cleaning clearly revealed what kind of treatment she’d received growing up. The elderly woman’s experienced eyes could see it plain as day.
Mrs. Beightle’s eyes narrowed slightly as she carefully observed Lyra. Though she’d finally yielded to Kaylon’s persistence and sat here, her dissatisfaction remained unchanged. She had no idea where to begin or how to teach anything—the task before her seemed overwhelming.
‘Having given permission, I can’t take it back now.’
She rubbed her suddenly tired eyelids with both hands and dismissed Lyra. She needed time to think first.
