’So she finished her homework, came out, and then waited under a streetlight by the school gate, reading for half an hour?’
He didn’t point it out.
"Don’t you live in the South District? That’s not on my way home."
"A small detour doesn’t matter. We have a car anyway." Grey turned sideways and pulled open the car door. "Get in. It’s not safe to walk back this late."
A middle-aged man in a uniform sat in the driver’s seat. His temples were completely white, and his hands rested steadily on the steering wheel.
"This is McLeod, my family’s driver," Grey said by way of introduction.
The man glanced at Richard in the rearview mirror but said nothing.
He had been the Grey family’s dedicated driver for twenty years, chauffeuring Grey ever since she was a baby.
’The young lady had never waited for anyone at the school gate before. This was a first. But part of being a good old servant was knowing that some things, once seen, were best treated as unseen.’
Richard got in the car.
Once the car door closed, the sound of the wind and the noise from the street were immediately shut out.
Inside were leather seats, walnut paneling, and a copper ashtray embedded in the armrest.
The leather seats were almost absurdly soft, and he sank half an inch into the cushion when he sat down.
’The interior of this car is probably more expensive than all the furniture in my living room combined.’
Grey sat beside him, only an arm’s length away.
The girl closed her book, her gaze falling on Richard.
These past few days, Richard Williams had been changing.
She remembered clearly what Richard had looked like a month ago.
That sickly boy’s gaze was always downcast, as meek as a roadside weed.
But now, the young man was so bright he was almost dazzling.
Grey knew Richard’s mother came from the Ashford Clan.
Unattractiveness was rare among the members of the Imperial Capital’s old, established families, and Margaret’s features were particularly fine—a trait clearly passed down to her son.
The line of his nose, the curve of his brow bone, the slight tapering of his jaw... he had good bone structure, but it had been hidden by his sickly appearance and thinness.
As his health improved, his good looks began to emerge.
Furthermore, a person’s entire face changes when they are confident and composed.
Now, Richard would stand out in a crowd as a handsome young man.
"What were you reading in the library?" the girl asked, deliberately starting a conversation.
"A bit of everything. Preparing for the Cicero Cup."
"Until seven?"
"I got engrossed and lost track of time."
Grey gave him a thoughtful look.
"Richard, do you believe in that stuff?"
She had suddenly asked something unrelated.
"What stuff?"
"The day with the Divination Disc, you told us about the ideomotor effect, about oxygen levels in a sealed space... It was all scientific, rational, and perfectly explained."
The girl’s blue eyes looked directly at him.
"But you held that cloth pouch for too long."
Richard’s expression remained unchanged, waiting for her next words.
"Someone who purely believes in scientific explanations wouldn’t clutch an object of unknown origin in their hand for that long."
Silhouettes of row houses flashed by the car window, their chimneys rising like black vertical lines against the night sky.
"I don’t know what you were doing."
Grey realized she was being a bit aggressive and softened her tone.
"But the candle only went out after you were done. I remember that very clearly."
After a few seconds of silence, Richard spoke. "Grey, are you interested in this sort of thing?"
"I’ve been interested since I was a child." She said it as casually as if she were saying she’d liked strawberries since she was a child.
"There’s a whole wall of old books in my family’s study. Most of them were left by my maternal grandfather."
"When I was little, I’d flip through them and think the illustrations were beautiful. Only later did I understand what they depicted."
She stopped there.
Richard didn’t press her for more.
They both sensed a kindred spirit in each other, but neither of them spelled it out.
The car turned down two streets, and Grey had the driver stop at an intersection not far from Richard’s house.
"We’re here."
"Thanks for today, Grey." Richard pushed the car door open, and cold air rushed in.
"You’re welcome."
The girl hesitated for a moment, then took a paper-wrapped package from her pocket and handed it to him.
"These are scones I was planning to make for my Mother. Help me test the flavor."
Richard took it.
The package was still slightly warm, having been in the girl’s pocket until just now.
"They smell wonderful. I’ll be sure to savor them." He didn’t refuse.
"Good. See you tomorrow, then." Grey was visibly relieved.
The door closed, the sedan drove away under the streetlights, and its red taillights disappeared around the corner.
Richard stood under the streetlight, holding his schoolbag, and glanced down at the paper package in his hand.
The sweet aroma of scones seeped through the paper.
After sitting in the back of that car for ten minutes, he had confirmed one thing: the Grey family’s financial situation was on par with, if not better than, the Warrens’.
Warren was rich, but his money had the air of the nouveau riche. He’d order the most expensive steak, speak in the loudest voice, and make sure people saw him spending money.
Grey was different.
That car, that driver, that woolen coat with nearly invisible stitching... they were all high-quality things, but none of them were for show.
Old money.
The term popped into his head, fitting perfectly with the class structure of the industrial age.
The Warren Family made their fortune in coal mining, a history of only three generations. The Grey family had at least five generations of accumulated wealth; they were stable, low-key, and had a deep-rooted foundation.
In their little trio, Warren was the face of the group, Mason was just a follower, but Grey was the true core.
Richard put the package away and walked toward his house.
When he was just a few steps from home, he saw the light shining from the living room window.
Before he even reached the steps, the front door was pulled open from the inside.
Evelyn stood in the doorway, her arms crossed.
Her gaze went over Richard’s shoulder, landing on the road behind him.
Obviously, someone at the window had just witnessed the entire thing.
"Bro."
"Mm."
"You got out of a car."
"Mm-hm."
"A very expensive car."
"A classmate gave me a ride home."
Evelyn’s eyebrows furrowed, and her mouth opened and closed, then opened and closed again.
"What classmate? A guy or a girl?"
"A girl."
Richard’s answer was so direct that Evelyn’s composure completely crumbled.
"A... a girl classmate? A girl classmate with a car like that?"
"Her family’s driver gave me a ride."
"You... you know a girl whose family has a car like that?"
In the living room, their father’s head peeked out from behind his newspaper.
Their mother leaned out from the kitchen doorway, a dishcloth still in her hand.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing," Richard said as he walked inside. "I stayed late at the library today, and a classmate gave me a ride since it was on her way."
"That car that dropped you off..." Evelyn followed behind him, chattering nonstop.
"That was an Alves, bro! You can count the number of families in all of Brighton who have a car like that on two hands!"
"You can recognize car brands?"
"My classmate’s dad works at a dealership!"

Comments

Loading...