Chapter 7
****
"So what you're saying is that I should have left Marcus alone, let him bully and harass someone who didn't do anything wrong?"
"I don't know if he's at fault or not."
The voice wasn't sarcastic or condescending, but it was soft and strangely touching, and it stirred Edwin.
"......I'm disappointed, Theodore."
The young men looked at each other in surprise.
It was definitely Theodore. Not Teddy.
Calling him by his real name, not a nickname, meant that Edwin was really displeased with him.
"A lot of things have been said about you, but if nothing else, I trusted your judgment...."
The other man didn't respond. He just stared at Edwin with a blank stare, like he was listening to the weather.
Edwin raised an eyebrow, then looked around at the men at the table.
"You don't happen to be on the same page as Theodore, do you? That we should let Marcus take it out on someone who's done nothing wrong?"
The young men were at a loss for words.
"I think that no matter how close we are, we should correct each other for wrongdoing. Marcus, anyone."
Edwin's face grew serious as he continued.
“Servants have character, too. They have a high moral obligation. We must show generosity, acceptance, and tolerance to those below us. We are not to treat anyone, even the lowly maidservant, lightly."
"That's strange."
Theodore's languid voice interrupted again.
"Why does it sound so right, like a Sunday sermon, but to my ears it sounds like an excuse?"
"...Excuse?"
His sea-blue eyes flared.
"An excuse for what?"
Instead of answering, Theodore lazily draped his arms across the empty backrest and began twirling his glass.
"Answer me, Theodore."
Edwin's urging didn't get Theodore to speak immediately.
He took a sip of the amber liquid, as if he were deliberately stalling. Setting the glass down, he languidly took a drag from the cigarette between his fingers.
When the smoke had filled his lungs and then completely dispersed in the air, he spoke slowly.
"An excuse for yourself, I suppose? To protect the maid from Marcus Drayton."
Edwin's mouth opened a little in surprise, then closed.
Theodore smirked at his friend, then flicked out his cigarette.
There was silence.
The young men watching, none of them interrupted, were secretly excited by the tense atmosphere.
Theodore Macmillan and Edwin Hastings.
In social circles, they were known as silent rivals. While the two men appeared to maintain a cordial friendship on the surface, they constantly clashed over the smallest of details.
With so many similarities in age, hobbies, and interests, it was inevitable that they would be labeled rivals, whether they wanted to be or not.
But recently, Macmillan and Hastings had announced their sudden engagement, and Theodore and Edwin were suddenly polite brother-in-laws.
The spark that had seemed to exist between them had dwindled, and with it, a noticeable lack of excitement.
It was no wonder, then, that the young men's faces lit up with anticipation.
"Yes, you're right, Teddy."
Edwin spoke again after a long pause. Just as the onlookers were disappointed to hear him declare defeat so easily.
"I quite like her."
His comment made everyone's eyes widen.
Edwin continued, his eyes calm and collected.
"It's only natural to take a liking to a good, honest worker."
The onlookers turned their heads again with a look of 'oh’.
"I intend to continue to be good to her. It is the duty of men like us to care for and protect those of our family, and I don't need or want to make excuses."
Edwin lifted his glass to Theodore, looking at him.
"Well, good luck with that."
Theodore's reply was as calm and carefree as Edwin's, and the drinks passed into their respective mouths.
It was a bizarre conclusion, a reconciliation or a provocation.
The onlookers were both disappointed and confused.
"In that sense......."
Edwin drained his glass clean, slammed his cards on the table, and rose to his feet.
"I'd better get back to Marcus, I'm afraid he's going to lose his temper again and take it out on that girl."
He walked to the door. Theodore glanced at his friend, then turned back to his cards.
The door slammed shut.
There was a moment of awkwardness at the table.
"No, what is everyone doing? We didn't come here to hear Reverend Edwin preach, did we?"
Andrea, a longtime Theodore’s minion, chimed in with a chuckle.
"Now let's play."
Theodore, who had been staring expressionlessly into space, straightened up from his stiff lean.
He tossed the handful of chips in front of him into the center of the table.
"Race. Fifty, then another hundred."
The chips piled up.
After another round, another round, it was Theodore's turn again.
The poker table was heating up as Theodore frantically tossed chips around. The twins even threw down their pool cues and ran over to watch.
Suddenly, Theodore threw his cards down on the table. It was a clear sign of abandonment.
"Huh? What?"
Andrea stared at Theodore in surprise. The others followed suit.
Without answering, Theodore flicked the chips in front of him with his fingertips, sending them crashing to the ground.
Everyone looked up at Theodore again, stunned.
Theodore was unperturbed and raised his hand to the servant. The servant understood immediately and summoned an attendant.
The attendant, Nordstrom, held in his hand a jacket and a gentleman's stick.
"What is it?"
"Are you really going to go ......?"
Theodore held up his hands instead of answering. The attendant unfolded the jacket behind him and he deftly threaded his arms through it.
"It's ......Theodore!"
It was no use calling out; the long, sleek form of the well-dressed man disappeared out the door in a flash.
"Ah, that asshole...."
Rob clicked his tongue.
"He always calls when he's frantic...."
They turned their attention to the pile of chips Theodore had left behind.
"Dude, take a look."
Rob quickly flipped over the hand he'd tossed. Their eyes widened.
"That's ......flush!"
"Really?"
The room erupted in a collective gasp.
"That crazy......."
"He's a funny guy, beating everyone."
***
Theodore hurried out of the mansion.
As he descended the broad staircase and reached the roundabout surrounding the fountain, a carriage approached as if waiting for him.
"Master."
The coachman opened the door. His long body bent slightly as he stepped inside.
Nordstrom, his attendant, followed, bowing low. But just as he was about to climb into the carriage, he almost smashed his nose into the broad back.
"...!"
Nostrom jerked his head up.
His master had stopped and was staring off into space. Nostrom's gaze followed suit. It was toward the outbuildings beyond the main house.
For a moment, a crack appeared in the hard, cold lines of his smooth face. Something was very much not to his liking.
"Master .........?"
Theodore climbed into the carriage. He handed Nordstrom the stick and sat cross-legged in a padded chair.
The carriage pulled away.
Theodore looked out the window and tapped on the hard wood of the window frame.
He did this for a while, and then his brow furrowed slightly again. His hand had reached up and was tugging loosely at his tie.
Nostrom, who had followed him since childhood, recognized it at a glance.
His master was irritated again. What the hell was going on?
***
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