Chapter 21
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Dana woke up with a start, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, but her body strangely energized. Perhaps she had been cornered and lost her cool, or perhaps her fear had turned to rage. Dana's heart was pounding with a defiance she hadn't known she had, for she hadn't slept all night, lost in deepest thoughts.
The dawn had not yet broken, but the dusky air was crisp and cool. ...I'm going to learn to write,Dana told herself, and she walked briskly. 'Celeste is right,' she thought, 'the more you hold back all that's raging inside you, the more you'll be able to get what you want from your master.
She didn’t intend to take anything from Theodore MacMillan, but if she held onto the things that were bubbling up inside her, she may one day be able to repay him. Dana's newfound fighting spirit was aided in no small part by Celeste's reassurance last night.
'The Duchess would be aghast if she knew what happened today,' she said, something she had blurted out at the time, but which made more sense the more she thought about it.
According to Celeste, not everyone knew about Theodore Macmillan's atrocities. Even his mother, the Duchess, was surprised. Perhaps, Dana thought, she could use that to her advantage and escape the man's puppet master position. If he falsely accused her of stealing the ring, others might not be as easily fooled as he thought. Dana swallowed dryly and headed for the study.
If only I could gain Celeste's trust.
From what she had seen over the past few days, she's a pretty good person. She'd done her best to save Nicola, and she'd tried to console Dana herself. She wouldn't dare stand up to her master, but at least she wouldn't unconditionally side with him. Perhaps she could tell the Duchess about all of this.
'So just do what he asks, whether it's writing or blending....'
Now that she couldn't go to Belvida, Celeste was the only one she could trust. Steeling herself, Dana knocked on the door of the study. The knob turned and creaked, and the door swung open. Dana cleared her throat and prepared to sound cheerful. "Hello, Ms. Celeste," she said, but when the person turned to face her, all her resolve was completely undone. There was no Celeste. Instead, there was Theodore.
"......."
Theodore's green eyes, as unfeeling and cold as ever, bore into Dana's face. Dana's hair stood on end and her nerves were on edge. No way...
"Come in," he said, jerking his head to the side, and she stiffened, not daring to step inside.
"Ah, Ms. Celeste......" Desperate eyes darted around for Celeste, clinging to one last hope.
"How many people do you think laugh inwardly every time Belle Celeste pronounce with an R?" The man’s voice continued, neither high nor low. "I'll teach you myself," he said, walking over to the window and leaning in at an angle.
"Memorize the phonetic symbols first." Cold pupils flicked to the paper on the table. "From the top left."
Theodore began to read aloud, but Dana was too afraid to pick up the textbook. At first it sounded like a swarm of bees buzzing. ...ee, ee, uh, ah, ah... But as the shock wore off and the 'spirit' returned, the man's voice became clearer and clearer: ...p, v, t, k...
Theodore didn't stop reading. There was no consideration for the novice. "Back chapter." Dana flipped to the page with a gasp. The first line caught her eye, and she realized where he was talking about:
'...le, le, hhh...' She read along frantically, trying to remember the words. But he was too fast, and nervous Dana found it hard to concentrate. ...Shh, rat, drunk. When he finally got to the last sign, Dana's back was damp with sweat.
"Memorize it. I'll check in an hour."
Theodore tossed the textbook aside and turned his attention back to the window, which was just beginning to turn a brilliant shade of purple. Brilliant sunlight broke through the clouds and fell gently on the man's face. It was the same as last night. He was still cold, still nonchalant, still unpleasant.
Dana stared blankly at Theodore's side profile for a brief moment, then lowered her eyes back to the textbook. Except for one or two, of course, she couldn't remember them. It was impossible to memorize dozens of phonetic symbols in one sitting. What would she look like if she asked him to read it again? Probably an angry, cold look that said, "Why should I read it again for something like you?”
Dana squeezed her eyes shut. She had to do this on her own. Somehow. She stepped carefully to the end of the long couch and ran her hand over the first symbol. A line curved like a scythe, two dots, shaped like an alphabet... She could never figure out what it sounded like by looking at it alone. But the ones next to it gave her a hint.
Theodore had given her a children's book of letters. It had the alphabet and phonetic symbols, as well as words and pictures of words that could be sounded out with the symbols. Dana could look at a picture of an apple and say "apple," so she could infer the sound of the symbol backwards. ...this picture is of a 'cup'... so it must be an 'uh' sound... and this is a... 'cake'... is it an 'ah'?
Dana made one guess after another, not always perfectly, of course. Sometimes she'd get a picture that she didn't know what it meant, or a symbol that she couldn't guess in that way, but with each correct guess, she grew more confident.
"Sometimes there's a sound and sometimes there's not, but how do you tell the difference? Is there a rule?"
If it was Celeste sitting across from her, she wouldn't have hesitated to ask.
'Let's divide them into those I know and those I don't.'
Dana went back to the beginning and pronounced them one by one. By the time she got to the end, she knew at least twenty of them.
'I've memorized almost half of them, though, so it's okay...'
Dana consoled herself, matching pictures to words and phonetic symbols. Time passed. In her desperation, she began to forget about the man standing by the window. ...Oh, no. She snapped out of it.
How much time had passed? Dana quickly looked at her watch. Her heart sank as soon as she saw the time. ...Oh, my God, we only have twenty minutes!
"Is this good enough? You can't even read!"
Her hands trembled as her eyes filled with contempt. Her heart raced as if the fires of hell were closing in on her back. ...What am I going to do? I don't know anything about... eight... no, ten things?
Dana twiddled her fingers again, nervously. Her mouth went dry, and then a small voice spoke from deep within her mind.
"It depends, Dana." It was her late grandfather. "Remember, a man who says, 'There's only half a glass of water,' can never beat a man who thinks, 'There's half a glass of water.’
Was it because she was so anxious? Dana felt tears welling up in her eyes again, and she could never concentrate in this state. Dana put her hand to her throbbing chest and took a long, deep breath. ‘It's okay…’ she thought to herself, ‘There's no need to rush into anything. We've got twenty minutes. Twenty minutes...'
Her fingertips drifted back to the textbook. Dana found a picture she couldn't quite make out and puzzled over it. A man in a top hat was smiling broadly. 'Is it a hat? Or a smile? ...a laugh?' No matter how she read it, she couldn't make out the phonetic symbols. She began chewing on her trembling lips.
'No, no. No. Let's give up on this one. I must find and read something else... something more certain first...' Dana tried to calm herself, echoing her grandfather's words. But it was no use. The words on the page kept scattering like grains of sand.
How much longer? Five minutes? One minute? She turned her head to look at her watch again in desperation, and the next moment she froze, completely frozen. When had he gotten here... when had he gotten here? Sure enough, Theodore had been leaning against the far window, but now he was right in front of her, sprawled out on the couch.
She blinked again and again at the ghostly figure. But no matter how many times she looked again, the man lying there with his arms covering his face was unmistakable: Theodore Macmillan was sleeping? She couldn't tell. His unmoving body looked like he was asleep, but the way he was dressed from head to toe, not a hair out of place, suggested otherwise.
After staring for a while, Dana blinked as if to clear her head. Then she turned her attention back to her textbook. Now was not the time to worry about such things. Whether the man lay down and slept or not, it was important to learn at least one more phonetic symbol.
Dana let out a long breath and went back to reading from the beginning. She even tried tracing it with her hand to see if she could learn how to write it. But had she already lost her concentration? Or because she didn't know when those tightly closed eyelids would open?
Dana couldn't help but notice the man across from her. She stopped sighing when she realized she was glancing at him more often than she was reading the diacritics. His mouth opened as if he'd been waiting for her.
"Did you memorize everything?"
Dana's head snapped up at the husky voice. Theodore remained shielding his eyes with his arm. "Did you memorize it all?"
"Oh, not yet...."
"Do as much as you can."
Dana picked up the textbook and cleared her throat. Then she began to read. "...this, ah...." Her throat was too tight. She coughed a few times and tried again. "Eh, ah...."
She said it out loud, her eyes carefully scanning the room. Theodore listened intently. He didn't frown or show any sign of frustration. Dana gathered her courage and spoke up.
"A, ah...." "'Oh,'" Theodore interrupted. "Not 'ah', 'oh'." "Oh....," Dana quickly repeated.
"Open your mouth wider. Smaller than an 'ah'."
Dana tried one more time. The second time was pretty accurate, and he didn't say anything.
"...uh, ooh...." She read it again, but it wasn't long before she had to pause again. The symbols were completely unfamiliar to her. Sensing her hesitation, he opened his mouth.
"Air."
"...Air...." Dana repeated after him.
"Go on."
"P, v, t, de...." Dana's mouth went dry, but she didn't stop reading. "...up, g...."
“Rat. Not 'g', but 'rat'."
"...Rat."
The same thing happened a few more times. Theodore corrected Dana's mispronunciations and pronounced the stuck words first. His voice was cold and stiff as he taught her, but nothing else happened.
"Done."
Finally, it was over. Dana glanced across the book at the man. Theodore's eyes remained closed, still in the same position he'd started in. The only thing that had changed was the disheveled hair below his elbows and the slightly shadowed eyes that Dana could see more clearly.
"...Do it again, from the beginning."
Dana flinched back behind her textbook in horror. Then she craned her neck like a turtle and did as she was told. The second time, she was able to read it without much difficulty.
"One more time."
Dana dampened her dry lips and did as she was told.
"One more time," he said, almost afraid to make the last sound.
Dana felt increasingly strange: why was he doing this? She was uneasy, but she didn’t dare to disobey. Dana lifted the textbook to her eye level and read it one more time, the fourth time around, starting with "lice" and ending with "mice”.
Thinking it was really over, she put the book down. But the words that followed were completely unexpected.
"Keep going, until I tell you to stop."
With that, Theodore loosened his tie. Dumbfounded, she turned back to the textbook. Five, six, seven times... Halfway through, Dana suddenly felt a strange sensation. She stopped reading and slammed her hand down on the book. Her cautious eyes took a long, long, hard look at the man sprawled out on the couch.
In an instant, Dana realized something quite startling. Theodore was completely asleep. Should she just leave? Maybe if she just walked gently, he wouldn't know... Dana thought to herself as she stared at the motionless man.
But it was just a thought, and she had no desire to act on it. There was nowhere to go but out. She didn't want to risk the repercussions, and she didn't want to tremble with fear. The safest course of action was to wait patiently for him to wake up.
Giving up neatly, she turned her attention back to the textbook. It felt like she could breathe for a moment without the cold stare. Dana stretched her hands out in front of her, clasped them together. She tied her hair back into a fresh bun and refocused her distracted attention.
"Key, pig,...t, egg, carrot…”
Dana read the words, not the phonetic symbols.
"Live...Larry, violin..."
It was a strange thing. An hour ago, it was just a meaningless symbol, but now it was a word, and it stuck in her head. Of course, it wasn't perfect. Sometimes she had to think for a long time just to read a word, or roll her eyes in search of the phonetic symbols, so she had to push herself to learn one more letter.
The man was fast asleep. Dana wanted those eyelids to stay closed for as long as possible-at least until she could memorize all the phonetic symbols, a long, long time.
Time passed. Dana's pulse returned to normal, and the tension that had been suffocating her eased. Dana set her book down and rubbed her stiff shoulders. She closed her stiff eyes and opened them, but something on the table caught her eye. It was an unusual pen with a cap. From its shape, it was obviously a "fountain pen," which was very popular among the upper class these days.
She wondered how that was possible, since it didn't need to be inked, and the ink was contained in that little column? Her curiosity was piqued. Furthermore, underneath the pen was a stack of lined white paper. What could be more tempting to someone just starting to learn to write? Unable to resist the urge, her hand moved cautiously to the pen, her eyes still on Theodore.
The moment she gripped the heavy nib, Dana felt a surge of relief. On a whim, she unscrewed the cap. Click, the champagne-colored cap slid open to reveal a delicate nib. Beautiful. Dana couldn't help but admire it.
At the same time, she realized she was touching his stuff without permission. Dana quickly closed the lid. Just before she put it down, she felt a twinge of regret. She held it up to the air and gave it a try. There was nothing left but the sensation of air, but it was enough to see the afterimage.
Dana Bordon.
Before she learned to write, she could write her name. But it's one thing to know how to pronounce them correctly, and quite another to write them from memory. She would have to keep learning when she got back to Belvida. She was sure there was someone among the maids who would like to learn. She would ask Dorothy. What about Noah?
...By the way, Noah already knew how to write, didn't he? He exchanged letters with Gene. If she didn’t know something, he could teach them. Dana realized she had taken too long to think about this. Cautiously, she glanced at Theodore once more. The man's eyelids were still tightly closed. Dana felt a strange desire arise…
Just one more time, just one more time, but what? Dana's darting eyes caught a word on the page. A wry smile spread across her face. Her hand tightened around the pen and she traced each letter in the air.
Grandfather.
As she made the last stroke, she could hear her grandfather's voice again. "See? You can do it, can't you?"
Her chest heaved and her eyes moistened. Before she could dry them, tears threatened to escape. Dana quickly turned her head to the ceiling, blinked her eyes furiously, and tried to wipe away the embarrassing tears. And then... God smacked her in the back of the head again. No, this time it wasn't God to blame. It was Dana's own fault for not being able to control her impulses...
The moment Dana lowered her head, Theodore was instantly awakened. He blinked once at the ceiling, then turned his head toward Dana. His languid, bloodshot pupils stole her breath. Her heart began to thump and pound in hot blood. Theodore turned to face the frozen Dana calmly. His hazy green eyes slowly took on a deep blue glow.
"......."
He turned his arm from resting on his forehead to rest behind his head. Then he glanced at something. It was the fountain pen in Dana's hand.
"Oh, I was just... wondering...."
Dana quickly put it down on the table. Her hand was shaking.
"Keep it," he said nonchalantly, in a low, locked voice. Dana steadied her voice to say it was okay.
"Nothing tires an opponent out more than a lack of grace," he said coldly, pushing himself to his feet. "You know, like a 'polite decline' or something."
Dana had to clamp her mouth shut. A shadow fell over her head. Her head bowed naturally, as it always did when she stood before Theodore. He walked to his desk and poured himself a glass of water. Dana stared down at the pen. ...What should I do? Maybe it's just a pure gift.
'Hold back what's raging inside you, and you'll get what you deserve.'
As Celeste had said, the MacMillan household was used to catering to their masters and getting what they deserved. The problem was that the man was too fickle and unreliable to be so easily manipulated. At any moment, he might change his mind and wield that pen like a weapon. After a long pause, Dana spoke up before it was too late.
"...Thank you."
Theodore, meanwhile, stood wordlessly in front of the bookshelf. When he returned to the couch a few moments later, he had a book in his hand.
"Go on," he muttered to himself, "I don't think you have a bad head, you’ll catch up to Belle Celeste in no time."
He flipped through the pages. Dana frowned again as he began to read in earnest.
"Write something. Anything," he said in frustration.
Dana picked up the pen and notebook. However, she wasn't excited or even a little reluctant. Her clumsy hand gingerly opened the cap, placed the nib on the paper, and gently pressed down.
"...!"
She pressed too hard, and the black ink splashed out too fast and too loud. Dana quickly pulled her hand away in dismay. A light, insignificant chuckle came from the man across from her. Dana was furious.
'Asshole,' she thought to herself, 'I'll have to teach Celeste that word when I see her later.’ Dana chewed her lip hard and made a mental note.
"Write it down." He looked down at the smudged ink and blurted out.
"T, H, E, O...." He said it as quickly as he'd recited the phonetic symbols. There was no time to think. Dana began to dictate hastily.
"D, O, R, E...."
It was her first time holding a pen, her first time writing anything. Her handwriting was all wrong and crooked. Dana's head snapped up as she struggled to pronounce the letters.
T, H, E, O, D, O, R, E, M, A, C, M... Theo... Door... Mac... and then she looked up.
"Shouldn't you at least know your own name?" he sneered, then craned his neck to look down at the letters she'd written. It was crooked, like an earthworm crawling. Dana had to chew her cheek to keep from covering it with her hand, tasting blood again.
"I'm going to need a lot of practice," she muttered, her face burning. God, please send down a lightning bolt and put that man to sleep again, please...
Even though she knew it was useless, Dana turned to God again. The look on her humiliated face seemed to satisfy something twisted in Theodore. He seemed more amused than ever.
"Study hard," he said, and opened the book, "and don't bother your master again by not finding the letters.”
Dana tightened her grip on the pen. If there was nothing else she could do right now, it was best to just endure. She flipped to the first page of the textbook and began to trace the words.
knife, bed, gold.
Luckily, her handwriting was getting smoother as she wrote. Theodore seemed to lose interest in her and turned his attention back to the book. She was not relieved that his interest had waned. ...Never mind. She didn’t think so.
Dana clutched her fountain pen like a lifeline and wrote furiously. She was completely oblivious to the fact that the man's pupils were leaving the book at every opportunity and moving to her small hand and slender wrist, which clutched the pen.
dog, plum, piano.
The last word, "piano," was written without thinking. It didn't evoke any emotion in Dana. Theodore, however, was different. He closed the book and stared down at the face that looked unusually innocent today. Suddenly, he wondered.
"You," he said, his fingers twitching as he gripped the pen tightly. A frightened face slowly looked up in front of Theodore.
"You know what homosexual is" he said, no accent, no emphasis, just darkness all around, and it was enough to send Dana into a tailspin.
"Answer me."
...Homosexual? Dana thought hard. She didn't know exactly what he meant, but she knew he was referring to Nicola Richter. Hadn't he just said "homosexual" and then followed it with a nasty swear word? The words that accompanied the swear word were usually similar.
Like "damn" or "damned," it's just a bad word, and she really didn’t think about what it meant. But why was he doing it again? What was he trying to catch this time? Dana was starting to get nervous again.
Tap.
A sudden knock on the door saved her.
"Master, it's Wimfred."
Checking the time, Theodore closed his book and stood up. Dana breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"Come in."
The door opened and two men stepped in. One was a middle-aged man with a nicely trimmed mustache, and the other was a younger man with a lanky build.
"Tilly Bryson, what's he doing blocking the master's view, he's looking so well."
"And what about Wimfred, he seems to think he's one of the master's attendants now that Mr. Nordstrom is gone."
The butler and the huntsman, who were doing their best to look good for the master.
"Master, are you feeling well? You drank too much last night...."
Wimfred, who was carrying newspapers and coffee, stopped when he spotted Dana, and so did Tilly, who was following.
"The shooting range is all set up, and the weather is lovely, so why don't you go out early and take a lap around the lake?" Wimfred said, and poured coffee on a cup.
The bitter aroma wafted through the room, calming Dana's frazzled nerves.
"Yes, that's right. There are only a few days a year when you can see all the way to the Cologne Mountains, like today."
Tilly stepped up behind his master and tugged at his sleeve, and Theodore casually withdrew his arm to remove his jacket. Meanwhile, Wimfred began to loosen his tie. He didn't look particularly skilled at it, perhaps because he'd had so few opportunities to practice on his master.
The sight of Wimfred's tense face and trembling hands made Dana unnecessarily nervous again. She was worried that the arrogant man would lose his temper. Luckily, that didn't happen. Theodore was remarkably patient - even by Dana's standards - and the cottage's butler succeeded in untying the tie.
'Maybe I'm the only one who's a trash can for all his bad feelings...'
Dana thought to herself. Theodore, who was unbuttoning his sleeve, suddenly turned to Dana, who had no choice but to duck her head again as she heard a shout, "What are you looking at?”
"It's quite hot out, and I think you might want to put on a summer linen shirt, even if you're not dressed to the nines."
Tilly approached with a shirt, and Dana jumped to her feet, realizing that they were about to change the Master's clothes in earnest.
"Uh... I... I'm... I'm going to.... then."
All three eyes turned to Dana in unison. Dana hugged her fountain pen, notebook, and textbook to her chest as if she had been waiting.
"I... will... use this... textbook, pen, and notebook... well... thank you... for your gift."
Dana deliberately repeated the word 'gift' and Wimfred and Tilly's eyes naturally turned to it. It was a nonchalant look, but it was enough for Dana.
"Well...bye...."
Leaving the study like a fugitive, she walked nonstop until she reached the stairs. She gripped the railing weakly. Her knees buckled and a sigh of relief escaped her as she looked down into the vast hall. Only a few hours had passed, but it felt like days.
Dana pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. Her whole body felt weak. All she wanted to do was go back to her room and lie down, but she couldn't. She felt like she would never be able to stretch her legs until she got this 'gift' out of her sight. She barely managed to move her shaky legs and made her way to Celeste's room.
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Write a comment
krung12 (Sunday, 29 September 2024 22:10)
thank you for the updates.. so exciting for the upcoming chapters ❤️