Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 61
“Dancing… dancing, huh.”
While she had no concerns about other aspects, dancing was a significant issue.
Who would believe that a woman, a granddaughter of gypsies and the daughter of a dancer, couldn’t dance?
Lilith criticized Cecilia’s dancing, saying it resembled a log stumbling around. She could have taught her a bit, but no, even close to death, she refused to teach her dancing.
If she now asks her father for dance lessons, he’d probably assign Caroline’s governess to her. A miser who wouldn’t even hire a new maid for his children would hardly hire a dance instructor separately.
Caroline’s governess, Louise ClĂ©on, was a mad woman. It’s better to learn on her own than to be taught by her.
Of course, self-teaching wouldn’t meet Guinevere’s standards by far.
…Considering everything she’s done so far, this seemed minor, but it’s surprisingly difficult.
Her mind was cluttered with such trivial matters. She often received criticism for making easy things difficult and difficult things easy, and this was exactly one of those times.
“I need a change of pace.”
Cecilia took a quilted lap blanket and a handkerchief and went down to the kitchen.
“Oh my, Miss Ceci, you’ve come?”
The chef greeted her warmly.
The new chef, who had recently entered the manor, was one of the few people who didn’t discriminate against Cecilia because of her origins. In fact, they had been quite close since her previous life.
Though she was pretending not to know him now, the chef, who also came from the back alleys and was a single mother raising a child on her own, seemed to have a soft spot for Cecilia, this householdâs illegitimate child.
“Patsy, I’m hungry.”
“Really? Shall I make you a sardine pie?”
Ugh, she really disliked that.
“I’d like some crĂšme brĂ»lĂ©e.”
“Ah, the dessert you mentioned last time!”
“Yes, that one.”
The easiest way to get on good terms with a chef is to share recipes.
Cecilia had a deep understanding of gourmet food, and the chef was amazed by her extensive knowledge of cuisine.
“It seems there are all sorts of dishes in the southern countries.”
Patsy said as she quickly whipped up something resembling crÚme brûlée.
Cecilia took the warm dessert outside and sat on the fountain, covering her legs with the lap blanket she had brought and tapping the top of the crÚme brûlée with a spoon.
The crisp crackling sound broke the brown sugar surface, revealing the soft custard cream beneath.
She scooped a generous portion and swallowed it in one bite.
“Mmm.”
Not exactly heavenly… but among the desserts at the Coffret Manor, it was passable.
‘Indeed, desserts from the southern countries still taste somewhat decent even after passing through the hands of Caswick’s chefs.’
The blue sky, the refreshing sound of the fountain, and the sweet dessert made a perfect combination.
It was an exceptionally good day.
Until a little creature, not even 4 feet tall, waddling over with sausage-like arms and legs, approached.
“Ceciwia, whatâwe yew doinâ hewe?” (Cecilia, whatâre you doing here?)
Nathan Lasphilla, with his soft gray hair neatly combed, grabbed the hem of her dress and asked.
“Did you come for a walk? Then just go on your way.”
Cecilia looked at her younger brother with a cold gaze. Beside him, a nursery maid anxiously watched over Nathan.
“Ceciwia, whatâwe yew eatinâ?” (Cecilia, whatâre you eating?)
“It’s not tasty.”
“Liah.” (Liar.)
Quite sharp for a three-year-old.
“Can Nathan haff some too?” (Can Nathan have some too?)
“You have your own food. There are plenty of people to take care of you.”
“Nathan dun haff anyfing to eat.” (Nathan doesnât have anything to eat.)
Nathan pouted his lips.
“Awways, thwe wittow mice steaw it.” (Always, the little mice steal it.)
“…”
Did the practice of feeding mice the food to test for poison appear to young Nathan as if the mice were stealing his meals?
Somehow, the young heir of the Count, who should be pampered and shielded within linens, had recently developed an increased appetite.
‘It’s useless anyway.’
Palmasca was not an immediate-acting drug but one that slowly developed symptoms. If diluted as Guinevere did, it’s impossible to detect any changes with just a small amount.
It’s just causing the child unnecessary trouble.
Look, now the heir of the Count’s household, who should be eating and sleeping well, wasn’t his appetite rising unjustly?
“Nathan wanna eat too. Pwease giff sum to Nathan.” (Nathan wants to eat too. Please give some to Nathan.)
Nathan stretched out his hands with an angelic smile on his pink cheeks. A deadly smile that would have made anyone else instantly hand over their spoon…
“No.”
Cecilia was unmoved. She even lifted the dessert high out of Nathan’s reach.
“Ceciwia, so mean…”
Nathan’s eyes brimmed with tears, and he pouted his cheeks.
“You, you monstow…”
“…What?”
To think he’d say such things after she saved his life. He must have learned it from Margaret. This was why young children shouldn’t be left in the same room.
