On Rational Marital Life - Chapter 48

Layla listened to the Viscountess for a while before politely cutting the conversation short and standing up. Most of the discussion had been nostalgic recollections about how prosperous the Bastian Viscounty once was—how many jewels they had acquired, how they lined up tailors to craft their clothes, and other fond memories of their golden days.

“Thank you for coming. My lady was very pleased to hear of your visit.”

Only the butler came out to the entrance to see her off.

The Viscountess, claiming to have a headache, had bid her farewell from inside the house and turned away.

Since Layla held no title, the Viscountess must have thought it unnecessary to personally see her off. Blake had come as an envoy, but he held no noble rank. Even though Layla was the daughter of an earl, her marriage to Blake had severed any connection to a noble title.

Layla welcomed the indifference. It gave her a chance to speak with Bernard, the butler.

“There is no butler yet at the Burman household. If you ever miss the estate, I hope you’ll consider returning. The servants miss you dearly.”

“I’ve heard that the mansion is being run without a butler or a head maid. But I have always been loyal to the Bastian Viscounty. I believe it is my destiny to serve and protect the Viscount’s family.”

His unwavering dedication saddened Layla, but she chose not to insist further.

Whaler had once mistakenly assumed that Bernard’s refusal was simply out of politeness, but that was not the case. Bernard was truly devoted.

“The Viscountess would be grateful for your loyalty. I’d love to have you with us, but I understand—you have many memories here.”

“…Thank you for saying that.”

Bernard pressed his lips together firmly and bowed deeply to Layla—a gesture of utmost respect.

As she was about to step into the carriage, Bernard held the door open for her and spoke in a low voice.

“If… if it’s not too much to ask, would you also consider making an offer to Anne, the former head maid? She is currently running a vegetable shop on Bakery Street with her daughter.”

“I will. Do you know her address?”

Bernard’s face brightened as he provided her with Anne’s location.

* * *

The vegetable shop Bernard had mentioned was located in a narrow alley off the main street. Due to its poor location, there was only one customer browsing through the produce.

A middle-aged woman with a sturdy build but a weary face sat in the shop. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a hairnet, with no stray strands, reflecting her meticulous nature.

Layla got off at a distance so as not to obstruct the shop’s entrance. As she approached, a young man with red hair suddenly dashed into the store. He shoved his hand into the cash box and grabbed a handful of money.

Startled, the middle-aged woman grabbed his clothes and smacked his back.

“Hey! Get a hold of yourself, Max! How long are you going to keep doing this?”

“Let go! You think you can survive on this pathetic shop alone? I’ll make it big for us!”

“If you’re so confident, go earn it yourself! At least leave enough to put food on the table! This money is to feed your kids, you fool!”

“Just trust me!”

The man swung his arm violently, shaking Anne off, and ran away with the stolen bills tucked into his pocket.

Layla, shocked, watched the scene unfold. Anne let out a deep sigh and slowly got up. The other shopkeepers in the alley came out briefly to check what had happened but, as if it was a common occurrence, they simply made passing comments before returning to their businesses.

“Anne, you should just divorce him.”

“A gambler will sell his own children if he has to. You should take your daughter and leave. How long are you going to watch your good-for-nothing son-in-law take all your money?”

Anne merely waved them off and started rearranging the vegetable baskets that had been knocked over in the struggle.

It wasn’t an ideal time to visit, but Layla couldn’t afford to wait for another opportunity.

“Anne?”

“Who…? Oh!”

Hearing her name, Anne looked up, trying to place the voice. The moment she recognized Layla, her eyes widened.

At one point, Layla’s face had been on the front page of newspapers, so most people in the capital of Gremors would recognize her. Everyone knew the story of how the former fiancée of the crown prince had fallen from grace and whom she had ended up marrying.

“Madam Burman.”

“I visited the Viscountess of Bastian today to deliver a portrait of the late Viscount. While there, I met Bernard. He suggested I reach out to you.”

“He should mind his own business instead of worrying about others.”

Anne sighed, pushing back the stray hair that had fallen from her hairnet.

“The estate needs a head maid.”

“I figured that’s why you came to me. Have you found a butler yet?”

“No. I offered Bernard the position, but he turned it down.”

“That man is so stubborn and old-fashioned. The family is ruined, so what loyalty is he clinging to? Why is he working like a slave without even getting paid? The Viscountess even slapped him… I did serve for a while out of old loyalty, but I couldn’t keep working under such humiliation, so I left.”

Her words were unexpected. Layla had been unaware of the full situation, but it seemed things were worse than she had thought.

Seeing Layla’s wide-eyed surprise, Anne quickly backtracked, as if realizing she had spoken too bluntly. After all, despite everything, the Viscountess had once been her mistress.

“She wasn’t always like that… She’s not a bad person. But with everything that’s happened, she’s become more and more sensitive. My daughter kept insisting that she needed help at the shop, so I finally agreed to leave. Looking back, I should have realized why she suddenly wanted me to live with her… Her husband is drowning in gambling.”

Anne sighed heavily, as if everyone around already knew about it anyway. Even with just this brief conversation, Layla could tell she had a warm and easygoing personality—someone who would get along well with the mercenaries at the estate.

Layla made her offer sincerely.

“Come back to the estate.”

Anne looked at her, pressing her lips together. She didn’t hesitate for long, but her answer wasn’t what Layla had hoped for.

“…I want to. I really do. I want to divorce that good-for-nothing man and leave this place with my daughter…”

Anne let out another sigh, genuinely disappointed.

“But without a butler, it would be difficult. At my age, adjusting to a new one would be no easy task.”

* * *

The outing had ended in failure. Layla felt even more disappointed because both Bernard and Anne were good people.

Even as Jerry excitedly chattered about what he had learned from Ham, Layla could only respond halfheartedly, lost in thought. Seeing her in such a gloomy state, Blake asked what was wrong.

Layla recounted her visit to the Bastian Viscounty earlier that day—how she had met the former butler, Bernard, and offered the position of head maid to Anne.

“In the end, they both turned me down.”

“What are you talking about? Didn’t Anne say she’d take the job if you brought in the butler? That’s not a complete refusal.”

“But Bernard seems to have no intention of leaving his current post.”

Blake scoffed, as if it wasn’t much of a problem.

“If he’s that loyal, then he’ll listen to his master.”

“What?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait… You’re not thinking of putting a hiring notice in the newspaper, are you?”

Layla recoiled at the thought, remembering a previous conversation.

“His name was Bernard, right? I’ll bring that butler over. You want him, don’t you?”

“Yes, the other servants trust him. It would be great if he came back… but do you really have a way?”

Blake smirked confidently.

“There’s only one thing you need when a deal isn’t working. Leave it to me.”

Layla, growing anxious, quickly added,

“No violence. And no threats!”

* * *

At the sound of loud knocking on the front door, Viscountess Bastian clutched her aching head and shouted.

“Bernard!”

“Ah, yes!”

Wiping his wet hands on his apron, Bernard hurried out of the kitchen.

Even after repaying the debts, there was still enough money left to sustain an average commoner for ten years. However, the Viscountess refused to pay wages to the maid and the former head maid who had followed her out of loyalty, claiming there was no money.

Eventually, those who had stayed out of goodwill all left, leaving only Bernard behind to handle household chores, laundry, and cooking—tasks he had never done before.

On top of that, he also had to tend to the Viscountess’s needs and endure her outbursts.

Yesterday, when she decided to sell a framed portrait to buy cosmetics, she had been in a good mood. But today was different. The realization that she was now excited over such trivial things suddenly made her feel utterly miserable.

“What are you dawdling for? Someone’s knocking! Get rid of them immediately! Throw water at them if you have to, so they never come back!”

Hearing her sharp voice, Bernard opened the door. His face hardened as he saw a broad-shouldered man blocking his view.

“Blake Burman. I’m here to see the Viscountess.”

“…Do you have an appointment?”

He asked out of courtesy, even though he knew the guest had come unannounced.

“No.”

“Please arrange an appointment and visit another time.”

“If you send me away now, the Viscountess will be furious. I’m someone she’ll want to see.”

“…I will ask her.”

Only a thin wall separated the entrance from the drawing room. Even with the door closed, every word could be heard.

With a deep frown, Viscountess Bastian snapped at Bernard.

“Why is that barbarian here? Is he trying to take the portrait back?”

“Shall I send him away?”

“As if I could! How am I supposed to deal with that brute? What is he scheming?”

Biting her lower lip anxiously, the Viscountess smoothed out her dress and sat on the sofa.

“I’ll meet him. I should at least hear what he has to say.”

“Understood. I will stay by your side.”

The Viscountess sighed.

“…If it weren’t for you, Bernard, I wouldn’t have survived.”

“Please don’t say such things, my lady. You are a strong woman.”

Fearing that she might be ridiculed, the Viscountess adjusted her posture. This was a meeting between the estate’s former owner and its current owner. She sat up straight as she welcomed her guest.

Following Bernard, Blake Burman entered the room, along with Whaler, whom she had met when selling the estate.

Seeing Whaler—who had shamelessly negotiated the price down with neither class nor courtesy—made the Viscountess grit her teeth.

“I usually don’t meet unannounced guests, but it would be rude to turn away a visitor who has come all this way. Please, sit.”

Blake casually glanced around the drawing room.

“This place is completely ruined.”

“Please be mindful of your words in front of the lady.”

Bernard warned, his expression stiff.

“Whaler, since you bought the house, you must have met the butler.”

“Yes, he scolded me for not wiping the dirt off my shoes before stepping inside.”

“Oh? He actually dared to lecture you? That’s bold.”

Blake sat back on the sofa and chatted with Whaler, ignoring the Viscountess.

Watching them, she finally spoke in an icy voice.

“What is your business here?”

Blake smirked.

“I’m here to buy the butler. Sell him to me.”

His confidence was so absurd that the Viscountess was momentarily speechless. Bernard, standing beside her, looked at her with a grim expression.

“Hah! What do you take people for? If that’s your business here, leave at once! Bernard is family. He is not something to be bought and sold!”

Bernard had spent years serving the Viscountess, witnessing the downfall of the Bastian family up close. He had remained out of duty rather than fulfillment. He had never abandoned the Viscountess, though he had often felt disillusioned.

Yet now, she was calling him family.

His eyes grew moist.

Blake sighed.

“Oh dear, you’ve turned me down.”

Then, leaning back into the sofa, he turned to Whaler with a knowing smile.

“Whaler, do you know what you need when things don’t go your way?”

With a glint in his eye, Blake pulled out a checkbook from his coat.

“You buy the butler. 10,000.”

His grin widened mischievously.

“The longer you wait, the lower the price. The sooner you sell, the better.”