Chapter 15
The period in question was the autumn of three years past.
The Bonnell family stood at the epicenter of an event that marked a significant line in Beloff’s history. This event was “that very incident” where the Bonnell family, originally a mere merchant house, was lawfully elevated to the rank of a count, not through the bestowal of His Majesty the King, but through the process of purchase.
As this was an unprecedented occurrence, protest erupted from all quarters, and not only was the entire nation thrown into turmoil, but neighboring countries were embroiled in chaos as well. Yeomen and gentry rejoiced in many places, while those who revered antiquated traditions and the value of an unseen bloodline displayed a rabid hatred, insisting that the Bonnells should be set upon the pyre.
It was equally infuriating how countless, unheard-of aristocrats lodged suits and found fault on an almost daily basis. Nevertheless, their mother and uncle, accepting this as a hardship to be endured, willingly—and here, willingly encompasses the phrase sparing no expense—fought numerous legal battles to affirm the legality of the Bonnell title purchase.
They were persecuted for approximately four years, during which the lawsuits they were forced to undergo likely exceeded all the legal troubles Annette R. Bonnel had experienced in her lifetime.
Ultimately, given the unique circumstances of the situation, the Bonnells were acknowledged as legitimate, thus becoming the Count Bonnell family, with Alfonso Bonnell as its patriarch.
However, a considerable number of people maintained an attitude of non-compliance, regardless of the legal judgment. This was along the same lines as the ‘those from Chavin’ faction.
Among them, Timothy was an extreme supporter of the Lion Party, even denouncing the Bonnell act of purchasing a title as treason. He went so far as to appear at the Platypus Party’s general assembly, with whom the Bonnells maintained a favorable relationship through massive donations, vehemently condemning the Bonnells while lamenting ‘the reason the world is going wrong’ and ‘its root cause.’
Due to his profound contempt, Annette R. Bonnel and Benedict Bonnel, then in their mid-teens, did not conceal their youthful resolution to seek revenge. The retribution was executed when the wine party commenced after the general assembly concluded.
Timothy, who was pouring his entire being into raising his voice in resistance against the Bonnells while clutching a wine bottle, ended up drinking wine tainted with pine caterpillars and dog urine. As it turned out, he had a dog allergy, and he was hauled away to the hospital, streaming tears and scratching his entire body like a dog. The incident was prominently featured in the newspapers.
While both Benedict Bonnel and Annette R. Bonnel were equally startled by the unexpected scale of the event, fortunately, they were not caught. The problem, however, lay in Annette R. Bonnel bursting into thunderous laughter upon seeing Timothy, who was practically howling and scratching his whole body like a canine, before he was carried off. Timothy hurled curses at the Bonnells in her direction, and for a time afterward, continued to speak ill of their family… and so on.
It’s been three years. Could he still remember?
…Surely he couldn’t?
“Where is your wife, by the way?”
“She will arrive shortly. She had a brief stop to make on the way.”
“Allow me to wish you a happy anniversary. Had I known sooner, I would have prepared a small gift.”
“Not at all. Your sentiments are gift enough… But am I being indelicate by interrupting your intimate time with this young lady? Is there some good news forthcoming?”
Timothy, directing his attention to Annette R. Bonnel, asked with a hearty laugh. Lionel Yorkshire, his expression devoid of the madman-like intensity from a moment ago, looked back at her with a warm smile and evasively said, “It is not quite like that…”
“Nonsense. You were seated so intimately that I felt awkward even addressing you. Since fate has brought us together, may I introduce myself?”
No, you may not. Annette R. Bonnel, inclining her head slightly, remained breathlessly silent. Lionel Yorkshire, observing Annette R. Bonnel with a strange gaze, smoothly managed the situation.
“She is a bit shy. It was not a personal matter, but a public one we were discussing. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
“A public matter, you say.”
However, just as things couldn’t get worse, Gervais and Laetitia, covered in sweat, were visible entering the restaurant’s entrance at that precise moment.
No, absolutely not!
“Yet, if I may be so bold as to say… it is strangely as if I have seen you somewhere before…”
As Timothy’s gaze, focused on her suspiciously motionless form, intensified, Annette R. Bonnel, tightening her grip on her hat, sprang to her feet.
“Please excuse me for a moment.”
Annette R. Bonnel, who left the seat attempting to avoid Timothy, was apprehended before she could take more than a few steps.
“Miss Charlotte? What is the matter?”
Lionel Yorkshire, who held her wrist firmly with a gentle smile, clearly had no intention of releasing her. Yes, he might have noticed her attempt to slip away, but Annette R. Bonnel‘s priority was leaving the vicinity.
Perhaps realizing that holding onto her for too long would not present a favorable picture, Lionel Yorkshire naturally blocked her path with his own body.
“You look unwell.”
By his expression alone, he appeared genuinely concerned for her, and had she not known Lionel Yorkshire‘s true nature, she might have believed it.
“That is not the case. I must briefly visit the ladies’ room. I know how difficult it is for you to be apart from me for even a moment, my Lord, but you must grant me time to refresh my toilette before greeting others.”
A faint spasm twitched at Lionel Yorkshire‘s mouth before vanishing without a trace. This man was truly a master of facial control. He offered her a warm smile and politely stepped aside.
“Of course. If you require anything, you may ask my friends.”
This was spoken with the confidence of knowing he had stationed people to guard the entrance.
“I shall remember that.”
It hardly mattered. Annette R. Bonnel quickly replied and swiftly walked past him. Timothy Chastain’s oily stare made her skin crawl just by acknowledging it. Annette R. Bonnel, striving to walk haughtily, naturally, and indifferently toward the inner part of the restaurant, quickly glanced around as if searching for the restroom, then abruptly turned into the partition leading to the kitchen.
Just then, a waiter carrying a tray with wine and glasses was walking out from within.
“Excuse me, guests are not permitted to enter here…”
Annette R. Bonnel met the waiter’s eyes, quickly glanced back toward the partition, and then yanked the waiter’s vest, pulling him into a corner. The waiter’s name tag read Trevor.
“Mr. Trevor.”
Annette R. Bonnel spoke to Trevor, feigning a shy, pathetic, and simultaneously terrified girl. Having seen a play earlier that day helped.
“Please help me. The man who accompanied me into the dining room is a very frightening person. I have pleaded with him to stop and leave me alone, but he refuses to let me go. I see no way to escape. Even now, he is threatening me that he has stationed men at the restaurant’s entrance, and I am so scared…”
Trevor, startled by the sudden tears of a guest, set the tray of wine he was carrying down on a nearby table and attempted to comfort her.
“Madam, I do not know the exact nature of your distress, but please do not worry too much. Um, how may I assist you?”
Annette R. Bonnel feigned dabbing her eyes with her sleeve and subtly inquired.
“Is there a door in the kitchen that leads outside?”
“Ah, well, I apologize, but it might be better if I call the police instead. In any case, the kitchen is restricted to outside access…”
“No. Do you know who this man is? He will not even blink if the police arrive.”
“Oh.”
Annette R. Bonnel quickly pulled back the waiter, Trevor, who was about to peer out over the partition, and smoothly slipped a folded 100 livre bill between his fingers into his pocket.
“Surely the kitchen has an emergency exit?”
“Ah.”
Annette R. Bonnel believed that even a whale could be made to dance with a tip, and generally, her belief was always right. An unconcealed smile briefly flickered on Trevor’s face.
Thus, returning to the beginning, Annette R. Bonnel was fleeing the most popular man in Beloff. She felt both pitiful and triumphant as she squeezed past baskets of unknown herbs and sacks of flour, permeated by the pungent odors of tomatoes, onions, and beets.
Meeting the eyes of the chefs, whose eyes were watering from the onions, she said primly, “I am being chased by a stalker. Please carry on with your work,” and placed the 100 livre bills on the polished stainless steel cooking table.
The chefs’ narrowed eyes widened with favor, and Annette R. Bonnel, receiving their fervent encouragement, opened the small service door of the restaurant and was finally free.
