Chapter 28
Part 4. The Tutor Has a Headache (2)
Melanie agreed to the idea of group lessons on the condition that she could stay for dinner.
But it wasn’t even really a condition. Agnes simply had to enjoy the elaborate meal Melanie had prepared. After eating until she was stuffed and seeing Celine and Ben off to bed, she was finally allowed to return home.
Agnes immediately requested a consultation with the butler, Carlo. She reported that she planned to hold group lessons with the children of the Westwick Count family and had already received permission.
Though the term “group lessons” sounded simple, the preparation was anything but. Choosing a location was one issue, and coordinating the necessary staff and guards for travel was another.
Still, it was a necessary step.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Miss,” Carlo said with concern.
It was clear he thought differently.
“Just handling one young master was difficult enough, but now three of them, all at once…”
“There’s no need to be afraid. They’re really good kids,” Agnes said brightly.
“You also said Young Master Timothy was kind and gentle.”
“Because he is kind and gentle…?”
“Yes. And that’s exactly why I’m worried—because your standards are very different from most people’s.”
Carlo looked at her with a cold, flat gaze. Having endured Timothy’s mischief and tantrums before Agnes arrived, no amount of explanation or sugarcoating could sway him.
“But hasn’t he gotten a lot better now?”
Agnes replied shamelessly, though she meant every word.
‘He hardly causes any trouble now. He studies well. He actually sleeps at bedtime…’
Even his outward behavior had improved visibly. Timothy still blurted out rude things from time to time, but he no longer lashed out. He didn’t hit people or break things for no reason.
Since the day he smashed up his own room, Agnes had paid close attention, carefully observing when he showed signs of aggression. But surprisingly, Timothy hadn’t shown any since. In fact, he couldn’t even meet her eyes when he saw the injury his outburst had caused her.
That was when Agnes decided group lessons could work.
It was proof that he could now notice others’ pain.
“Yes, he’s improved greatly. Thanks to you, Miss, we can finally sleep peacefully at night for the first time in a year.”
“See? He’s better now, isn’t he?”
“He is—when he’s around you.”
“…Pardon?”
“There’s no doubt that he’s changed since you arrived. He no longer bullies or picks fights with the staff. He doesn’t sneak into the kitchen and make a mess. He doesn’t dump the laundry anymore.”
“……”
“After lessons, Young Master Timothy actually reads. I don’t know if he’s reviewing what he learned or preparing for the next day, but after a simple dinner and a bath, he goes straight to bed.”
“He reads…?”
He had insisted four hours a day was more than enough and refused to do homework, yet now he was reading? Agnes blinked in disbelief.
“Yes. He doesn’t respond to anyone trying to talk to him.”
“……”
“He just isn’t interested in anyone else.”
“…I didn’t know that.”
“Of course not,” Carlo said, shaking his head gently.
“You’re not watching his every move. I only know because someone reported it to me.”
“…I see…”
“On the whole, his changes are positive. Even the child who reported it said it was a relief and seemed happier. To others, it may look like he’s getting better, but… to these old eyes, I’m not so sure.”
Agnes’s mind grew muddled in an instant.
‘What went wrong?’
As Timothy became more docile, the people around him softened too. Agnes had believed that if Timothy treated others the way he treated her, he would be loved—and that he would welcome that love.
She had been too naive.
‘It was never going to be that easy. If this could’ve been fixed in just a month, the Marquess of Reynold’s life wouldn’t have fallen apart.’
It had been exactly a month since Agnes became the tutor of the Bartenberg family. Just two days ago, in this very room, she had received her first paycheck—far more than stated in the contract thanks to bonuses and vacation pay. Up until then, she had felt confident about her progress with Timothy.
He had opened his heart—to her, and only her.
“That’s exactly why group lessons are necessary. Timothy needs to learn how important other people are.”
Agnes spoke with solemn determination.
What prompted her to consider group lessons was a single line from Timothy: “I don’t need friends.”
To say that meant he’d never had friends, only adults around him. She thought that if he learned how to interact with peers, his social skills would naturally improve.
“Friendship is just a bunch of people who can’t do anything alone clinging to each other.”
People are born alone and die alone—but they can’t live alone.
Even the strongest person has moments of weakness and will long for warmth. Everyone wants someone to recognize their pain, to love them. Giving and receiving affection—connections with others—are essential to life.
Especially for someone like Timothy, who was particularly prone to loneliness.
“If you insist, Miss, then I suppose I have no choice. I’ll contact the Westwick family and arrange the schedule.”
“Thank you so much!”
“But Miss… if we’ve come this far in the discussion, then surely, our master is aware of this plan too, right?”
“Huh?”
“This also constitutes social interaction with the Westwick family. We must have His Grace’s approval.”
“It’s just a lesson. It’s not some grand diplomatic exchange.”
“Still, you must obtain His Grace’s permission.”
Carlo cut in firmly.
“I won’t interfere with your lesson content, but if another household is involved, that’s a different matter. Young Master Timothy may be young, but he is still the Marquess of Reynold.”
Agnes looked flustered.
“But… it’s just making friends?”
“Even making friends must be approached carefully, given his status. I don’t mean the Westwick children are unworthy, but all of Young Master’s social relations must be overseen by his guardian.”
Agnes let out a small sigh. She hadn’t considered things that deeply. Subconsciously, she had assumed Ethan wouldn’t care enough to object anyway.
But of course, it was only natural for a guardian to be involved in the social connections of a noble child.
‘He is a high-ranking noble, after all.’
Agnes lowered her head, crestfallen. She had only taught children from single households before, so this kind of thing had slipped her mind.
“Then I’ll go see His Grace tomorrow and ask for his permission. I’m sorry. I acted too hastily.”
“No apology needed to me. Once you have his approval, I’ll proceed with arrangements immediately. Don’t worry—His Grace won’t oppose it.”
“…Okay.”
Her voice lacked its usual strength.
‘I only skipped visiting him today after going every day…’
Carlo looked uncomfortable, perhaps concerned by her gloom. Sensing his gaze, Agnes quickly pulled herself together and said,
“Well, I’ll be going now. Sorry for keeping you up so late.”
“Not at all. Have a good rest, Miss.”
Carlo warmly saw her out. Agnes closed the door and let out a short breath.
Today had felt especially long. She wanted to wash up and collapse into bed, but the heavy dinner still sat in her stomach.
Melanie had filled the table with all of Agnes’s favorite dishes and watched her eat with eyes full of anticipation. As a result, Agnes had eaten far more than usual.
‘If I go straight to bed like this, I’ll definitely get indigestion. Maybe I’ll take a walk.’
She pulled out her pocket watch. It was close to 10 p.m.—not too late, but not ideal for a stroll either. So she decided to take a slightly longer route back to her room, just walking inside the mansion.
Why didn’t Timothy interact with anyone besides her? Sure, he’d stopped playing pranks, as she had said—but she hadn’t meant for him to do nothing at all.
Was it possible he didn’t see anyone of lower status as his equal, and therefore unworthy of interaction?
‘If that were true, he wouldn’t have opened up to me. I’m not anyone special.’
Eventually, even her desire to walk vanished. Still feeling down, Agnes turned toward her room.
‘Huh?’
Someone was standing in front of her door.
Who could it be?
Agnes narrowed her eyes. No one should be looking for her at this hour. The hallway lights were dim, making it hard to see clearly. Before she could make out the figure’s face, a voice called out:
“Aren’t you out a bit too late?”
“…Your Grace?”
