"Pardon?" She asks if he does not like being called, sir. "A baron's daughter should use 'sir' for a commoner," he tells her bluntly.

 

Baron's daughter? Does he think that she is the daughter of a baron? She opened her mouth to speak, but Oscar beat her to it. "I should be thankful that you're a baron's daughter. You are more close to commoners like me. Higher nobles are quite selfish."

 

He's blunt. If he knew that she was the daughter of a Marquess, he wouldn't be this blunt. But Victoria has a strange feeling that he would still be blunt and not care who she is.

 

"Selfish?" She questions. She already knows how most nobles look down on anyone who isn't rich like them, but she couldn't help but ask. He opened his mouth to speak, but another voice cut him off. "Victoria, dear?"

 

Victoria looked towards the sound of the sweet old woman's voice. "My dear, why are you standing alone in the garden?" Mrs. Johnson asked her. Victoria saw a parasol in Mrs. Johnson's hand. "I was afraid it would start raining when I saw you out here, so I brought the parasol with me."

 

Victoria didn't listen to what she was saying. Her mind was stuck when Mrs. Johnson mentioned that Victoria was standing alone in the garden. She turned to look at where Oscar was standing, only to see no one there.

 

What a strange boy! The air around him was mysterious—how he got here, why he was here, and how he disappeared. Victoria possibly even thought that he could have been a ghost.

 

Mrs. Johnson took hold of Victoria's hand and said, "Come, my dear, let us get you inside before the clouds start to weep." She says gently. Like a mother tucking her child to bed. But she is no mother of hers, and Victoria will never be a baron's daughter.

 

A baron's daughter. Victoria never quite did tell him that what he said was false. Her not saying anything was the same as telling him that it was true.

 

That was the first lie in the garden.

 

The two walked back into the quiet villa and went to sit down. On the table was hot tea for the two to enjoy together.

 

"Victoria, dear. You have no idea how grateful I am that such a bright sun came to grace this old baron's presence." Mrs. Johnson said with a smile and took a sip of her tea. "Mrs. Johnson, is it alright if I burden you with a question?" Victoria asked her, not touching the warm teacup.

 

"Oh my, didn't you already ask me a question?" Mrs. Johnson joked slightly but gave Victoria a motherly smile. "You can ask me anything, dear."

 

"Do I look like a baron's daughter?" She finally asked, and for a moment, she thought that she had offended the sweet old woman, but that wasn't the case when she heard her laugh. "Oh my, I didn't mean to laugh. It's rare for you to ask such questions when it's not about books or knowledge. Victoria, you do look like a baron's daughter, but you are a very beautiful one."

 

Mrs. Johnson set her teacup down and smiled at Victoria. "You never worry about such elegant dresses; you dress modestly. They may be plain, but they complement your features. If this was the first time that we met, I would too think that you were a baron's daughter." Victoria grabbed a lock of her hair and attempted to hide her face; she felt slightly embarrassed.

 

"Your hair reminds me of the sun, and your eyes are like the shining river. Victoria, this may be off-topic, but if there comes a day where your parents arrange a marriage contract for you and some young man, use your looks to your advantage," it was almost like a warning.

 

"Women in this day and age are looked down upon when they thirst for knowledge instead of looks. My dear, if you ever find a young man that you fancy, I pray you both live in happiness. But if you get a fiance that you dislike and he treats you like a flightless bird, use your looks to trick him." Victoria listened intently to the woman's advice.

 

"You are a strong young woman, my dear. Use your wits and beauty to trick any man if it comes to it. I pray that you do not meet a terrible man. This old baroness worries for you like you are my granddaughter." Mrs. Johnson cupped her hands together like she was praying to God to give Victoria an easy life.

 

Victoria took a sip of her tea finally and put her hand over Mrs. Johnson's. "I promise," she said in a whisper. "I promise you that if it comes down to it, I will use my looks and wit against any horrible man. I will not fall into their clutches. I promise that I will find a good man and marry him on the spot if it comes down to it."

 

Mrs. Johnson moved her hands away and put one against Victoria's cheek. "My dear, do not marry someone in such a hurry. You are only a child. I will not be upset at you if you do not get married," she is grateful. So grateful to her.

 

"Thank you for being my friend, Mrs. Johnson," Victoria whispers with a gentle smile. "I should thank you for being this old baroness' friend. Now, did someone comment that you look like a baron's daughter?" She asked as she went back to drinking tea.

 

Victoria was about to mention that man, but what if he was a ghost? He disappeared the second Mrs. Johnson came outside. "I heard a couple of girls saying that," she lied. She should keep this one secret to herself.

 

"Well, even if you were, you would be the most beautiful daughter of a baron." She was far too kind to a girl like Victoria.

 

Thunder roared across the sky. It was like a beat screaming, disturbing everything in its wake.

 

The two looked out the window, seeing the clouds crying and leaving tear stains on the ground. "I should be going, Mrs. Johnson. Apologies that we couldn't talk about the book." Victoria apologizes as she stands up.

 

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. "No need for apologies, my dear. How about you pick a different book to take home?" She suggested, and Victoria shook her head, "Father comes home tomorrow morning. I will finally ask him if I could use his study. I've been meaning to read a few history books. But how about I come here twice a week?" She asks.

 

Mrs. Johnson chuckles, "You are always welcome to come here. It gets quite lonely without your company," Victoria gave Mrs. Johnson a little courtesy. In truth, she knows that her mother will bother her even more about marriage once her father comes home. She is also very curious about the mysterious boy that she met in the garden.

 

"You can keep the parasol," Mrs. Johnson tells her. "Are you sure?" Victoria wonders, "It belongs to you." Mrs. Johnson shakes her head. "It now belongs to you, my dear. The color matches your eyes, and you hate the rain, so I would hate for you to get wet."

 

"Thank you," Victoria thanked her in a gentle voice. "I will walk you to the front door, my dear." Mrs. Johnson put her hand behind Victoria's back and walked her to the front door and opened it for her.

 

"I'll see you again, Mrs. Johnson," Victoria says as she opens her parasol, holds it above her, and walks towards the carriage. The coachman opens the door for her, the rain kissing the roof of the parasol and the coachman's coat.

 

He helped her up the small steps to get in the carriage and closed the door. Victoria looks out the small window, looking at the garden one last time before they start leaving, heading back to the lonely mansion.

 

After some time passes, she makes it back home and sees another carriage beside hers. She was confused and wondered who it could be. It can't be her father; he was scheduled to return tomorrow.

 

She got out of the carriage and began walking up the steps. She saw the butler outside who opened the door for her. It is raining; was he waiting for her return this entire time?

 

"The madam is in the drawing room waiting for you," was all he said when she walked inside, and he shut the door behind her. She clutches the parasol in her hands. Her heart felt heavy, and she could feel dread hugging her from behind and whispering in her ear that something was about to happen.

 

Victoria walked towards the quiet hallway and stood in front of the drawing-room, anxiety welling up in her heart as she knocked on the door. "Come in!" A voice yelled out.

 

Victoria opened the door but stopped in her tracks and looked at the man sitting across from her mother. "Ms. Victoria, it's a pleasure to meet you," the man said, but all she could think about was the advice that Mrs. Johnson gave her.

 

Who knew she would have to use that advice so soon?