The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 188 Ch.187 Taylor Without a Child

When Randolph hurried back home after a busy day, he heard a loud and clear "Woof" -

He thought his sister bought a pet.

Shouldn't it?

"Mr. Collins called today."

Theresa served him personally, taking off his windbreaker and scarf, hanging up his hat and gloves, and telling him everything that had happened that day.

Although Taylor and Collins had a close relationship, Theresa had no idea how close they were.

As the old maid spoke, she observed Randolph's expression - until the shrewd businessman noticed this and made a teasing remark.

"Teresa, you watched me grow up."

The old maid shrugged and gave Randolph a look like a child: "...So what? I have to be careful. If I'm kicked out at my age, I'll freeze to death."

Randolph laughed, "Mr. Taylor would whip me with a horsewhip."

"If he was willing, I would have taken care of little Taylor a long time ago."

Theresa's words made it clear.

Or maybe it can be considered a kind of intimate complaint.

Because she has followed Randolph's father since she was young, and now she is almost half of Randolph's family.

She watched Randolph and Beatrice be born and grow up, and some worries were inevitable.

For example, Beatrice's 'illness', for example...

When did Randolph Taylor get married and have children.

"It's time for the Taylor family to have an heir."

Randolph waved his hand to let the servants who were approaching disperse, stepped onto the carpet, sat down on the sofa, and crossed his legs lazily.

"That's what's in front of you."

Looking at the man who was still like a child in front of her, Theresa sighed deeply, walked around the long table in small steps, and got him a cigar from the box on the counter.

After handing it to him, he cut the end and lit it with a silver tin lighter.

"Now I only hope to see you get married before I die," she said.

Randolph held the cigar between his legs and took a puff. "...You don't know, Theresa, I'm quite popular with the ladies."

"Only 'entertaining' but not marrying." Theresa put down the lighter, took off his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and tightened his neck all day: "Mr. Taylor has sent two letters. I think your carefree days are coming to an end."

"Free and easy?" Randolph grinned and couldn't help complaining, "I'm busy every day for the Taylor family. And your real master ran away to Porti and didn't come back for the whole winter."

Theresa deadpanned, "At least he had a baby."

Randolph: ...

"Teresa, I think that I should focus on the development of the Taylor family rather than women—"

The old maid nodded with a smile: "I would like to agree with you, sir. As a servant, in order to avoid embarrassment, we should make mistakes with our master."

Randolph pouted.

He couldn't defeat Tereza, especially since the older he got, the more powerful his mouth became.

She watched him grow up and knew almost everything about him.

"I let Sally go."

Theresa said suddenly.

"Sally..." Randolph looked sideways for a moment, but still couldn't remember the name: "...Who?"

"A new servant."

Theresa said.

She told Randolph in detail what happened outside the bathroom.

"…You did the right thing. There can't be another 'Lei' in the Taylor family. You have to help me keep an eye on these people." He brushed his knees, crossed his legs, stared straight at the fireplace, and fell into deep thought. "I don't care about that matter, Theresa."

He was referring to the cursed brown-skinned woman whom Roland brought today.

"I said, Roland is my friend."

Randolph didn't want Theresa to guess his thoughts on this matter, so he told the old maid clearly: "He is my friend, and I am willing to give him my sincerity and friendship. Because he has given me the same thing before."

Theresa nodded slightly. "I see. So, regarding the servants who will take care of and treat Miss Beatrice, have you decided on a replacement?"

Since the middle-aged maid was not feeling well and was about to take leave to go home, some young ones were eager to try and came to Theresa to plead, saying that they wanted to become Beatrice's personal maid.

Theresa agreed on the surface, but turned around and said nothing to help them.

In the Taylor family, of course, the one with the last name Taylor has the final say. "I'm not home often, Theresa." Randolph pinched his brows, his face showing fatigue: "...Oh, the tutor you mentioned before...how is it?"

"Miss Bronte? She is indeed a qualified candidate." Theresa nodded. "She is very patient and has two long teaching experiences. To be honest, Beatrice likes her very much."

"Beatrice doesn't need teaching experience." Randolph's blue eyes flickered: "As long as she likes it."

Bronte…

"Let me see her, Theresa."

…………

……

When Bronte was led into the living room, Randolph was boredly flipping through a thin volume of poetry.

The wine in the wine glass was almost gone, just like the flames in the fireplace.

This proved to be late.

"Mr. Taylor, please forgive me."

Bronte wore her hair in two thick braids, and it was still damp from having just washed it—there was reason for the apology.

In fact, servants (including tutors) were not allowed to dress like this on a daily basis. In order to facilitate work and keep their appearance neat, these servants had to put their long hair up and fix it with clips.

Of course, at this time, Randolph didn't care too much about this little thing.

He invited her to sit down and talked to her about Beatrice.

Surprisingly, this Miss Bronte gave her a very…

Not at all...

personality?
No, it should be said that she was extremely cautious.

This is a woman 'wearing a mask'.

"I don't think you are that old, Miss Bronte." Randolph clasped his hands together and placed them on his legs. "What made you willing to be a tutor in the Taylor family? I heard Theresa mention that the family you served before was aristocratic."

Randolph said.

"…situated on a hillside covered with flowers and greenery, you can always enjoy the view of the clear stream running through the valley, and perhaps even have a picnic in the shade of the trees with servants waiting on you."

“It all sounds wonderful to me.”

Bronte showed a typical smile, put her hands together and placed them on her abdomen: "Because of family reasons, my sisters and I came to London. Sir, I have to take care of them."

"I see." Randolph didn't ask any further questions and picked up the wine glass and took a sip.

of course not.

Bronte said to herself.

If that arrogant and rude boy hadn't always tried to stab her arm with a fork; if her mother hadn't always replied indifferently, "He's just a child," every time an "accident" happened; if that one time, those boys and girls hadn't secretly set their bed on fire.

If it weren't for these 'accidents', she would have been happy to please these lawless little bastards in exchange for a few shillings a week.

But the prerequisite is that she has to ensure that she can survive and bring the money back home.

"My sister is a little 'childish,' Miss Bronte."

Randolph couldn't tell what the teacher in front of him was thinking. That face was almost like the red wine in his hand, reflecting only himself.

"A little bit 'childish'. Rather than teaching her foreign languages ​​or noble arts, I just want you to talk to her more often... and it would be even better if you could accept her lively personality."

Bronte replied politely: "I like Miss Beatrice very much, sir, and it would be my honor to be her teacher."

Randolph glanced at her, opened the poetry book, and turned a page.

"I will let Theresa keep an eye on you, Miss Bronte. Although you are of ordinary origin, your actions should be more noble than your origin, right?"

There was a warning in his voice.

Bronte clenched his hands, still smiling, and slowly stood up to say goodbye: "Of course, Mr. Taylor. Then I will go first... Oh, by the way, the author of your poetry collection is Leslie?"

Randolph paused, turned the book over, and glanced at the author.

surprise.

"…You like him too?"

Bronte bowed slightly and stepped back: "No. Because there is evidence that all his works came from his friends - he is a shameful plagiarist."

Randolph: ...

The maid smiled brightly and left the living room.

(End of this chapter)