The Bitter Taste

Chapter 27: The Return

Time ticked its way from night to dawn very quickly, giving less mercy than it had originally intended towards the lad that had his eyes kept open for the majority of the witching hours. Ever since his unexpected realization, he couldn't sleep, and his chest couldn't stop heaving, which was no surprise because this always happened to him whenever he was stuck at edge.

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A couple of hours later, he received a letter stating a request for his return back to the Barnett's manor, as sent by Mr.Barnett himself - the man whom he had hidden his secret admirations from (he would never admit it but his attitude still remained impressive). It's been two days since his absence in their humble abode, and truth be told, he quite missed it. A lot.

"Quincy! Please contact the Barnett's residence and tell them that I'll be returning shortly after lunch." The Earl called out to one of his maids as he made his way towards the dining table for breakfast.

"Yes, Milord." The young maid bowed and began to briskly walk towards the living room, where the telephone was placed on a flawless, mahogany table.

As the Earl sat down at the sound of his chair's creak, he fell shocked at the unnatural appearance of the breakfast that was served today. He was always used to have thinly sliced beef - fresh from rotisserie, flawlessly poached egg with dainty pints of pepper and salt, warm scoops of smooth, creamy mashed potatoes, along with steamed vegetables to add.

What appeared before him was a bottom-scorched sunny-side up egg that had it's yolk punctured, leaking out as it touched the other contents that filled his plate. It also contained slightly bulky mash at such a heat that was far from aristocratically acceptable, wood-brown toasted bread with orange marmalade at the side, bacon burned to the crisp, and a few boiled pieces of baby carrots.

He took no second to waste. "Quincy! What is this!?"

The rushed maid quickly made her way to the dining table where the Earl was, and soon stood before him with a confused expression. "What is it, Milord?"

"This." He said, clacking the tip of his stainless fork against the plate. "Who made this?"

"Pardon me, milord. I forgot to mention." She said. "Lady Hackett had personally requested the cook that she make you one last meal before she left. I apologize for not telling you in advance."

The Earl looked back at the atrocious sight before him as he blinked a few times.

"Also, milord, someone else answered the telephone and it wasn't Mr.Barnett." She said. "Must I proceed? The person at hand is still on hold."

"Not Mr.Barnett?" He asked. "Who do you speculate the person to be?"

"Well, I heard a young lady's voice." The maid said as she looked up for a brief moment to think, until she widened her eyes at the realization, and nodded to herself at how much she was personally convinced. "I'm quite certain that it was Ms.Hackett's voice, Milord, to think of it again."

"Ms.Hackett?" He asked, furrowing his brows. "I wonder why she answered the receiver instead."

"Would you like it if I continue Milord?" Asked the maid. "Or would you like to answer the telephone instead?"

With soft eyes and a silent sigh, he bit his lips a few times and began to fight against the dominating feeling of anxiety. It has been a long time since that sensation erupted into a full blown volcano, and probably the very first time it has ever burned him to a crisp. After all, it was just last night that he had received the incredibly shocking news regarding the provincial and the viscount. It still affected him.