While it was true that Patrick sent a note to the Cornells saying he would be at their house at nine o'clock in the morning, there was no sign of him until after eleven. In the kitchen, the servants were desperate for the young man to appear, otherwise the visit would join them at lunchtime. And it's not that they would have to make a superhuman effort to add one more plate to the table, it's that Mrs. Cornell became twice as strict when a guest stayed for lunch without warning.

Of course, the girls chose to believe the reason for his delay was that the man was busy with his business, that time was upon him. Oscar, on the other hand, knew the truth.

His friend, the postman, had told him. The previous evening Patrick had been seen leaving a tavern with some friends, half staggering and even vomiting in the ditch. This was at a time when most stores would have been closed for hours, so Oscar deduced that this charismatic protagonist would have bought the owner to let him stay a while longer. Then, having arrived at Lilac Hall at two or three in the morning, he would have flung himself onto his bed. And then, not even his own mother would have been able to lift him out of there because of the impending hangover.

Oscar knew this very well, because his original character had been serving the protagonist when he began to hang out with Madeleine. Patrick was that type of people: Irresponsible and liar. Although of course, to discover that character you had to know him a lot, because what he showed the world was a perfect facade. Hence, there were dozens of girls who tried to win his favor and few fathers who opposed the courtship.

Madeleine had asked Oscar for advice several times during the last few days on how she could go about winning over Patrick. But Oscar had said little to her, claiming it was still too early to know how to proceed. In the first place, to know well the tastes of the aforementioned, he had to enter his mansion as another servant. Although it was a lie that he did not know Patrick's tastes, he believed that justifying himself in this way would make Madeleine let him operate with ease.

But he was just underestimating her patience.

That same day, four hours before Patrick knocked on Rose Cottage's door, Madeleine had called Oscar to the second floor of the mansion. Something strange, because up there were the rooms of both the masters and the young ladies and, it was obvious, a stable boy could not be there. If Mrs. Cornell found out he was walking around, he could say goodbye to his job before even dreaming of acquiring another! This is why Oscar wanted to refuse to comply, but Mallory -who was the maid in charge of transmitting the order- insisted.

Madeleine would be angry if he rejected her and, especially on that day when her future would be decided, it was not to his best interest to turn her against him.

Oscar took precautions, yes, until he verified that Mrs. Cornell had been in the kitchen since dawn, harassing the service to prepare something worthy for such an honorable guest, and that Mr. Cornell —whom they removed from bed long before his usual time— was still sitting on his couch, newspaper in hand and snoring, he didn't want to venture upstairs.

Once he had entered the wing in which the rooms of the four sisters were located, he made sure his footsteps were not heard and glanced toward the lower edge of each of the doors. There was no noise emanating from behind them, but through that small gap of just one centimeter that separated the floor from the wood, some light could be glimpsed. At least it could be seen through three of the four doors.

These women were incredible, they had woken up long before their usual time to clean up! Oscar thought, too, that he wouldn't waste hours of sleep getting ready for someone who could provide him with thousands of pounds a year. No. He would come up with a plan to steal their money instead.

Of course, it is not that Oscar had the tricks of a criminal; it just seemed like a more attractive plan to him. For if he had to choose between appearance or intelligence, he had always preferred to trust the latter.

So, not expecting anything he might find, he called Madeleine's room, making sure that the tapping against the brown surface didn't echo through the hall. He thought he should insist, for in truth nothing was heard, but the door opened anyway and Madeleine, who was hanging on the doorknob and was half hidden behind the door, urged him to enter.

Oscar sighed and did what was asked of him. He didn't want to be in there, but it wasn't a good idea to just talk in the hallway.

"Now what happens?" He asked as he entered, while the other closed the door behind him. “I suppose you should know this by now, but it's highly inappropriate for me to be here. If you need anything from me, you'd better meet me downstairs… ”Oscar stopped in mid-sentence, just as he took a look at where Madeleine was. “And put on some fucking clothes!”

Madeleine looked down at her clothes, as if she didn't understand what was going on. It seemed that being in petticoats before a man who was neither her brother nor her lover was a small matter to her, but Oscar was feeling very uncomfortable. Even if he came from the 21st century and was used to seeing people with less clothing, he was now in another era. And this time he really would die if any of the Cornells caught him coming out of that room!

"I'll leave," he said, turning around, "like I said, if you need something I'll be downstairs"

“No wait! Can't you see that's why I've called you? I need you to help me with this” Saying this, she pointed towards her bed, for at least a dozen dresses were arranged on it. “Which one do you think I should wear to impress Patrick?”

“Anything”

"No, no, I need you to choose one," she replied annoyed, perhaps believing that Oscar had given such a vague answer because he was embarrassed to see how beautiful she was in her underwear and wanted to end it as soon as possible. “I could ask my sisters, but now that we've become rivals, they wouldn't want to help me”

Madeleine had been right about the fact that Oscar wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible, but she was wrong about the other. Although it was true that she looked pleasant to the eye, no matter what she was wearing, Oscar ignored the matter because he no longer felt compelled to make her hunt the protagonist. He wouldn't go so far as to take something Patrick hated, but he also didn't intend to choose what he thought would be best to attract his attention.

"So," he began again, pretending to think about it, "try the green one."

"Yes, I also think that's not one of the ugliest I have. Besides, it's only been two years since father bought it for me… Ah, don't go yet, wait. I still have to choose my shoes and hairstyle”

"Your shoes won't show if you wear that dress, and when it comes to your hairstyle, don't do anything extravagant or you'll scare it off"

That was honest advice, although Oscar knew very well that Patrick cared little what his picks were wearing. The priority was they looked good when accompanied him to social events and that their clothes were not too complicated to undress.

Madeleine was not entirely satisfied with the service, but this was better than nothing. Neither Eleonore nor Beverley could count on the invaluable assistance of a man in this endeavor. Poor Theresa wouldn't even try. And if Oscar liked something, surely Patrick would be the same. After all, Mrs. Cornell was always saying that all men were the same, so Madeleine shared that way of thinking too.

But coming back at eleven o'clock in the morning, Oscar had been cleaning the stables until he saw the Seymour carriage appear.

As planned, Patrick was the only one in his household to appear along with a couple of servants. Oscar did not attend to him in person, as he preferred to wait until he finished his visit with the Cornells before bringing up the subject of his job search. He still had to make some preparations and, he thought, when Patrick returned from the mansion he would be in a bad mood. Therefore, it would be his duty to make the day better for him and thus get the job interview he longed for.

On the other hand, and knowing the rumors about the previous evening, Oscar was not at all surprised to notice the dark circles and the face of wanting to die on the part of the male protagonist when he left the carriage. He must have had a rough night.

In any case, he could only hope.

Oscar no longer entered the part of the building where the gentlemen gathered, thinking he would do more harm than good if Madeleine saw him and treated him with the customary familiarity in front of the visitor. The gardens, on the other hand, could be a strategic point in the whole shed. Because when Patrick wanted to go back to Lilac Hall, he should stop by. But Oscar waited in vain: he performed all his usual tasks outside, but there was still no sign of Patrick.

It wasn't until he walked into the kitchen and saw the maids busy with the dishes, that he understood. The Cornells had managed to cajole him into staying for lunch! Now the plan could not fail.

"Why are you smiling in such a sinister way?" Mallory asked, walking past him. “Stop it. You're scary”

"For your information," he said, wiping the smile off his face, "the fact that Patrick Seymour decides to stay in these parts benefits us all. I don't see why I shouldn't be happy”

"Ah, he's already talking like the ladies! Are you also after his one hundred and ten thousand pounds a year? ”

"But does he have them?"

Mallory shrugged and continued to pour the soup Sowards had made from a platter. The truth is that the position Patrick held had been obtained thanks to his father. Without this, the protagonist would never have managed to raise such a sum at such an early age.

"So they say," she pointed out.

"I just hope that the pounds he has are used wisely," said another of the maids. “They say he is an avid player of bridge, poker and any card game that he allows making bets”

"As long as he wins with that…" Mallory began.

"And as long as his father is there to put up for the money every time he loses…" Oscar finished.

"Fortunately he has money and good looks! But I don't know what he could be from this family”

"Speaking of appearance," Oscar thought this was his opportunity to ask, because except for now, the maid who spoke had been with her mistress all morning and, therefore, with the visitor, "how is he feeling? I mean, Mr. Seymour? This morning when he arrived, we almost had to hold him down so he wouldn't fall off getting out of the car”

“Seriously? He seemed fine to me”

This puzzled Oscar. Could it be that she was also looking at the guy with the same eyes as the teenagers? No, it couldn't be. She wasn't after the rich, so her appraisal must be correct.

Anyway, Oscar did not lower his guard. After eating with the rest of the service, he returned to the gardens. And there he waited another two or three hours, until the gentleman with the shifting pounds -for it was a fact that whenever they talked about his wealth his bank account seemed to grow- deigned to show up.

To say, as the maid claimed, that he was fine was not enough. The individual did not seem the same person as in the morning, as he was seen in a good mood, smiling. He no longer stumbled every other step or looked vacant, as if he were at Rose Cottage out of obligation. Oscar didn't understand what had happened in the living room with the Cornells, but he didn't care either. If the protagonist was in a good mood, he would be even easier to convince.

So Oscar waited next to the carriage that would take him to Lilac Hall, and when Patrick finally caught up with him, he took the opportunity to introduce himself. In his current position, he did not have much to offer, but also nothing to lose.

"You sound familiar, have I seen you somewhere before?" Patrick had asked after identifying himself.

"It was at the Summerfield ball, a few weeks ago."

“How? Were the Cornells at that dance?”

Oscar wanted to punch this dense human being, but he kept still and quiet. The guy didn't remember Beverley when she spent most of the afternoon hanging on his arm, how was he going to remember a simple servant?

"Well, it doesn't matter," Patrick went on; Apparently he suffered this type of memory lapses quite often, so much so that they no longer bothered him. "What did you want?"

“This is a somewhat selfish request on my part, but knowing you have settled in Lilac Hall and that you will likely need to hire more servants to keep such a well-kept property, it occurred to me that I might offer myself for a job there...”

"Don't they pay you well here?"

"It's not that, Mr. Cornell has been quite generous to me, allowing me to live on his property since I was little, long before I could be of use to him. Also, he has employed my uncles for many years. However, now that hard times are coming for everyone, I'd like to make it up to you for all of this” Noting that Patrick was unaware of Cornell's financial woes and therefore he was not understanding, he added. “Mr. Cornell, right now, is not in need of service. He could do without a few of us as soon as he was asked, but he doesn't. Perhaps this is because he, with his usual benevolence, feels terrible at the thought he should fire people he has kept under his roof for so many years. So to ease his burden, I believed I should find another job as soon as possible”

"And you couldn't think of a better place to try than my prized home."

"I apologize for my total lack of manners," Oscar was quick to say, "I've already tried in town, but the salaries they offer me are double or triple lower than what Mr. Cornell offered me. I would have accepted, but if I leave Rose Cottage I will also need a place to stay. And with such a low salary, I fear that all the money would go to find an inn”

This was a deliberate lie that Oscar said with confidence. Patrick was one of those people who did not care about the affairs of his inferiors, so he did not listen to it. Oscar could lie all he wanted about a bogus job search or abusive pay, which Patrick would not delve into further.

"What do you want to do at Lilac Hall, then?" He asked, as Oscar had planned, ignoring asking for details. “Take care of the stables and the garden, like here?”

"I am fine with whatever position I am given."

"Good to hear that. In that case, next Monday at ten o'clock you will have to show up at my house: if you want a position, you will be granted it”, said the protagonist, without stopping for three seconds to think about it. “Let your employers know or whatever, if you need it, I'll write them about this myself. On Monday we will specify the conditions of your stay at Lilac Hall, but get used to the idea that the job is yours”

With that said, he got into his carriage and left, not commenting anything more about what the job would consist of, not even talking about Oscar's abilities, much less expressing any doubts out loud.

Oscar stood there for a long time, in the middle of the road, wondering what the fuck had just happened. He had one ace or two up his sleeve to convince Patrick to give him a chance and give him a job interview. He didn't expect at all that the guy was going to trash protocol and secure him a spot after just five minutes of talking. Ultimately, he didn't understand what happened, but suspected it had something to do with the sudden change in mood after entering Rose Cottage.

This must be a trap, for sure! And he should be prepared to be asked the following week for something difficult to fulfill.