I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The Ashford family mansion was larger and heavier than the image Richard pieced together from his memory.

The four-story stone building faces west, and the stone is limestone, a common material in the capital city.

The front door was a double dark oak door, with the Ashford family crest—an oak tree and a standing lion—carved on the lintel, exactly the same as on the letter.

Two gatekeepers stood on either side of the gate, staring straight ahead without moving, no different from two dressed gateposts.

Three horse-drawn carriages were parked against the wall in the courtyard, along with an old-fashioned sedan.

The sedan was even more impressive than Gray's Alvis, with a deep black body accented with gold lines, silver-plated door handles, and gleaming brass headlights.

Richard quickly memorized the environmental information.

This is an upper-class family that maintains a respectable size. It may not be as prestigious as those top aristocratic families that have marriage alliances with royalty, but its accumulated resources and connections are certainly substantial.

After the father paid the fare, the driver flicked the reins, and the carriage clattered away on the gravel road.

A family of four stood in front of Ashford mansion.

The moment she stepped onto the stairs, her mother's expression changed.

The changes were subtle, but Richard noticed them all.

She switched from the relaxed state she was in with her family to a completely different persona.

This is a mask that we've been taught to wear since childhood; once you enter this door, you have to wear it properly.

The father followed silently behind, his right hand taking out of his pocket and putting it back in, his thumb rubbing against the seam of his trousers.

At the factory in Briston, he was a respected Rogers Williams engineer.

Here, he is simply "the man Margaret married".

Evelyn stayed close to her brother, clutching his clothes: "I don't like it here."

"Me neither."

The doorman opened the oak door.

A butler in a black tuxedo walked out from the side hall.

"Miss Margaret, the master is waiting in the living room." The butler stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

The family of four walked through a long corridor lined with portraits of Ashford family members from different generations.

The people in the painting are dressed in clothing from different periods, from old-fashioned nobles wearing wigs and high heels to modern faces wearing suits and carrying canes, one generation after another.

An elderly man sat in the main seat directly opposite the main seat in the living room.

He was very thin, and even when he was sitting, his spine was like a calibrated plumb line, stretching from the top of his head all the way to his tailbone, without bending at all.

"Margaret."

"Father." Mother bowed slightly.

The old man looked her up and down and said, "You don't look well."

"The weather in the north is quite cold, and my old ailment has flared up again."

"Um."

His attitudes toward this family of four were extremely different.

He would show some care for his daughter Margaret, after all, they were blood relatives, but that was all.

In his eyes, his son-in-law was no different from roadside weeds.

His gaze slid directly past Rogers and landed on his granddaughter.

"Good afternoon, Grandfather." The little girl's voice was clear and her appearance was endearing.

"Evelyn has grown quite a bit." The old man's expression softened.

Richard also bowed slightly: "Grandfather."

Gerrard didn't speak, his gaze fixed on his grandson.

The mint would flick a new coin between his fingertips, listen to the sound, and weigh it to determine how much copper and silver it contained.

When the other person looked at him, Richard's first thought was that he was being weighed in this way.

The ether emanating from the old man was extremely restrained, gathered up neatly, with edges as clean as pages cut by a paper cutter.

But just as that ether gently touched him, he felt as if he were standing directly below the spillway of a dam.

The warmth trembled violently in my chest, and my lungs felt as if an invisible hand was simultaneously gripping them from both sides, causing my diaphragm to spasm uncontrollably.

But the oppressive feeling came and went so quickly that he didn't even have time to react defensively.

The old man's gaze had already shifted away from him, within two seconds.

Behind him, the father was quietly confirming the luggage storage with the butler.

The mother turned to straighten the crooked bow on Evelyn's shoulder, and no one noticed what he went through in those two seconds.

"Please sit down."

Gerrard raised his hand to indicate the direction of the sofa.

After confirming the test results, his gaze became more serious.

The butler stood by the door and saw everything.

He served at Ashford House for thirty years and was more adept at reading his master's expressions than at reading books.

The master would treat anyone he considered a weed as if they were invisible, showing them the proper courtesy without exception, but never offering them any extra favors.

When the master sees who is a bonsai, he smiles, pours a cup of tea, and makes a grand entrance.

When the old man looked at someone, he leaned back in his chair...

The butler silently moved the name "Young Master Richard" from the end of the list to a much higher position in his mind.

Evelyn didn't notice anything; she just felt that everyone had been standing there for too long.

Her maternal grandfather's living room was quite large, with many sofas; all she wanted to do was find a place to take off her shoes.

Gerald looked at his granddaughter's anxious expression and seemed to remember something.

He pulled out a rectangular gift box from the side, which was printed with the logo of the famous pastry shop "Valentine".

This thing has been there for who knows how long, maybe it was prepared from the beginning.

"Evelyn." The old man handed over the box.

The girl was engrossed in studying her toes when her name was suddenly called, and she jumped.

"Ah? Oh, Grandfather." She looked up.

When she saw the box handed to her, she reached out her hand but then stopped.

Evelyn glanced at her mother.

Margaret nodded.

"Thank you, Grandfather!" Evelyn accepted the gift box, her smile genuine and without a trace of guile.

She had a general idea of ​​the price of the box of chocolates from her female companions.

Valentine's gift sets start at at least five shillings.

This box features satin fabric and gold-stamped buckles, so the price will only be higher.

The old man nodded and instructed the butler beside him, "Arrange guest rooms."

The butler bowed slightly and turned to the family of four:

"Please follow me to your rooms to rest for a while. The banquet will begin at 6:30."

When he turned to lead the way, his pace slowed down by half a beat compared to when he greeted us at the main gate, and he would make a noticeable bowing gesture at the corner of the corridor.

Even Evelyn noticed it, but from a slightly different angle:

"Brother, he didn't seem to be walking this slowly when he was walking at the door just now."

"Maybe his knees aren't good," Richard casually replied.

"Then why did it suddenly become so bad?"

"I'm getting old, so my condition is sometimes good and sometimes bad."

Evelyn was skeptical but didn't press for details, her attention completely drawn to the box of chocolates in her arms.