Chapter 67: Younger Brother?

"Does an irregular supply of cigars count?"
Roland made a joke.
Randolph had indeed spoken to him about 'sponsorship'—namely, paying Roland a certain number of gold pounds every week.
And what he had to do in return was not much: call upon them from time to time, using the pretext of visiting Randolph to expand his influence, when his actual purpose was simply to visit Beatrice.
Beyond that, he would need to show Beatrice extra consideration at other social gatherings.
Roland agreed, but declined the 'sponsorship'.
Certain favors could stem from friendship, but once money was accepted, they turned into shackles.
"When I used to sew gloves for people, I only made five or six pence a week," Roland told Cherry without concealment about his past. "Clearly, the Tribunal's weekly salary of one pound is quite enough for me."
"Even far more than enough."
Cherry Chloe rolled her eyes with vivid expressiveness.
Keeping out of earshot from others.
"Money is never enough, my dear."
"Never enough."
She fluttered her fan, pushing it slightly upward.
Several gentlemen who had been observing their direction and preparing to approach halted, changed their minds, and struck up conversations with others instead.
"However, you were smart not to take the money."
She seemed quite pleased with Roland's course of action.
In her view, the further one stayed from the Taylor family, the better, of course.
"I have some connections at the Arts Association."
Cherry lowered her chin and spoke in a low voice, "The Elite Arts Association—you probably haven't heard of it. Roland, you need to save up a bit of money. When the time comes, I'll help you 'manage' a novel or a poem, and then find a way to make a splash at the theater."
"With money and prestige, you'll be able to 'manage' more novels and poems all on your own. Of course, I see you have the talent for it too; if your luck holds and things go smoothly enough, perhaps you might even secure a medal of honor..."
"Would you like a private carriage with gold-plated insignia and silent axles?"
"Would you like to live on this side of the city?"
Cherry Chloe spoke with such fluency, as though she had rehearsed these matters countless times in private.
"...Once you have status," she hinted, gesturing toward the elegant and beautiful women Roland had just greeted, "those people will truly greet you, rather than just using the moment they greet me as an excuse to merely glance your way."
She turned her hand over, admiring her painted fingernails. "Lovers don't really matter. But Roland, do you seriously wish to take the daughter of an egg-vendor as your wife? An executive's future... do you genuinely believe you can reach the position of Grand Inquisitor?"
Naturally, Enid was merely another link in Cherry Chloe's chain of contempt.
"...Even if you do become Grand Inquisitor, at best it will only mean more people bowing to you," she said. "When have you ever seen her invited to a reception? What status does she possess? Who truly respects her?"

It appeared Cherry Chloe had not abandoned the idea of getting Roland to leave the Tribunal one bit.
"Of course, that wouldn't be glamorous; it's dangerous and down-and-out. Aside from parlor tricks, what is there to like about it?" She narrowed her eyes and leaned slightly forward. The scent drifting into Roland's nose hinted at a subtle temptation:
"Some women know 'parlor tricks' too. And I assure you, they are infinitely more interesting and far more comfortable than anything you've ever seen."
[I have a feeling she's uttering vulgarities unbecoming of her status and the occasion.]
Roland suppressed a smile, feigning incomprehension.
Cherry cast a sidelong glance at him and gave a light huff. "Stop playing the innocent, 'Mr.' Collins. Men are all the same; once they reach a certain age, they understand women instinctively. Even a boy locked away in a cell all his life who has never seen the world, the moment he turns fourteen, the very first thought he has when looking at a woman is... well, I suppose you've never ridden a horse, have you?"
[She exaggerated the age.]
—Get over yourself.
Perhaps sensing that she had spoken a bit too explicitly, the woman gave a contrived cough and abruptly shifted to a very serious tone: "Roland Collins, do you trust me?"
"I will not harm you."
The cheerful atmosphere suddenly grew somewhat stagnant.
Roland paused for a moment, tracing his fingers over his walking stick, and murmured thoughtfully, "Mrs. Cherry Chloe..."
The woman corrected him: "Cherry."
"Very well, Madam Cherry."
"Cherry."
"Cherry, Cherry, very well then,"
Her persistent insistence seemed to make her appear several years younger.
Roland did not keep her waiting long, responding sincerely: "Of course I trust you. Frankly speaking, am I not here entirely because of you?"
"I am utterly ignorant of how this world operates, nor am I sharp enough. What you have given me is not merely an opportunity to step into this circle, but an unprecedented kind of knowledge—one that cannot be attained without crossing that threshold."
Roland stood smiling, his gentle gaze seeming to pierce through Cherry Chloe's eyes amidst the lamplight, as if he could genuinely see the world at that moment.
"What reason could you possibly have to bestow 'high knowledge' upon a lowly person? Surely, if you merely wished for earthly pleasures, you needn't lift your skirts, walk barefoot into the mud under the sun, and step right into the mire before so many people yourself."
Roland's remark was hardly suited for the occasion.
His implication was that if she harbored the sort of unmentionable romantic cravings others possessed, she could easily rent a flat on a long-term lease and invite him for secret trysts—
Instead of forcibly dragging an illiterate, blind, impoverished wretch living in the East End and fostered by his uncle—someone perhaps riddled with illness—into high-society circles entirely unsuited to his station.
Not only would this fail to elicit gratitude, but it would also drag down the precious, meticulously maintained garments of reputation that Cherry Chloe had spent years weaving for herself.
Without a doubt.
For someone well-versed in the rules of the game, and for a woman whose husband was a nobleman and who equally understood those rules...
This was the most foolish, most erroneous course of action.

Roland was indeed puzzled by this.
What was being paid, how was it being paid, and in what manner?
Even an innocent person could hardly survive well in a poorhouse.
Clearly, what Cherry Chloe had expended and what she could possibly harvest were completely mismatched.
She was tarnishing her own reputation; what return could she possibly hope to gain by helping Roland?
"I shouldn't have spoken like that, should I?"
Roland added.
Cherry looked at the composed and poised young man before her, and with a feigned flash of annoyance, turned and led him toward a quieter spot.
Once they reached a secluded corner, she folded her fan and tapped Roland lightly on the shoulder.
"Too blunt! Roland! Aside from whispering in a woman's bed, you must never be so straightforward anywhere else!"
She rolled her eyes, but recalling his earnest and imposing demeanor just moments before, she felt a slight urge to smile. "...If my brother were still alive, he would be just about your age."
She suddenly lowered her gaze, looking sad and serene.
"When I was little,"
"My brother used to steal my jewelry to sell for money, you know? Roland, you just acted exactly like my little brother..."
Hiding his sister's jewelry box.
How...
Familiar.
Why could the only person who had ever been truly good to him not stay alive?
"A younger brother..." Roland chewed on the word, unsure whether he ought to press further.
While he still hesitated, Cherry spoke as if talking to herself.
"He fell down the stairs, was unconscious for three days, and never woke up."
Cherry sighed, making a motion to stroke Roland's head, but taking in their surroundings, she thought better of it and instead nudged his shoulder with the tip of her fan.
"You are not allowed to speak to ladies like that in the future, understand?"
Roland smiled in assent and asked again, "So, the way you treat me is purely because of your brother..."
"Yes, yes, simply because you resemble my younger brother, Roland Collins. That is why I am exceptionally kind to you. Why do you always act as cautious as an animal hiding in the grass, terrified of being hurt by others?"
Cherry blinked, as if seeing right through Roland's current thoughts. "A woman's love and hatred usually happen in the span of a single heartbeat. You still have a great deal to learn, little boy."