After dinner, the hosts went to the greenhouse for tea.

  The decoration of the greenhouse was very luxurious, and the walls were lined with new cloth of lavender with velvet and little yellow flowers.

  The seats vary in size and shape, and can be arranged randomly. There were benches, little armchairs, round piers and stools, a black piano in the window, and tall bookshelves. The guests sat in twos and threes, the women talking in low voices, fanning, and the men talking loudly about politics and whining.

  The butler nodded to me, and I followed him out of the little parlour, where the work was no longer much needed.

  "You did a good job tonight." "Said the butler with satisfaction.

  "You flatter me." I said.

  "Claudius has broken his leg. You will stand in for him in the meantime. If you do well, I'll tell my master to promote you to senior footman. He patted me on the shoulder.

  I was a little surprised. I didn't expect that.

  As the butler walked along, he complained, "I have to find another junior footman to take your place. There are no good footmen in the country, and I have to retrain."

  I followed him down the empty corridor.

  "What do you think of the baron?" He asked me suddenly.

  I looked at the old housekeeper, his wrinkled face slightly embarrassed. "No, I'm not talking about the master. It's just... You know, I'm only curious what you think. After all, the Lord may be the new master of Mormont Hall."

  "Today was the first time we met. I don't know... But did you know him?" I said.

  "Not really." 'Although my family has served the Blues'family for generations,' said the butler, 'this is the first time I've met little Master Oscar. His late father, as you know, had a difficult relationship with our Lord Viscount. If he promised to marry a lady, there would be no problem. I'm only afraid he won't. '

  "You needn't worry too much. The lordship seems a decent gentleman, and he will understand your lordship's difficulties, and there will be no problem." I said.

  "I hope we'll keep our conversation to ourselves tonight." 'said the butler.

  "Yes, Sir." I bent down and bowed to him.

  "Go to bed early. We'll know tomorrow." 'said the butler.

  ...

  The next day, after breakfast with our hosts, Anne whispered to me, "My lady's maid, Eve, tells me that the Lord Baron has refused outright the proposal of marrying a lady, and that he will leave the hall tomorrow. My lady is furious."

  I was silent for a moment and continued to work with my head down. When my masters had finished their breakfast, I sat quietly in the servants' room and waited for it to happen.

  The fireplace burned brightly and sparks crackled.

  The two maids were discussing something in a low voice as they embroidered.

  Thick ice flowers grew on the Windows. It was cloudy outside. It looked as if there would be a heavy snow soon.

  I don't know how long later, the housekeeper Selena hurried in and told the two maids, "Quick! Get the brazier ready!"

  I immediately stood up and asked her, "Is something wrong?"

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The housekeeper looked at me with a pale face, as if she wanted to say something but hesitated. I went to her and whispered, "What's the matter? You look terrible."

  Seeing that the two maids had already left the room, the housekeeper said to me in a panic, "Something is wrong! What are we, what are we going to do!"

  "Why, speak slowly and take it easy!"

  "How can I not be nervous! That man, that man brought that heart disease out of nowhere! He's going to kill us, for God's sake!"

  "You mean the baron who came yesterday?"

  "Who else? He didn't get up this morning. He said he was sick and hot. The doctor came and said he had a fever. But before noon, there were many red bumps on his face, one by one. It was really disgusting. How terrible! Smallpox!"

  "Has the doctor come again? He said smallpox?"

  "When the doctor heard that it might be smallpox, he refused to come back. When the host and guests heard about it, they all hid in their rooms, afraid to go out. My master told me to burn, throw away and bury everything he touched yesterday."

  "Don't throw yourself into a muddle when things are uncertain." I said.

  "What is not certain? One of his two servants has already fallen ill and is feverish, with the same symptoms. If it wasn't smallpox, what was it?" Selena paced back and forth anxiously: "The owner wants me to find someone to take care of him just to make him look good. It's horrible. I should just send him away."

  'Who looks after him now?

  "No one, not even his healthy valet, said he would resign."

  "I'll go."

  'What did you say?

  "I said, I'll take care of him."

  "Are you mad! That could be smallpox. It can kill people! There's no need of you when there are other junior footmen. Let Simon go. ' Selena and I have a very good relationship this life, which is the opposite of the last life, and Simon has to replace me.

  "It's okay. I'll be fine. I don't think it's smallpox."

  I finally convinced Selena.

  Taking the tray, I went alone into the baron's room.

  The light in the room was weak, and they covered the Windows with heavy crimson curtains.

  On a large bed, under dark blue bedding, a man was lying quietly. His face was flushed, he was breathing fast, he had a lot of red rashes on his face, and his sleep seemed very restless.

  I put the tray on the bedside table, and there was cold water in the tray.

  I felt his head. It was boiling hot. My movement woke him up. He looked at me for a moment, frowned and asked, "Who are you? Why are you in my room? Where are my servants?"

  His voice was hoarse and weak, and he looked tired with these words.

  "Your valet is ill, my Lord. I will take care of you in the meantime." With one hand in front of me and one behind me, I bowed.

  The room was very quiet; the wood in the fireplace had long since stopped burning, and it was cold.

  He took a few thick breaths and seemed to shiver. "I feel very cold," he said.

  "I will make the fire now." I went to the fireplace and lit it again. I'm not very good at this job, so the room is very smoky. By the time I came back to the bed, he was asleep again.

  I took out a piece of cotton cloth, dampened it with cold water, folded it neatly, and put it gently over the baron's forehead.

  There was a pier beside the bed, and I sat down, trying not to make a noise.

  The fireplace had warmed up and the room warmed up.

  This afternoon, I sat next to him, replacing the patch on his forehead. Toward evening, when the room grew dark and the light of the fire in the fireplace shone on his face, I watched, lost in thought.

  The man in the bed woke up, struggled to sit up, and then vomited violently. He hadn't eaten anything at all, his stomach was empty, and he was just vomiting up a lot of acid. There's vomit all over the sheets, all over the underwear.

  I helped him change out of his soiled clothes and found new sheets to put on.

  After spitting it out, he looked much better and sat down in a chair and asked me, "What's wrong with me? Why hasn't a doctor come to see me?"

  "There is a heavy snow outside, and it is difficult for the carriage to go." I lied to him.

  "What have I got on my face?" He sat in an armchair in a daze, facing a mirror, in which he touched his face.

  Suddenly, his eyes widened and he gasped. "Tell me what it is! What's wrong with me?! Where are my servants? Where's the doctor! Call a doctor! Call a doctor!"

  The bloodshot look in his wide eyes was terrifying.

  "It's nothing, my Lord. Don't be alarmed."

  He threw back his clothes and looked at his chest, which also had a rash of red spots. His lips trembled in disbelief. "What is this? Smallpox?"

  "No, my Lord."

  "No! Then you tell me what it is! Go get a doctor! Call a doctor!" "He cried, and then coughed violently.

  I patted him on the back, and when he was calm, I said, "The doctor will come, when it gets better outside."

  "Better weather? That's nonsense. They're not coming. They're leaving me to die. Will I die? Will I die?" He took my hand, pale and frightened.

  "No, my Lord. I'll take care of you. You'll be all right."

  He leaned back feebly in his armchair, then looked at me steadily for a moment and suddenly asked me, "What's your name?"

  "Owen, Owen Eric." I said.