21.
“I’m separating them precisely because you couldn’t possibly read them all, am I not?”
Usually, he would deliver everything to Trisha, but the volume of mail during the year-end and New Year period was simply too great. Consequently, he filtered the correspondence, passing on letters from known acquaintances to Trisha while personally vetting those from unfamiliar names to spare her time.
As the seasoned butler’s hands flicked through the stack, they came to an abrupt halt at an envelope that lacked any noble seal.
*Harriet Listerwell?*
Could he even call this an unfamiliar name?
While it was the first time a letter had arrived from this individual, Andre—who kept abreast of every social ripple, great and small, for his mistress’s sake—knew the name all too well. Furthermore, Listerwell was the house from which Trisha hailed.
*Should I deliver this, or vet it myself?*
Tapping the letter thoughtfully, Andre hesitated before placing it on the silver tray. Among a sea of embossed New Year’s cards from Trisha’s long-standing associates, that shabby envelope stood out prominently.
“My Lady. These are the letters that arrived today.”
Trisha, seated on the sofa before the fireplace with a newspaper, gave a slight nod.
“Leave them there. I shall read them later.”
The elderly woman’s brown hair, shot through with gray, was swept up, framing a face dominated by sharply arched brows that gave her a fierce expression. Yet, her bright blue eyes betrayed a keen, restless intelligence.
As Trisha prepared to return to the editorial, she caught the subtle lingering of her loyal butler and turned back. Receiving a look that silently questioned the hesitation, Andre bowed his head.
“Most are New Year’s greetings from your friends, but there is one unexpected item. I considered checking the contents first, but I feared it might contain matters I should not be privy to. I decided it was best to bring it directly to you.”
Trisha raised an eyebrow and extended a hand. Andre promptly retrieved Harriet’s letter. Seeing the sender’s name, Trisha’s brow wrinkled in surprise.
“Why on earth is she writing to me… Ah, by any chance?”
She tore the envelope open and unfolded the stationery. The paper was of poor quality, but the handwriting was neat and elegant.
「To my dear Great-Aunt Trisha,
I pray that good fortune will always be with you in the new year. Are you keeping well and healthy?
I worry that you might be surprised by this sudden letter.
I am Harriet Listerwell, the daughter of Arthur Listerwell. Do you happen to remember? We met 13 years ago when I went to the villa in Wellhab with my parents.」
One corner of Trisha’s mouth curled upward.
“Remember, indeed. You should have given me time to forget, my great-niece.”
Rumors regarding the “Scandal Maker” of the House of Listerwell echoed everywhere. Ever since Arthur’s death, her interactions with that branch of the family had been non-existent. While she had remained silent, she had long harbored a belief that the blame lay with John, who failed to protect Harriet.
Once her thoughts followed that path, the purpose of the letter became transparent.
And sure enough, the main point followed shortly after.
“Asking me to be her guardian…?”
“Pardon? A guardian?” Andre asked from his place nearby, clearly surprised. It seemed he, too, had parsed the letter’s intent.
Trisha gave a dry laugh.
“Arthur’s daughter is unexpectedly bold.”
“Is it not a well-known rumor that she is not just unexpected, but indeed bold?”
“Well. I happen to be someone who thinks those rumors are quite inflated.”
She understood well how gossip regarding love affairs and scandals was provocatively recycled. *I’m sure she was a fine target to chew over together,* she mused. And John Listerwell, while technically Harriet’s guardian, had offered no protection at all.
If there is a child who makes a mistake while craving affection, and an adult who fails to guide and protect them, who is truly to blame?
*And the child who was socially buried because of that adult seems to be plotting something now.*
The letter, which made an unreasonable request without a hint of servility, piqued Trisha’s curiosity.
“This is interesting.”
The corners of Trisha’s eyes crinkled as she finished. It seemed something amusing was about to disrupt the monotony of her life.
* * *
The news of Daphne Laurel’s engagement being called off was the first story to ignite the social circle in the new year. It was, after all, the affair of none other than Daphne Laurel, counted among the greatest beauties of the season.
“The two of them—hadn’t their engagement lasted quite a long time?”
“Five years, I believe? I heard they were to be married this year. How did it end up like this? Tsk, tsk…”
“Why on earth did they break it off? Their circumstances seemed like a perfect match.”
“Indeed.”
The rumors grew, feeding on speculation and raw curiosity—regardless of the pain it caused those involved.
“Sob, hie… hieeee…”
“Daphne. You’ll collapse at this rate, dear? You must eat something.”
Countess Laurel was coaxing her daughter, who had been sobbing incessantly for days. Daphne merely shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
Having raised a precious daughter, one coveted by many families as a future daughter-in-law, only for her to have her engagement shattered without explanation—what parent’s heart could remain sound?
Count Laurel, pacing the room while shooting anxious glances at his daughter, finally burst out in rage.
“Damn that brat! To call off the engagement now—what is our Daphne to do!”
The one who suffered the brunt of a broken engagement before the wedding was always the woman’s side. A past of having ‘belonged to another’ was viewed as a ‘flaw,’ often forcing a woman to accept a match far inferior to the first.
“My life is over. I won’t be able to go outside anymore. Everyone will whisper behind my back…”
She had refused to eat for days, drowning in regret. *When I had that strange feeling, I should have confronted him. No, I should have called for James the very next day after Melody came…*
Wasn’t the root of this disaster her own hesitation, her cowardice in fearing the truth? She had believed there must be a misunderstanding, waiting patiently at his request for “time.” She had trusted that he would return with an apology, saying, ‘I’m sorry for making you doubt.’
Instead, all that arrived was a cold, formal Notice of Broken Engagement.
*How could you do this? It wasn’t just between us—our houses were tied to this…*
Because of the split, the relationship between the House of Laurel and the House of Count Cheslow, once solid partners in the railway construction business, had severely soured. James’s father, Count Cheslow, appeared apologetic, but he had been unable to sway his son, and Count Laurel was running wild, claiming a breach of sacred trust.
Daphne felt deathly sorry to her father, who had become an object of ridicule on her account.
*Please come back, James. If you apologize and say it was a momentary mistake, I will accept it. Please.*
Daphne wrote yet another tear-stained letter today. There had been no reply to the five letters she had already sent, but she clung to the hope that he was struggling with his own conscience.
However, a few days later, an event occurred that extinguished even that small hope.
“Oh my, heaven! Look there, isn’t that the young master of Cheslow and the young lady of Listerwell?”
“Oh, my, my! It is! So it was Bella Listerwell who pushed Daphne Laurel out?”
“I’d heard rumors they were seen together, but it seems they were true!”
At the New Year’s party held at the House of Count Cheslow, James had arrived with Bella on his arm.
Most were puzzled by James’s choice. Even if Bella possessed beauty, Daphne was also a refined lady, and the House of Listerwell could hardly compare to the House of Laurel in status. Yet, it was impossible to ignore that James looked absolutely head over heels for Bella.
“Count Cheslow must have lost to his son. Well, there are no parents who can win against their children.”
“The opponent is Bella Listerwell, after all. Perhaps she is worth the trade. I bet there isn’t just one man jealous while watching young Master James.”
“Still, it’s a bit much to show up with her right after breaking off the engagement. What does that make the young lady of Laurel?”
While some understood James, others pitied Daphne. Yet, everyone found Bella to be the true enigma. Even if James had courted her passionately, the act of accepting another woman’s fiancé didn’t fit with her angelic image.
*Heh, fools.*
Bella smiled sweetly at Daphne’s friends, who watched her with icy, hateful stares. Their faces hardened, but to Bella, it was merely an interesting sight.
“Daphne sent another letter. I didn’t know she was such an obsessive woman.”
Even yesterday, James had shown Bella the letter from Daphne with a tone of utter weariness.