Chapter 27.
“It seems she has a plan of her own, which I find quite interesting to watch.”
Trisha smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners—a rare sight.
They didn’t cross paths often, and Trisha almost always wore an expressionless or irritable mask. Searching through my memories, this was the first time I had ever seen her look so genuinely amused.
“It seems you have taken a liking to Miss Harriet.”
At those words, Trisha wiped away her smile and assumed a prim, composed look, as if her own display of joy had bruised her pride.
“Not yet. She is still lacking in many ways. After her parents died when she was young, it seems she never received a proper education.”
“Is that so?”
“There is no need to pretend you don’t know. If there is anyone in this circle who hasn’t heard of her, that would be a surprise. I have heard the rumors well enough.”
Trisha spoke, her fingertips tracing the cool-toned hydrangeas.
“But I don’t believe them entirely. As you know, Duke, rumors are naturally prone to sensation. They are distorted along the way, or perhaps they are complete falsehoods.”
“That is true.”
“So, I intend to pour some water on this wilting sapling. If I provide fertilizer at the right time and let it see the sunlight, who knows? It might just bloom into something beautiful.”
“And if it fails to bloom and withers instead? Your efforts would have been in vain.”
Trisha, who had been toying with the petals, tilted her head toward Cedric.
“You haven’t tended to a garden, have you?”
“That is……”
“People who tend to gardens do not feel resentful or angry just because a flower they’ve worked hard to water and fertilize withers. They reflect on what they might have done wrong instead of blaming the flower.”
In other words, the reason a plant withered was almost always the gardener’s fault.
*‘It must have been John who drove Harriet to such a state. And yet, he dotes on his own daughter.’*
I wasn’t arguing that a biological child and a niece should be treated with perfect equivalence, but remembering how well the late Arthur had treated John during his lifetime, no matter how I looked at it, John seemed utterly ungrateful.
The image of Harriet looking back at me while being fitted for a dress lingered in my mind.
“This is the first time I’ve been able to buy clothes I like since my mother passed away.”
Harriet had been smiling, but the lingering sorrow she hadn’t quite moved past still seeped through her expression.
Well, just because the sun had risen didn’t mean the dew deep within the petals would vanish instantly. However, Harriet had chosen to overcome her grief and move forward on her own. She was no weak sapling that would wither away so easily.
“Actually, I may talk like this, but I’ve never dabbled in a business that failed. Harriet will improve significantly from here on out. I have a good eye for these things, believe it or not.”
Trisha’s chin tilted upward, her expression one of absolute confidence. Cedric found her poise oddly pleasing—to the point where he wondered if he should seek out her company more often.
“There must be a reason why the Felon family’s businesses are so successful. If this conversation had been a sales pitch for an investment, I would have put my money in without even realizing it.”
It was meant as a half-joke, but Trisha’s eyes sparkled mischievously.
“Would you like to invest?”
The meaning was ambiguous, so Cedric maintained his smile without answering. Trisha laughed as if she had expected the hesitation.
“I’m joking, just joking. Hahaha!”
Cedric laughed along with her, yet he couldn’t shake the sensation of being strangely caught up in her pace.
* * *
It was a day in late June when the House of Listerwell, having all but forgotten about Harriet, found a reason to recall her name.
Among the stack of letters delivered by the postman was one addressed to Harriet, and the sender was entirely unexpected.
“Huh? The president of the Asceti Bank in Perillas?”
John picked up the letter and tilted his head. Perillas was a region near Genoa; what business could a bank there possibly have with Harriet? He opened the envelope without hesitation.
“Dear Miss Harriet Listerwell.
……The return of the land and estate that your late father entrusted in lieu of bank debt will take place on June 25th. However, as the registered owner, Miss Harriet, you must come in person to sign the certificate of return to finalize the procedure. Please come anytime after the 25th……”
John’s eyes grew as large as saucers.
“What? 165 hectares of land in Perillas? And an estate on top of that?”
He had never heard of this property. That it was returning to Harriet was even more unbelievable!
“What is the meaning of this!”
Fortunately for the bewildered John, the bank president of Asceti had attached a document explaining the details, fearing Harriet might have forgotten the old contract. The original owner of the Perillas land and estate had been a baron named Thomas Belburn. At the mention of that name, a flicker of memory surfaced in John’s mind.
“Thomas Belburn—that man would gamble with his tongue even if both his hands were cut off.”
“He’d use his toes if his tongue were cut off, too.”
*‘Thomas, the gambling maniac! Yes, it must be that man!’*
It seemed he had owed Arthur a massive debt. The document didn’t specify the exact reason, but nine times out of ten, it had to be gambling. Either he had borrowed money from Arthur, or he had lost heavily to him in a game.
*‘I’ve never heard of my brother gambling, so he must have been the one who lent the money.’*
He didn’t know how the connection had been made, but he assumed Thomas had collateralized his own land and estate, convinced there was no chance of losing the money. But could a gambler’s assets ever remain intact?
When the debt matured, there was no contact, and it turned out Thomas had fled in the dead of night with his family. When Arthur went to inspect the collateral, he found tenant farmers and merchants screaming in front of the Belburn estate, unpaid and desperate.
Arthur had been the new landlord standing before those enraged people.
“Sir Arthur Listerwell processed the overdue payments of the Belburn family by taking out a loan from our bank, and signed a contract to entrust the Belburn estate and land to our bank for 10 years, offsetting the loan with the profits generated during that time. (June 25, 1866)
And he designated Miss Harriet Listerwell as the registered owner of this land and estate, with the agreement that it be fully returned to Miss Harriet exactly 10 years later, on June 25, 1876……”
“June 25, 1866?”
That was only three days before Arthur died.
*‘Right! My brother said he’d only been back from a trip for one day when that happened. Was that Perillas?’*
Arthur, who had attended a picnic with his brother’s family immediately upon returning, had become a ghost before he could ever record this in his ledger.
*‘So that’s why I couldn’t have known.’*
John clicked his tongue in annoyance. If he had known while Harriet was still under his roof, getting her to sign over the ownership would have been trivial.
Of course, just because she was gone didn’t mean he had any intention of forfeiting this windfall. Perillas was famous for its fertile soil, and land without a single debt attached was, quite literally, gold.
*‘With this, I can recover from the losses of the Bernard Merchant Ship sinking, and I can invest heavily in the Agental Merchant Ship trade!’*
John considered this a gift from the heavens.
*‘Harriet doesn’t know about this land. I just need to change the ownership and take it for myself.’*
He could draft the transfer papers and forge her signature. Excited, he immediately took out parchment and a pen. He drafted a document stating that since the head of the House of Listerwell had changed, all house assets were under his management, and Harriet Listerwell herself was waiving all property rights.
“……In accordance with the above circumstances…… ownership of the…… corresponding land and estate…… transferred to…… Uncle John Listerwell.”
John smiled with satisfaction. He was about to forge the signature himself, but changed his mind and called for Bella. After explaining the situation, he held out the document.
“If I sign it, the handwriting might be found out. You do Harriet’s signature.”
“Got it. In exchange, I’m buying a pair of earrings tomorrow. That’s okay, right?”
She scribbled the signature onto the document quickly, without giving John a chance to refuse. It felt unpleasant to write Harriet’s name, but it was worth it for the diamond earrings she had been eyeing. John looked disapprovingly at Bella, but he did not refuse.
*‘If I sell the Perillas land, I can get at least 30 million dirhams, no problem. Earrings are nothing.’*
However, it didn’t even take a day for that inflated dream to come crashing down.