28.
“What are you talking about? Why are you refusing this?”
John had rushed straight to Perillas that day, managing to catch the bank manager just before the doors closed. But the relief was short-lived; the manager of Asceti Bank flatly refused to accept the title transfer document.
“To change the title, we must first verify the land restitution. Unless the owner has passed away, the person signing the restitution confirmation must appear in person. It was clearly stated in the letter as well.”
“Look here! Is it really necessary to be so rigid about the order? The owner herself has signed this transfer. Can’t you show a little flexibility?”
The manager shook his head.
“I apologize. In cases involving land acquisition or title changes, the scale of property dictates that the individual must appear in person.”
“I am telling you, Harriet is not in a position to come here!”
“We will wait indefinitely. In the meantime, the profits from the land will be held, with not a single sant spent. I kindly ask that Harriet Listerwell visit in person to sign the confirmation.”
Facing the manager’s stone wall of a response, John was forced to leave empty-handed.
Consumed by rage, he immediately drove his carriage toward St. Clarissa’s Convent. Since Perillas lay along the route, he arrived just before sunset.
Pressed for time, he pounded on the convent gates with his bare hands.
A moment later, a small window clicked open, and a nun with sharp eyes peered out. “Who is it?”
“I am Viscount Listerwell. I’ve come to see a child who resides here.”
“This is a cloister for women only. Visits are permitted strictly between 11:00 AM and 5:00 PM, by appointment only. Please return tomorrow.”
John grabbed the shutter just as it began to close.
“Get the Mother Superior out here right now! Who are you, some lowly commoner, to be so insolent!”
Under normal circumstances, he would never have discarded his gentlemanly mask, but after a grueling day and a string of failures, his irritation had peaked.
Sister Emma, on guard duty, felt a surge of indignation.
If this was Viscount Listerwell, he was the very man who had unilaterally severed guardianship after dumping Harriet here. What did he want with her now?
“The rules of the convent remain unchanged. Please leave.”
John cursed and began to kick the gate. The commotion was promptly reported to Mother Catherine, who rushed over, her face dark with displeasure.
She pushed a fuming Emma aside and pulled the gate open.
“Look here! What do you mean it won’t work?”
Catherine glared coldly at the triumphant John and spoke in a booming voice.
“I am the Mother Superior, Catherine Emillosa. What is the meaning of this disturbance at this hour?”
Faced with Catherine, who stood tall and scolded him with a ringing authority that lacked the slightest tremor of fear, John immediately tucked his tail.
Even in a small, remote convent, the Mother Superior held significant sway in the religious world, and Catherine did not strike him as a woman who would endure such insolence.
“Ah, Mother Superior. My apologies. That nun was so inflexible that I lost my temper. I have an urgent matter to discuss.”
“You are a man who should know that it is rude to visit at this hour without a request. Just how urgent is this business?”
“It is a private family matter; I cannot explain the details. But it is grave, and I must take Harriet with me.”
The fact that a man who intended to drag Harriet away had stormed the gate without notice earned him no sympathy.
Seeing his boorish behavior firsthand, Catherine realized that everything Harriet had told her about life at the House of Listerwell was undeniably true.
A small, dry laugh escaped her.
“Why are you looking for Harriet here?”
“What do you mean, why? Because she is here, obviously.”
“What are you talking about? Harriet returned to Genoa a long time ago.”
“What?”
John’s eyes went wide. He repeated the question, his voice cracking.
Catherine smirked, feeling a sudden sense of triumph.
“Harriet Listerwell finished her year of convent life as requested and departed on June 1st. Ah! You cut off your guardianship, so perhaps you were unaware. The obligation to report to the Viscount has ended, after all.”
“T-that…! Then, where did she go?”
“I only heard she was headed for Genoa. I believe you would know more about the situation in Genoa than I would, Viscount.”
John’s fists trembled at his sides.
He had never imagined that Harriet, stripped of her guardianship, would actually leave the convent. She had no money—what could she possibly have relied on?
A cold, ominous feeling crept up his spine.
“Your business here is concluded. Please leave without causing any further disturbance. I will not tolerate any more of this.”
John was forced to turn away, his back burning under Catherine’s hostile glare.
*This is a nuisance. If I hire men, I’ll find her soon enough, but that costs money. Tsk.*
He clicked his tongue and climbed into the carriage.
However, he would never have the chance to spend that money. He would find Harriet long before he ever needed to send out a search party.
* * *
A deep green silk dress, an emerald necklace draped over her collarbone, and ornate, dangling chandelier earrings.
Harriet took a breath and tried to estimate the value of her appearance. Even Bella likely didn’t own more than a few pieces of this caliber.
“Are you prepared, Harriet?”
Trisha asked before they stepped out of the carriage.
In truth, her heart was hammering against her ribs so violently she felt she might collapse, but Harriet swallowed hard and nodded.
She had started down a path with no retreat; she could not afford to show weakness now.
“Then let’s go.”
Harriet followed Trisha out.
As the carriage door opened, the night air rushed in, significantly cooler than the day. The scent of flowers and grass hung in the heavy summer air, accompanied by the persistent chirping of insects.
“Welcome. May I see your invitation?”
A footman from the House of Vanderbilt stepped forward, verified the document, and gestured toward the estate. Harriet felt his gaze linger on her.
*I am a diamond. I am a diamond.*
Harriet recited the mantra she had clung to all day.
She was a diamond; every trial was merely a test of her hardness. The insults directed at her were nothing but the bile of envy.
*No one can break me.*
She envisioned a diamond scattering brilliant light in every direction, lifted her chin, and looked straight ahead.
Bright lights, women in silk and lace, men in sharp tailcoats—it felt as if every eye in the room turned toward her at once.
Soon, the hostess, Countess Vanderbilt, approached to greet Trisha.
“Welcome, Countess Felon! I cannot tell you how delighted I was to receive word that you would attend.”
“Thank you for the invitation. Ah, this is my grandniece, Harriet. I have come as her chaperone tonight. Harriet, pay your respects. This is Countess Diana Vanderbilt.”
The Countess’s gaze moved to the woman behind Trisha. To a woman who clearly didn’t recognize her, Harriet offered a gentle smile and a graceful curtsy.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Countess Vanderbilt. I am Harriet Listerwell. I have long heard that you throw the most marvelous parties, and I have been looking forward to this evening.”
“Harriet Listerw… Ah, y-yes. Welcome, Miss Listerwell.”
Only after hearing her name did she seem to realize who had arrived at her party. Her lips moved with visible difficulty.
Seeing that awkward reaction, Harriet found that her smile came even more naturally.
“Thank you for the welcome. I once heard you sing an aria at a party hosted by Viscount Ainborough and was completely entranced—do you happen to be singing tonight as well?”
“O-oh, my! You remember that?”
“You sang . To be honest, I thought you might lower the pitch by a half-step during the high notes, but your voice rose so cleanly. I was truly surprised.”
“Oh, my, how embarrassing…”
“Embarrassing? You have a talent as exceptional as any professional.”
At Harriet’s praise, the Countess Vanderbilt giggled, preening.
“That lady loves to sing and is quite good at it. She’ll be delighted to hear you say so.”