Chapter 63
- Actually, my family runs a small newspaper.
“Oh.”
Only then did Vanessa manage to recall a fact she had completely overlooked.
“That’s right. Your name is Dawson…. The famous Lynden Daily. I’d completely forgotten.”
- I’m used to it. Being ignored by pretty girls, I mean.
“I should have realized as soon as I heard the name. I think my mind was so full of other things back then that I didn’t have the room to think of anything else.”
- Goodness. Does that mean I was even pushed aside by my great-uncle in your mind?
Vanessa let out a low laugh, feeling much more at ease. Logan Dawson had a peculiar knack for making people feel comfortable. Perhaps it was because his cheerful cadence reminded her of the Blair of the past.
Blair. Just thinking of him made her heart ache as if it had been scorched by fire. It felt as though she had swallowed a massive thorn and it had gotten stuck in her throat. After all, she hadn’t heard a single word from Blair since the departure ceremony. Could they really no longer even remain friends? Then what would become of her relationship with Rosalyn?
In the past, if something like this had happened, both of them would have rushed to Gloucester in a heartbeat….
- Anyway, there’s something malicious about this rumor from the very start.
When her silence stretched on, Logan Dawson continued the conversation in a more cautious tone.
- It spread so instantly, it’s as if someone planned the scandal and broadcasted it on purpose. Since that Duke is already surrounded by all sorts of unreliable rumors, everyone figured it was just another one of those at first…. But that necklace you wore that day really fanned the flames.
“The necklace I wore?”
- The Mermaid’s Tear. If it really is a fake like you said, then you should doubt the person who gave it to you. See if they’re a reporter or… well, someone’s pawn.
“That’s truly impossible.”
- I’m just saying you should consider the possibility. Whether they’re someone who stands to gain from this scandal.
Well. If the person who had lent her the necklace had been her uncle, and if the scandal were merely a light romantic rumor, Logan’s suspicion would be reasonable. A rumor involving a high-ranking man was the most direct way to increase one’s value in any era.
Like Martha of Latvia, who started as a maid and rose all the way to the Emperor’s bed.
However, the person who had put the necklace on her was not her uncle, but River Ross. Even if she were to doubt everyone in the world, she could not doubt him. No one was further removed from her uncle’s schemes than that man. Furthermore, River Ross had no motive to do such a thing.
“I borrowed that necklace from someone I trust. Hearing you say it, I understand now. It was just a terrible coincidence of events.”
- If that’s the case, then I’m glad.
In any case, she could now guess how things had begun to spiral. The fact that all of this was created by a series of coincidences and misunderstandings lightened her heart considerably. This was something that time would resolve eventually.
Unless she was photographed with the Duke or there was clear evidence to support the scandal…. She didn’t even know what the Duke in those rumors looked like. Vanessa raised her voice, feeling thoroughly refreshed.
“Thank you for reaching out first, Dawson. And for what you told me. I feel much better now.”
- I’m even more grateful you say that. Oh, don’t hang up, wait a second. I’ll put my great-uncle on.
“Is he with you?”
- I snatched the line for a moment while he was waiting for the connection to you. The operator was struggling, so he stepped away for a bit. So….
Logan! A sharp voice calling for him echoed through the transmitter. He must have been continuing the call in secret, as a startled exclamation of “Oops!” immediately followed. Then, after a period of rustling sounds as he scrambled to do something,
- I have to go. See you later, Vanessa!
His hurried farewell brought a hollow laugh to her lips. She hoped he hadn’t heard the sigh that followed. A momentary pang of belated regret brushed past her.
What if she had taken the time to look around her a bit more during her days at Saint Louis? Perhaps they could have shared a decent friendship. It was all a futile assumption now, though….
- I’m on now.
Soon, Benjamin Dawson’s dignified voice came through. Vanessa corrected her posture from where she had been leaning comfortably against the table.
“Mr. Dawson. Have you been well?”
It was their first phone call since she had commissioned the task. She had a hunch that Mr. Dawson wouldn’t have contacted her this early unless there had been some meaningful progress.
- I’m perfectly fine. What about you? Logan says you’ve run into some trouble.
“I’ve been having some rather bewildering days, but it’s not a major problem. Though unfamiliar reporters are constantly loitering around Gloucester.”
- It will take at least two weeks for those persistent gossip rags to lose interest. Since time is short, I’ll get straight to the point.
“W-wait just a moment.”
To calm her racing heart, Vanessa held the transmitter between her cheek and shoulder and poured water into a glass on the table. Benjamin Dawson waited in silence for a moment, as if understanding her state of mind.
“Now… please tell me.”
- I’ve looked into the painting you asked about….
He pronounced the word ‘painting’ with unusual emphasis.
- There are certainly circumstances, that is, characteristics visible in the painting. Of course, it is still too early to jump to conclusions. However, at present, the question you raised back then seems plausible.
Vanessa bit her lip. The painting. Plausible circumstances. It meant only one thing. That there was a possibility the will had been forged. That, in turn, meant there was an entity that had illegitimately intervened in her parents’ deaths.
- Take it slow, breathe. My dear….
The person who stood to gain the most from her parents’ deaths…. The moment an undeniable face surfaced vividly in her mind, her vision went dark. Vanessa gripped the edge of the table tightly to endure the dizziness.
“Is that… really true?”
- That is my judgment. For more certainty, it would be best to use the…, but the method of access is not favorable. They seem to be wary of any meetings as well.
He had intentionally slurred the pronunciation. Inferring from the context, it seemed to be a legal term like a court order or a request for information disclosure. Mr. Dawson seemed to be speaking with the possibility in mind that someone might be eavesdropping on the call.
- So, rather than doing this over the phone, I would like to meet. That artist said they would decide whether to sell the painting after seeing you. We should meet and discuss the detailed price. That’s not the sort of thing to talk about over the phone.
“I’ll come to see you. Where should I go?”
- I happen to have business in Bath next week. We can meet briefly then.
The sound of flipping paper was heard briefly, as if he were reconfirming his schedule.
- Do you have a pen and paper nearby?
“Yes. They’re right here.”
- I’ll give you the address. Are you ready?
Vanessa picked up a quill soaked in ink and leaned over the table.
“Yes.”
- 3:00 PM at Welder Tea House, 203, District 4, 17 Roderick Street. And don’t forget, Vanessa.
The added warning in his voice was solemn.
- If you are going to buy the painting, you must come alone.
It was a space where not a single ray of light entered, even though it was midday. Thick dark green curtains hung to the floor at every window, and the only light illuminating the room came from a few dying scented candles. Blair looked upon the scene with somewhat appalled eyes.
In his memory, this room had always been noble and elegant. But now.
Instead of teacups, the table was lined with glass cups filled with alcohol, and empty or half-empty wine bottles were rolling haphazardly across the floor. Blair used the toe of his boot to stop an empty brandy bottle that had rolled to his feet.
Whether she heard that cautious movement, the woman who had been lying on the daybed like a corpse let out a fierce cry.
“I… told you not to disturb me!”
Blair swallowed a sigh and took another step toward the daybed.
“It’s me, Mother.”
“…Blair?”
At her son’s voice, Louise sat up completely from the daybed with a dazed expression. Only then did her hands move busily to straighten her disheveled appearance. Blair stared at his mother, who reeked terribly of alcohol, with sunken eyes.
“My goodness…. Look who it is.”
Tears welled up in Louise’s eyes, which had turned red from the strong liquor.
“You should have… told me you were coming. I, really, didn’t know it was you….”
“When did you start drinking?”
“I don’t know. Just, a little…. Because I felt good….”
“Where is Father?”
“He, probably… came in at dawn. No, no…. He said he had business in Amiens, that he was going there… I think. Was it yesterday? It might have been three days ago…. He said there was something, something… at the factory.”
Louise forced the corners of her mouth up as she looked at her son.
“Right, will you be staying here for a while? I think it’s best for you to be home until the wedding, anyway…. Right. I should call Cissy tomorrow morning too….”
“No.”
Blair caught Louise’s pale hand that was grabbing his arm and pulled it away.
“I am going to break off my engagement with Cissy, Mother.”
