Chapter 27
~Chapter 27~
“I’m watching that child with interest because she seems to have plans of her own.” Trisha said with a rare, fully bloomed smile.
They didn’t interact often, but the Trisha that Cedric had seen was always expressionless or wore a faintly irritated look. This was the first time he’d seen her so delighted.
“It seems Miss Harriet has taken your fancy.”
At those words, Trisha swiftly reverted to a cold expression, as if embarrassed by the smile she’d shown moments ago.
“Not yet. She still has many shortcomings. It seems she never received a proper education after losing her parents at such a young age.”
“Is that so?”
“No need to play dumb. In this social circle, it’d be more surprising if someone hadn’t heard about her. I’ve certainly heard the rumors.”
Trisha continued, gently brushing a hydrangea bloom with her fingertip.
“But I don’t put full stock in rumors. As you know, Your Grace, they’re usually exaggerated for dramatic effect. They can be distorted—or outright untrue.”
“Indeed.”
“So I’m trying to water this withering sapling, fertilize it properly, and make sure it gets sunlight at the right times. Who knows? It might bloom into something beautiful.”
“And if it doesn’t bloom—if it just withers away? Wouldn’t all that effort be wasted?”
Trisha, who had been toying with the hydrangea petals, lifted her head to look at Cedric.
“You’ve never tended a garden, have you?”
“Well…”
“Those who tend gardens don’t rage or get irritated when a carefully watered and fertilized plant dies. Instead, they reflect on what they might have done wrong. They don’t blame the plant.”
In short, if the plant withered, the fault usually lay with the gardener.
John must be the one who left Harriet in that state. He dotes on his own daughter endlessly, though.
Of course, Cedric wasn’t claiming that a nephew should be treated like one’s own child. But considering the generosity Arthur had shown John in life, his behavior was nothing short of ungrateful.
The image flitted through Trisha’s mind of Harriet trying on a dress during the fitting and gazing at her reflection.
This is the first outfit I’ve bought that I truly love since Mother passed away.
Harriet had been smiling, but faint traces of sorrow still lingered on her face, unwashed away.
The sun might rise, but that didn’t mean the deep-seated dampness in the petals would dry up right away.
Yet Harriet had chosen to push forward past her grief. She wasn’t some fragile sapling that would wither at the slightest touch.
“To be honest, for all my talk, I never start a project doomed to fail. Harriet will grow splendidly. I do have a knack for judging people, after all.” Trisha said confidently, tilting her chin up.
Cedric found that self-assurance of hers strangely alluring—and he even felt a sudden urge to see more of Trisha going forward.
“There’s a reason the Pellon family business has prospered so much. If this were an investment pitch, I might’ve handed over my coin purse without a second thought.”
Trisha’s eyes sparkled with mischief at his half-joking, half-serious remark.
“Care to invest?”
Her intent unclear, Cedric held his smile in lieu of a reply. Trisha burst into laughter, as if she’d anticipated exactly that.
“Joking, just joking. Haha!”
Cedric laughed right along with her.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had enchanted him.
In late June, around the time Harriet’s presence in the Listerwell family had faded from memory, her name came up once more.
Among the stack of letters delivered by the postman was one addressed to Harriet—from an unexpected sender.
“Huh? The branch manager at the Aseti Bank in Perillas?”
John picked up the letter and cocked his head.
Perillas lay near Genoa, but what reason could that bank have to write to Harriet?
Without hesitation, John tore open the envelope.
“To the esteemed Miss Harriet Listerwell… The land and mansion your late father entrusted to the bank as collateral for debt repayment are scheduled for return as of June 25th. However, to finalize the procedures, the rightful owner—Miss Harriet—must visit in person anytime after June 25th to sign the return documents….”
John’s eyes bulged as he scanned the letter.
“What? 165 hectares of land in Perillas? And a mansion to boot?”
It was property he’d never even heard of. And now it was falling into Harriet’s hands? Utterly shocking!
“What in the world is going on here?”
Luckily, the Aseti Bank branch manager—figuring Harriet might have forgotten this old contract—had enclosed a separate document detailing everything.
The Perillas land and mansion had originally belonged to a certain Baron Thomas Belburn. That name jogged John’s memory of an old rumor.
“Thomas Belburn—that bastard would gamble even if you chopped off his wrists. Hell, he’d probably do it with his tongue.”
“If you cut out his tongue, he’d use his damn toes.”
Gambling addict Thomas! Yeah, that’s gotta be him!
Evidently, Thomas had racked up a massive debt to Arthur. The document didn’t specify why, but it was almost certainly gambling—either funds borrowed for bets or a huge loss to Arthur himself. Never heard of my brother gambling, so Arthur must’ve been the lender.
No telling how the two knew each other, but with the land and mansion as collateral, Arthur must’ve figured his money was safe. Gamblers’ fortunes, though, were anything but stable.
When repayment came due, Thomas vanished. Arthur checked and found he’d fled in the night. Heading out to inspect his prize land instead of cash, Arthur was met at the Belburn mansion by furious tenant farmers, seed merchants, and brokers all screaming for their money.
Just like that, Arthur became the new landlord—right in front of the raging crowd.
“Sir Arthur Listerwell took out a loan from this bank to settle Belburn’s outstanding debts, then entrusted the land and mansion to us for ten years. Profits during that time would offset the loan. (June 25, 1866). The property is registered in the name of Miss Harriet Listerwell and will be fully returned to her ten years later, on June 25, 1876.”
“June 25, 1866?”
That was three days before Arthur died.
That’s right! Brother had just gotten back from a trip. Was it to Perillas?
Fresh from his return, Arthur had whisked his brother’s family off on an outing. And before he could even log the contract in the books, he’d passed away all too suddenly.
No wonder I never knew.
John smacked his lips in regret.
Had he learned of this while Harriet was still home, prying her signature for the transfer would’ve been child’s play.
Not that he had any intention of letting the land and mansion slip away now. Perillas was renowned for its fertile soil—and debt-free, it was a veritable golden goose.
This alone would cover the Bernard Shipping disaster losses with plenty left over to pour into Azental Shipping trade!
John, still reeling from recent trade setbacks, felt heaven itself was on his side.
Harriet has no clue about the land. Just swing ownership my way.
John got straight to forging transfer documents from Harriet. He’d fake her signature and seal the deal.
The papers claimed that with the change in Listerwell family head, all assets now fell under the new head’s management—and thus Harriet Listerwell relinquished all rights to the property.
“…In accordance with the above… ownership of the land and mansion… is hereby transferred to Uncle John Listerwell.”
Pleased with his handiwork, John grinned. He considered signing it himself but called for Bella instead.
John laid out the Perillas land situation and slid the transfer document her way.
“My handwriting’s too close; it’d raise suspicions. You write Harriet’s name.”
“Sure. But you buy me earrings tomorrow. Deal?”
Not giving John a chance to object, Bella scribbled Harriet’s signature across the page.
It felt a tad sleazy writing her name, but eyeing those diamond earrings she’d coveted eased her conscience. Totally worth it.
John chafed at Bella’s nonstop jewelry chatter but held his tongue.
Sell off just the Perillas land and I’d pocket at least thirty million dirhams. What’s a pair of earrings?
But his grand schemes crumbled to dust before the day was out.
