Chapter 41
~Chapter 41~
Abbess Catherine shook her head once more.
But Harriet flashed an even brighter smile and clasped Catherine’s hand in hers.
“Of course, I don’t know whether this business will succeed or fail. But I can guarantee the excellent quality of the convent’s products, and that the attention I’m receiving right now will lead to popularity for them. People have no idea just how much notice I’m getting.”
As Catherine still hesitated, Harriet tightened her grip and continued.
“Abbess, I’m not planning this business just to make money for the convent.”
“Then?”
“There are so many monks and children here who don’t want to become priests or nuns but have no other options, so they stay. I thought this business could open new paths for them.”
At those words, Catherine and Agnes looked as if they’d been struck on the back of the head. It wasn’t betrayal—it was realization.
A solution was finally dawning on them for a problem so familiar they’d forgotten it even existed. At last, Catherine’s heart began to waver.
“If the soap sells well, as you say…”
“We could operate the workshop independently. We could use part of the profits for the convent’s operating expenses and the rest as wages for the workers. Then, even the girls who don’t want to become nuns could build lives of their own.”
Catherine fiddled with her rough hands, lost in deep thought.
There were no holes in Harriet’s plan.
If the business succeeded as planned, the convent would secure even more operating funds, giving momentum to their charitable work for the poor and education for abandoned children. A stable source of income was an incredibly important matter.
But there was one big problem.
“To start a business that large, we’ll need money, though. How do you plan to raise the funds?”
Harriet took a deep breath. From here on, it wasn’t just planning—it required resolve.
“I’ll find investors. That’s why I came to you for approval first, Abbess.”
“Do you think that’s possible? Our convent isn’t even well-known…”
“I’ll find a way to secure the investment. But in return…”
She clasped her hands together and made an earnest plea.
“Please sign an exclusive contract with me.”
After securing the exclusive contract with Catherine, Harriet spent the entire journey back to Genoa thinking about investors.
‘I talked a big game in front of the Abbess, but finding investors won’t be easy.’
Thanks to Trisha’s influence, she’d successfully reentered high society, but people still didn’t fully trust her.
A few young ladies had shown positive interest at Annabelle’s tea party, but asking them for investment would likely ruin the relationships she was only just beginning to build.
‘Isn’t there anyone suitable?’
As she approached Genoa’s gates, she ran through everyone she knew, including her uncle.
Harriet planned to visit a few noblewomen Trisha had introduced her to. They had shown interest in the soap and cosmetics business, and they seemed to have plenty of the necessary funds.
‘They’re all curious about the secret to my improved skin, and I have the answer. If I leverage my visibility, someone is bound to recognize the potential in this business.’
If worst came to worst, she was prepared to take out a loan from the bank. She might not be able to borrow a large sum at first, but with a good start and positive results, she could secure more funding later.
She was mulling over these various plans as she passed through the gates when a large carriage overtook the others and exited the lane first.
No one objected, and the family crest engraved on the carriage’s side hinted that it had been granted priority passage.
Harriet watched the carriage’s receding back with a mix of envy and curiosity, then opened the window and asked a nearby merchant who was waiting.
“Excuse me, do you know which family owns that carriage that just went ahead?”
The merchant eyed her up and down at the sudden question before gruffly replying.
“You look like a fine young lady from a noble house, but you don’t recognize the crest?”
“I’ve been away in the countryside recuperating for a long time.”
“Ah… That carriage belongs to the Kailas Dukedom. The fact that it went first suggests it’s carrying goods related to royal business.”
At that moment, Harriet realized she’d completely forgotten to include Cedric Kailas among her potential investors.
‘Why didn’t I think of him?’
Even setting aside his immense wealth, he had ties to Saint Clarissa Convent. Hadn’t he visited during last year’s festival week and made a huge donation?
‘I could pitch it as not just a business opportunity, but a chance to support the convent!’
Of course, she didn’t want to run into him if she could help it. His overbearing demeanor and ambiguous speech always made her uneasy.
‘And it seems like he doesn’t like me, either.’
When she’d sent the muffler and hat, she’d almost mistaken his response for an apology because she felt so guilty, but recalling the Vanderbilt party, he probably harbored ill feelings toward her.
Still, the current business at Saint Clarissa Convent had started with his donation, so if she emphasized that connection, she might at least win his sympathy.
‘And he’s not the type to go around blabbing that I pitched a business to him. It might be best to approach Duke Kailas first.’
This was a time to swallow her pride. If she could get an investment from him, she was even prepared to apologize for her past behavior. This wasn’t humiliation—it was a “strategic retreat,” right?
That thought ignited her enthusiasm… only for it to quickly fade.
‘But will the duke even agree to meet me?’
She was just an ordinary noble with nothing to offer. Considering the conditions he’d proposed when he offered her financial support, he seemed to truly dislike any association with Harriet Listerwell.
The odds of her appointment request being rejected by his secretary were 99.9 percent.
A sigh escaped her.
‘Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?’
She should do everything she could.
Harriet resolved to prepare her business proposal as thoroughly as possible for the investors.
“That’s all for today’s report.”
Roxana finished confirming the last item on the agenda and organized the documents.
Her employer and benefactor, Trisha, closed the cap on her fountain pen, let out a light sigh, and rose from her seat.
“Warm tea is prepared.”
“Thank you, Roxie.”
Thanks to Roxana, who was always one step ahead in preparing everything, Trisha never felt afraid even when sitting alone at home.
Seated at the tea table, she stayed still until Roxana draped a lap blanket over her knees. It was sweltering weather, but she didn’t shed a single drop of sweat.
“I’ve heard Harriet is up to something. Have you heard anything?”
At Trisha’s question, Roxana furrowed her brow slightly and fell silent for a long moment. After taking a sip of her cool drink, she opened her mouth as if she’d made up her mind.
“How far do you plan to look after Harriet?”
“Why? Do you think that girl will stab me in the back?”
“I know you have excellent judgment of character, ma’am. But when it comes to Harriet, it feels like you’re being swayed by past connections. We can’t believe rumors wholesale, but we can’t ignore them entirely, either.”
Trisha let out a light laugh at Roxana, who was echoing something similar to what John had said.
“That might be true. But that’s no reason not to help her. It’s easy for a rich old lady like me to help someone on a whim.”
At those words, Roxana’s cheeks flushed.
“Um, it’s a bit ridiculous for me to say such things about Harriet. After all, I’m one of the people you’ve helped.”
Roxana was one of those who had received aid during Trisha’s days of “helping people out of pure goodwill.”
Harriet could at least call Trisha her great-aunt, but Roxana—the daughter of the sixth cousin of the late Oster, a distant relative—was practically a stranger.
Her mother had fled early from her husband’s debauched lifestyle, and her father had squandered their modest fortune on alcohol, gambling, women, and even unidentified drugs.
Abandoned by her parents, Roxana had grown up with a sharp mind unlike theirs.
“The Pellon family is your main house! I’m Roxana of the distant Balbanas family, a collateral branch! Please, Count, help me!”
It was the day Roxana, at fifteen years old, had clung to the Pellon family gates, soaked to the skin in rain and sweat, shouting those words.
