Ch#71
Ch#71
Ch#71
~Chapter 71~
While building her business and earning money, Harriet had forgotten the original reason why she had started making money in the first place.
‘Come to think of it…… I still don’t know why Uncle came all the way to the monastery to take me away. There must have been some important reason.’
Of course, there was no doubt that it had been for John’s sake, not hers. After all, her uncle was the kind of man who had turned his back on his dying brother and sister-in-law in order to seize their title and fortune.
“When Viscount Listerwell and his wife’s ship began to sink, he turned his head away.”
“He didn’t even seem to make the slightest attempt to save them.”
“By the time they were dying, he had already decided to take over the family. Leaving you at the monastery must have been the final step in that plan.”
Baron Billey’s words echoed in her mind. The anger and resentment she had tried to bury began to surge up again.
Yes. Harriet hadn’t simply returned to Genoa to become independent. She had to avenge her parents.
“Understood. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She nodded, accepting Trisha’s advice.
Reading her expression, Trisha added in a rare gentle tone,
“If you’re really upset, have a glass of champagne by yourself.”
“Yes…… That might be a good idea.”
Her chest still stung a little, but Harriet knew that what she needed right now wasn’t comfort—it was practical, clear-headed advice. And she was grateful for that.
Harriet’s mood had settled a bit. When the bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the window, she impulsively decided to go out.
‘It wouldn’t be so bad to buy some really good champagne and celebrate a little.’ She thought.
“Shall we go to Seviol Street?”
“No. Take me to Peyton Street today.”
“Oh? Do you have an appointment?”
The coachman was surprised by her unusual destination, but Harriet simply didn’t want to go somewhere crowded where she might be recognized. Peyton Street had plenty of good wine shops too.
As the carriage sped along and leafless trees flashed by, Harriet gazed out the window and quietly reproached herself for having forgotten her parents’ death even for a moment.
When they arrived at the entrance to Peyton Street, she straightened her clothes and took a deep breath.
‘Dwelling on sad thoughts won’t help. From now on, I just need to stay sharp. It’ll be fine.’
She encouraged herself. No one was going to comfort her, so she had to do it herself.
When she stepped down from the carriage, her face was brimming with confidence and poise, just as usual.
She entered the wine shop her father had frequented. The owner had changed, but the shop was the same. Warm memories of her childhood, running around at her father’s side, came back to life.
“Welcome. Are you looking for something in particular?”
A young man came out from behind the counter and asked politely.
He looked quite a bit like the previous shop owner.
“Did your father used to run this place?”
“Oh! Yes, that’s right. Were you a customer from back then? I don’t think I’ve seen you before…….”
“Ah, I came a few times when I was little.”
She smiled and looked around. Not knowing much about alcohol, she wasn’t sure what to buy.
“I have something to celebrate. Could you recommend a good champagne?”
“Do you have a preferred taste or aroma?”
“I like ones that are sweet and fruity. Is that too childish?”
“Not at all! Many people prefer sweet champagne. Do you have a price range in mind?”
Harriet knew wine prices varied wildly, but she didn’t know what caused the differences or what range was appropriate for her.
“What’s the price of the most delicious champagne here?”
“Haha! That’s hard to say. Taste is subjective, after all. But if you’re curious about the most expensive bottle, I can tell you. It’s right over here.”
He pointed to a bottle inside the glass display case.
A deep green bottle wrapped in gold foil from the neck up, with a simple orange label. Even Harriet, who didn’t know much about wine, recognized the name. Van Ribel.
“How much is that one?”
“40,000 dirham.”
“What? For one bottle of alcohol?”
“Yes. To be honest, it doesn’t even qualify as top-shelf. We mostly sell products for enjoyment, not ornamental collectibles.”
Spending 40,000 dirham on a drink that would just be consumed was unimaginable to Harriet.
Even when her father was alive, he had never splurged on liquor that expensive.
“To be frank, miss, I wouldn’t recommend the Van Ribel,” the shop owner said kindly.
“You said it’s for celebrating something important—the star should be the event itself, not the alcohol, right? I’d suggest something more refined but less extravagant, like Hastings or Othello…….”
The shop owner was doing his best to recommend good champagne, but Harriet’s gaze was fixed on the bottle in the glass case.
Not because of the price.
Because the vintage year on that champagne was 1866.
The very year when she had begun to lose her parents, her home, and her old life—everything.
It was ridiculous to fixate on something like a single bottle of champagne, but even so, Harriet lifted her chin and pointed.
“I’ll take that one.”
“Pardon? You mean the Van Ribel?”
“Yes. And the Hastings you just mentioned too. One bottle each, please.”
“Miss…… Are you sure?”
“Of course. I can more than afford it. Please wrap the Van Ribel nicely—it’s a gift.”
At her calm, confident demeanor, the shop owner still looked puzzled, but he soon carefully retrieved the bottle from the display case as instructed.
Writing 40,250 dirham in her checkbook and signing her name below it was a new experience for Harriet.
‘I really just spent 40,000 dirham at once.’
Even though the champagne she herself would drink was only 250 dirham.
‘Great-grandmother did say to spend money on productive things.’
Harriet hugged the neatly wrapped champagne and climbed back into the carriage.
“Shall we head home now?”
“Yes…… But on the way, please stop by the Duke of Killas’s residence for a moment.”
The coachman looked surprised once again, but he said nothing and quietly drove the carriage toward the Killas mansion.
In Cedric’s quiet study, only the sound of turning pages and the scratch of a pen nib filled the air.
He had just finished reviewing the estate report and was about to move on to the next document when he heard a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
The butler entered with a slightly troubled expression.
“Your Grace. There was a minor disturbance at the main gate. A visitor tried to deliver a package without disclosing its contents and was turned away by the guards.”
“Is that something I need to be informed about?”
“Well…… um……”
At the hesitation in the butler’s voice, Cedric finally looked up.
“The person causing the disturbance…… was Lady Harriet Listerwell.”
Cedric paused with the water glass halfway to his lips.
“……Did Lady Harriet request a meeting today?”
“No, sir. She just said she’d leave the gift and go. But as you know, everything entering the mansion must be thoroughly inspected. When the guards insisted, the lady refused to open it.”
Cedric slowly set the glass down.
After the war ended and Kiphren was absorbed into the empire, armed factions from the defeated nation of Firmer—still furious about it—had repeatedly attempted to assassinate Cedric, the war hero.
As a result, security was extremely tight. All items entering the mansion had to be pre-declared, and packaging fully opened to check contents.
Harriet probably didn’t know about those rules.
“So? What happened?”
“Well…… Since she’s not a stranger, we’ve taken her to the guest waiting room for now…….”
Cedric glanced at the clock.
“Do I have any other appointments today?”
“None, Your Grace.”
“Then escort Lady Harriet to the drawing room.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The butler quietly left the room.
But as he headed to the waiting room, his expression was a bit perplexed.
‘If it had been anyone else, His Grace would have sent them away immediately…….’
Cedric almost never bent protocol to meet unscheduled visitors. Unless it was urgent, involved the imperial family, or they were someone very close.
The butler wasn’t sure if Lady Harriet fell into that ‘very close’ category, but the duke apparently thought she did.
