Chapter 70
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 70
– Actually, my family runs a small newspaper.
"Oh."
Only then did Vanessa recall a fact she had completely forgotten.
"Right. You're a Dawson… The Linden Daily. I completely forgot."
– I'm used to it. Being ignored by pretty girls, I mean.
"I should have realized the moment I heard your name. I suppose my mind was so preoccupied back then that I didn't have room to think about anything else."
– Good heavens. Does that mean I was pushed aside even by my great-uncle?
Vanessa let out a low laugh, feeling much more at ease. Logan Dawson had a peculiar knack for putting people at ease. Perhaps it was because his cheerful cadence reminded her of how Blair used to be.
Blair. The mere thought of him sent a sharp pain through her chest, as if she had swallowed a thorn. She hadn't heard from him once since the departure ceremony. Could they not even remain friends anymore? If so, what did that mean for 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, this rumor has felt malicious from the start.
When the silence stretched on, Logan Dawson continued in a light tone.
– It spread so fast, it’s as if someone orchestrated the scandal and spread it deliberately. Since that Duke is already plagued by all sorts of far-fetched rumors, everyone probably thought it was just another one of them… but the necklace you wore that day added fuel to the fire.
"The necklace I wore?"
– The Mermaid's Tears. If it really is an imitation like you said, then you've been falsely accused. But… well, you might want to question the person who gave it to you. See if they might be an informant for a reporter… or for someone else.
"That's ridiculous."
– I'm just saying you should think about it. The person who stands to gain from this scandal… well, in my eyes, there's only one. Especially if the necklace is a fake.
If, by some chance, the person who had lent her the necklace was her uncle, Logan Dawson's suspicion was reasonable. In certain circles, a scandal with a high-ranking man was the most direct way to raise one's social standing.
Just like Marta of Latvia, who started as a maid and rose all the way to the Emperor's bed.
At any rate, she now had an idea of how things had become so tangled. She also realized it was all the result of a series of coincidences and misunderstandings. The realization made her heart feel much lighter. This was something time would resolve on its own.
As long as no evidence surfaced to back up the scandal, like a photograph of her with the Duke… She didn't even know what the Duke from the rumors looked like. Feeling thoroughly relieved, Vanessa’s voice brightened.
"Thank you for reaching out first, Dawson. You've cheered me up."
– I'm even more grateful to hear you say that. Oh, don't hang up, wait a second. I'll hand you over to my great-uncle.
"Is he next to you?"
– He had the operator connect the call to you, and I just snatched it for a moment… So…
Logan! A sharp voice calling his name echoed through the receiver. He must have been sneaking the call, because a startled "Oops!" immediately slipped out, followed by a flurry of rustling sounds.
– I've got to go. See you later, Vanessa!
His rushed farewell drew a hollow laugh from her lips. She hoped he hadn’t heard the sigh that followed. A fleeting, belated regret washed over her.
What if she had taken the time to look around her a bit more during her days at St. Louis Boarding School? Perhaps they could have shared a decent friendship. But it was a useless thought now…
– I've taken over the line.
Soon, Benjamin Dawson's grave, dignified voice came through. Vanessa straightened her posture, pushing away from the table she had been leaning against.
This was their first call since she had commissioned him. She had a feeling Mr. Dawson wouldn't have reached out so soon unless there was significant progress.
The lawyers she had encountered so far generally seemed to despise wasting time.
"Mr. Dawson. Have you been well?"
– I'm doing well, nothing to complain about. Are you alright? Logan mentioned you've run into some trouble.
"I've been having some rather bewildering days, but it's nothing too serious. Though unfamiliar reporters keep loitering around Gloucester."
– It will take at least two weeks for those persistent gossip rags to back off. I originally intended to write to you, but I called out of concern that those fellows might even bribe the postman. Since time is short, I'll get straight to the point.
"Just a moment."
To calm her racing heart, Vanessa cradled the receiver between her cheek and shoulder and poured water into a glass on the table. Benjamin Dawson waited in silence, as if understanding her state of mind.
"Now… please tell me."
– I looked into the painting you requested…
He placed a distinct emphasis on the word 'painting.'
– There are certainly some circumstances—or rather, characteristics—that stand out. Of course, it's too early to jump to conclusions about its value. But for now, most of the opinions you shared with me seem plausible.
Vanessa bit her lip. The painting. Plausible circumstances. It meant only one thing: there was a possibility that the will had been forged. And that, in turn, meant someone had a hand in her parents' deaths.
– Take a slow breath, child…
The person who stood to gain the most from her parents' deaths… The moment an undeniable face flashed through her mind, her vision swam. Vanessa gripped the edge of the table tightly to stave off the dizziness.
"Is that… really true?"
– In my judgment, yes. To be precise, it would be best to utilize… certain measures, but the means of approach are not favorable. They seem to be cautious about meeting as well.
He had intentionally slurred his words. From the context, she inferred he was referring to some legal action, like a court order or a request for information. Mr. Dawson was clearly speaking with the constant possibility of a wiretap in mind.
A reporter, her uncle, or…
– So, rather than doing this over the phone, it would be best for us to meet. The painter said they would judge whether to sell the painting after seeing you. We should meet and discuss the exact price in detail. That sort of thing isn't meant to be talked about over the phone.
"I'll come to see you. Where should I go?"
– As it happens, I have business in Bath next week. We can meet briefly then.
The sound of rustling paper echoed briefly as he checked his schedule.
– Do you have a pen and paper nearby?
"Yes, right here."
– I'll give you the address.
Vanessa leaned over the table, holding a quill dipped generously in ink. She layered several sheets of paper to avoid smudging, then signaled that she was ready.
– Welder Tea House, No. 203, District 4, 17 Roderick Street, at three in the afternoon. And do not forget, Vanessa.
His voice grew grave as he added a final warning.
– If you intend to purchase the painting, you must come alone.
* * *
Heavy, dark green curtains draped to the floor, plunging the large room into darkness. Despite it being midday, not a single ray of light penetrated the gloom. The air was thick with the acrid smoke of a few dying scented candles.
It was an exquisitely elegant and refined space, except for the fact that the only things on the tea table were a glass of potent gin and several liquor bottles—some empty, some half-full—that littered the floor.
Blair stopped an empty wine bottle rolling toward him with the tip of his boot. He gestured for the anxious maid behind him to wait outside. At the sound of his movement, the woman lying deathly still on the couch cried out fiercely.
“I told you not to disturb me!”
Blair swallowed a sigh and took a step into the room.
“It's me, Mother.”
Blair watched with weary eyes as his mother scrambled to sit up upon recognizing him. Tears welled in Louise's bloodshot eyes.
“Oh my… look who it is.”
She hurriedly wiped the moisture from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“You should have let me know sooner. I didn't even realize it was you…”
“When did you start drinking again?”
“I don't know. Just, a little… because I was in a good mood…”
“Where is Father?”
“He… probably came home at dawn. No, wait… I think he said he had business in Amiens. He said there was… something at the factory.”
Louise forced the corners of her mouth up as she looked at her son.
“So, will you be staying for a while? I suppose it's best for you to be home until the wedding… I should call Sissy over tomorrow morning…”
“No.”
Blair took Louise's pale hand from his arm and gently pulled it away.
“I am breaking off my engagement with Sissy, Mother.”