Chapter 12
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 12
With that, he turned and left.
Bella didn’t miss the faint sneer lingering in his final words.
Was he mocking me?
She wanted to believe she was overreacting—that he hadn’t meant it that way—but no matter how much she turned it over in her mind, she arrived at the same mortifying conclusion.
Cedric knew. He knew the Listerwell family’s true intention behind flaunting Harriet’s exile to the convent. He knew that Bella’s approach was merely a secondary part of that scheme.
Furthermore, her beauty and the ruby meant nothing to him. To a man like him, the House of Viscount Listerwell itself was utterly worthless.
Bella’s clenched fist trembled. This level of humiliation and shame was entirely new to her.
How much more beautiful do I need to be? How much more famous?
She had risen from the daughter of an insignificant cadet branch to a proper Lady of a viscount’s house. She was now the renowned flower of high society and its most sought-after bride. Yet, it felt as if nothing had changed from the days when she was merely called "Harriet’s cousin."
“Bella, come here! I’ll introduce you to my friends!”
The image of a young Harriet, smiling and waving in the sparkling sunlight, flashed before her eyes. It was the memory of the exact moment she had decided she wanted to snatch away everything that belonged to Harriet.
The inferiority she had buried deep in her soul felt as if it were prying open a coffin lid and crawling out, suffocating her. She didn't even notice someone approaching to pour her champagne.
“My Lady? Are you alright?”
Bella snapped back to reality at the sound of a gentle voice. She turned her head to find a man she recognized looking at her with a worried expression.
James Cheslow?
He was the eldest son of the House of Count Cheslow and Daphne Laurel’s fiancé. He was also the owner of the brooch that had almost been pinned to Harriet’s skirt.
Bella quickly unclenched her fist and smoothed her expression.
“Ah, I apologize. I felt a little dizzy for a moment…”
“Oh dear! May I offer you my arm?”
He set down his glass and extended his arm to Bella.
She hadn’t paid him much attention before, but now she saw he was quite handsome. Unlike some people, he possessed excellent manners toward women. Moreover, the House of Count Cheslow was a powerful family.
Daphne has it all. A good family, plenty of money, a pretty face. Even a perfect fiancé. How annoying.
But at that moment, a thought occurred to her—the same thought she’d had long ago, the one that had changed her life.
I’ll just take it.
Bella’s life was the result of fierce struggle and conquest. If she wanted something, she took it by any means necessary and made it her own. The Ducal House of Kailas might be a peak she couldn't yet dare to scale, but the House of Count Cheslow?
It’s worth a try.
And who knew? If she became the woman James Cheslow was infatuated with, perhaps even Cedric Kailas would see her in a new light.
Having made up her mind, Bella let her eyelashes flutter as she offered a weak, fragile smile.
“I wonder if I should impose like this…”
“Impose? It is the duty of a gentleman to assist a lady in distress.”
Bella feigned a moment of reluctance before placing her hand on James’s arm.
“I gratefully accept your kindness. Oh, I am Bella Listerwell.”
“Is there a man in this kingdom who doesn’t know your name, My Lady? I am James Cheslow.”
“I’ve seen you from afar, but this is our first proper meeting. Thank you again for your kindness… Ah, I feel dizzy again…”
James quickly supported Bella’s shoulder as she swayed dramatically.
“My Lady, perhaps I should call for a physician!”
“Oh, no, it’s alright. I don’t wish to cause a scene. Would you be so kind as to escort me to the guest parlor?”
“Of course.”
Like a paragon of chivalry, he steadfastly supported Bella and headed toward the guest parlor. He likely never imagined that his entire future was about to be overturned within those four walls.
*
Many believe life in a convent is a monotonous, peaceful affair. In some ways, that is true; in others, it is not. How could pure peace exist wherever people reside?
Abbess Catherine gathered her inner circle to clear her cluttered mind.
“I’ve gathered you all today because I wish to discuss Sister Harriet.”
Catherine looked around at those who had been dealing with Harriet directly: Vice-Abbess Agnes; Emma, who had been Harriet’s guide; and Sophia from the soap workshop.
“What do you all think of Sister Harriet?”
Three months after taking in the "Troublemaker of High Society," they had to admit that Harriet was nothing like they had expected.
Harriet Listerwell—the woman called a scandal maker and a stain on her family—was, in fact, quieter, kinder, and more diligent than any of the other noble ladies residing there. It was enough to make them wonder why such a person had been exiled in the first place.
“Honestly, Abbess, I doubt the rumors about Sister Harriet are even true. Someone supposedly ‘obsessed with men’ hasn’t mentioned the opposite sex once in three months,” Sophia, who spent the most time with Harriet, said in her defense.
“But the only man in our convent is the old stableman, isn’t he? Perhaps she simply hasn’t had the occasion,” Agnes countered.
“Even so, she hasn’t complained about the lack of men. She hasn’t pried into anyone else’s romantic life, nor has she seemed the least bit interested.”
The defense continued.
“I, too, was initially displeased with her, but she is more tender-hearted than I thought,” Emma added.
“Why do you say that, Emma?”
“Well, on the first day, when I brought food and clothes to her room, I heard her crying. It wasn’t a cry of indignation or anger. It was pure, raw sadness. And…”
Sister Emma, who had escorted Harriet to her room that first day, recalled how she hadn't been able to bring herself to open the door. She spoke in a hushed voice.
“She was crying, saying, ‘Father, please... take me with you...’”
Everyone knew that Harriet had lost both parents and been taken in by her uncle. Her plea to be "taken with them" could only mean one thing: she wished to die.
“Did she dare to speak so lightly of the life God gave her?” Catherine asked. “And in a place dedicated to His will?”
“But I understand that feeling, Abbess.”
Emma didn’t back down, even as she lowered her eyes, unable to meet Catherine’s gaze. Like Harriet, she had lost her parents and spent her childhood being shuffled from one relative’s house to another. She knew all too well how miserable it was to live at the mercy of others—how difficult it was to hold one's head high among people who treated you like a burden simply because you were an orphan.
“Every time I realized no one loved me… I felt there was no meaning to life. I don’t think it would be much different for a noble.”
“She could have reflected on those who lost their parents and endured even harsher circumstances,” Catherine argued. “She could have realized her own good fortune.”
“That may be true, but…”
As Emma faltered, Agnes chimed in.
“It is rare for people to appreciate their circumstances by thinking of those less fortunate, Abbess. Human nature is to compare oneself to those who have more.”
“And Sister Harriet is only twenty-one,” Sophia added. “She hasn’t had the chance to truly encounter God until now.”
With Sophia joining the fray, Catherine’s sharp gaze finally softened.
“Haa… Since you all speak so strongly, I suppose I can trust that my own judgment wasn't mistaken.”
In truth, Catherine harbored no ill will toward Harriet. She had deliberately treated the girl strictly and assigned her the manual labor usually reserved for ordinary nuns, fearing she might cause trouble. Yet, Harriet had accepted it all docilely and worked without complaint.
I thought she’d protest being singled out for work.
When Harriet didn't, Catherine began to suspect that the information she’d received from the family was inaccurate. The letter from Viscount Listerwell had stated: “Having lost her parents, she was raised with too much indulgence, making her immature and self-willed.”
If that were true, she wouldn't have had such a calm, resigned look in her eyes when she was assigned labor as punishment.
No, it had been strange from the very first moment she greeted Catherine and Agnes. It was natural for a noble lady to shed tears of fear or outrage upon entering a convent. But to hastily wipe away tears and be unable to lift one's head, as Harriet had done… that was unusual.
She looked like a child who had been scolded every time she dared to cry…
Catherine sighed deeply. Whenever she thought of Harriet, a sigh seemed to escape her involuntarily.
“Initially, I assigned her those tasks for reflection and behavioral correction. However, having observed her thus far, I see no reason to continue treating her differently from the other Ladies.”