Chapter 22
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 22
The message claimed it wasn’t too late to return—that if she simply apologized to her father, all would be forgiven.
‘Those who have never lost anything never truly understand, even after it’s been snatched away. Well, if she wants to be that foolish, I’m certainly not complaining.’
Suddenly, Harriet came to mind.
Even after her uncle drowned and the Listerwell title passed to Bella’s father, Harriet hadn't realized her new reality for quite some time. She had naturally tried to take the seat of honor and interject in household affairs, still acting as if she were the daughter of Viscount Listerwell.
At first, Bella had been angry, lashing out with sarcastic remarks. But as the days passed and she watched despair settle into Harriet’s eyes, her heart had grown light.
The tea party where she had invited Harriet’s former friends only to introduce Harriet as a mere shadow of her former self—the sheer delight of that day was unforgettable.
‘The moment she realized everything had been taken from her... it was a sight to behold. Daphne will soon be in the exact same state.’
The House of Laurel was influential, so once the rumors died down, Daphne would likely be able to find another engagement. However, the terms would undoubtedly be far worse than those offered by James Cheslow.
Then, someday, she would run into Bella—now the official Mrs. Cheslow—and be forced to bite her lip in envy.
“Pfft!”
Unable to contain herself, a laugh burst from Bella’s lips. James lowered his head, a fond look in his eyes.
“Is something amusing you, Bella?”
“Oh, it’s nothing… it’s just, I feel so wonderful being recognized as your lover by everyone.”
“I should be the one saying that. I’m the one who plucked the Golden Rose of Genoa, so of course I’m the happier of the two.”
The two whispered sweet nothings before sharing a light kiss. Knowing Daphne’s friends were watching, even that brief contact felt incredibly provocative.
*
Meanwhile, something unexpected was happening at Saint Clarissa Convent. Trisha had sent a reply via a personal messenger.
“My great-aunt sent this? Personally?”
“Yes. Please, read the letter first.”
The woman who brought the letter appeared to be in her early thirties, looking far more meticulous and cold than the Trisha Harriet remembered. Even as they exchanged greetings, the messenger didn't offer so much as a polite smile, suggesting she harbored a sentiment bordering on dislike for Harriet.
Harriet nervously unfolded the parchment.
「 To Harriet,
It has been a long time. I shall omit any further greetings.
I never imagined the first letter I would receive from you would be a request for guardianship.
While I found the request quite audacious, it is unthinkable for you, Arthur’s daughter, to be cast out onto the streets as a commoner. Therefore, for the time being, I shall act as your guardian. 」
For a moment, Harriet almost cried out. She had thought it the most likely outcome, but she hadn't expected such easy permission. However, her great-aunt, true to her reputation, was not a soft woman.
「 …Of course, there are conditions. As you will be entering High Society under my name, I will not tolerate any action that brings disgrace upon me.
It seems John did not educate you properly. For the remainder of your stay, you are to thoroughly master everything you need to know under the guidance of the teacher I have sent. 」
‘Teacher’? ‘With’?
Harriet raised her head and looked at the woman sitting opposite her. Only then did the stranger introduce herself.
“My name is Roxana Valbenus. I will be tutoring Lady Harriet for the next five months.”
Would it be rude to think she looked more like a nun than the actual nuns?
Her impeccably clear blue eyes, her pale, almost translucent skin, and her neatly tied brown hair—without a single strand out of place—gave her a severe, slender build. She bore a striking resemblance to the sisters who had spent their entire lives within the convent walls.
“Um… do you happen to know the contents of the letter? It seems you will also have to stay at the convent…”
“I have already received permission from Mother Superior Catherine. I don't know if it is just my imagination, but the Mother Superior seemed to welcome the idea of Lady Harriet receiving an education.”
In truth, Trisha had intended to persuade Catherine by sending a guardianship designation form along with a formal petition, but Catherine had been so relieved that Harriet had found a guardian that she readily accepted Roxana as a special guest.
“It seems she was worried about sending you out into the world like this. I look forward to working with you.” Roxana paused, her gaze sharpening. “To tell you in advance, it would be best to brace yourself. You may find me strict, but this is no time for leisure.”
Indeed, Roxana seemed to have no personal liking for Harriet whatsoever.
However, contempt and aversion from strangers were familiar territory for Harriet. Her chest pricked a little, as it had been a while since she’d faced such coldness, but she knew High Society would be filled with people far worse. She decided to treat this as practice.
“You are teaching someone as lacking as myself, so I have no intention of complaining. I will do my best.”
As expected of someone sent by Trisha, Roxana was an exceptional teacher. She was well-versed not only in etiquette, deportment, and the basic education required for High Society and the Imperial Family, but also in politics, sociology, and economics.
Harriet had studied etiquette and general knowledge with a private tutor for about three years when she was young, and she had picked up more by observing her uncle, so the lessons weren't entirely foreign.
However, the sheer volume of information was staggering. Harriet worked herself to the bone.
She stopped working at the soap workshop and cut back on sleep, wrestling with books all day. She pushed herself to master not just her posture, but the intricate power dynamics and the current social climate of the capital.
Roxana visited Genoa once every two weeks, and it was obvious she reported back to Trisha each time. Harriet couldn't afford a single moment of laziness.
‘This is an opportunity I won’t get again. I can’t let it slip through my fingers!’
Her resolve was further bolstered by Trisha’s replies, delivered through Roxana.
「 Roxana is not an easy woman to please, yet it seems you are keeping up with your lessons. However, do not grow complacent. You have only just laid the foundation. Even after you return to Genoa, you will continue to receive Roxana’s guidance. 」
After exchanging letters a few times, Harriet felt she was beginning to understand Trisha’s way of giving praise.
‘She mentions what I lack more than what I do well, but that’s only because she wants me to improve.’
The reason she realized this was simple: Trisha never criticized her for the sake of being cruel. For someone investing both money and effort, that was a difficult balance to maintain. Consequently, Harriet felt a deep sense of trust and gratitude toward Trisha Fellon.
Roxana, on the other hand, remained distant. Even after five months together, she seemed to suspect—or rather, be certain—that Harriet was the type of person who might stab the Countess in the back someday.
‘It can’t be helped. I don’t expect everyone to understand me.’
It wasn't that she didn't feel the sting of being misunderstood, but there wasn't much Harriet could do about it. All she could do was prove herself through her efforts.
*
Time flew.
It felt like only yesterday that New Year’s greetings were being exchanged, but the ice had melted, flowers had bloomed, and early summer was just around the corner.
On June 1st—a day that had once seemed impossibly far away—Harriet packed her bags, marking the end of her life at the convent.
‘If I hadn't thrown away my old winter shoes, this bag would never have closed.’
Harriet pressed down on the belongings threatening to spill out. Even without the bulky shoes, the bag was full because of the new winter items she had acquired.
Before the first week of January had ended, an anonymous package had arrived containing a muffler, gloves, arm warmers, and socks that fit Harriet perfectly. Though it was sent without a name, she had a feeling she knew the sender.
‘He must have felt truly sorry for me. He didn't seem like the type to do something like this, though.’
The only person in the convent who knew she was facing winter without a muffler was Cedric Kailas. How embarrassing it was to remember her grumbling that he should have brought her gear!
Thanks to that package, she had been able to spend the winter in relative warmth.
‘I’ll have to return the favor someday.’
The fact that he had sent it anonymously suggested he didn't particularly want a thank-you, so she hadn't written a letter. But the small package remained a debt in her heart. He might have sent it lightheartedly, but for Harriet, the battle against the cold had been a matter of survival.
“All done!”
Click. The clasp of her travel bag finally snapped shut.
Harriet set the bag on the floor and slowly looked around the room she had called home for a year. The hard bed, which she once thought she would never get used to, had somehow become comfortable. She had even grown fond of the small, wobbling table and chair.
‘I used to wonder if anyone could actually live in a place like this…’
As it turned out, she had lived quite well.
Because of that, the days ahead didn't frighten her. She had developed the resilience to endure cold and despair; she had learned the skill of crafting small things; and she had acquired the mental fortitude to find comfort in the small, the cramped, and the shabby.