Chapter 24
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 24
Harriet’s gaze shifted subtly at the remark.
“If you are referring to my time under my uncle’s roof, then yes. It was… quite difficult.”
Trisha let out a soft, dry laugh at the answer, which bordered on brazen. As she had suspected, her grandniece was no ordinary girl.
She seemed clever, even as a child.
Trisha still remembered the day the Arthur family had come to visit her ailing husband thirteen years ago. Back then, Arthur and Lillian had offered their sincere condolences and encouragement, and nine-year-old Harriet had been as polite as she was adorable.
“Great-aunt Trisha. This is a Lucky Pebble. I found it two years ago, and ever since I picked it up, only good things have happened to me.”
“Oh? It’s a lovely stone.”
“Here. I want you to have it, Great-aunt.”
“Is that so? It must be very precious to you. Why give it to me?”
Harriet had taken a sharp, nervous breath then. She looked at Trisha’s husband, Oster—who was currently holding Arthur and Lillian’s hands—before turning back with a determined expression.
“I’m giving you all my luck. I truly hope Great-uncle gets better.”
Trisha hadn't known how to respond. But as if the small child sensed her hesitation, she pressed the pebble into Trisha’s palm and added one more thing.
“If my luck cannot save Great-uncle, then I hope something good happens to you instead, Great-aunt. I promise, it really is a Lucky Pebble.”
Was it because of that gift?
Trisha, whom everyone assumed would be left adrift after her husband’s passing, became the Head of the Fellon Family according to his final will.
In the years that followed, she had been consumed by the demands of managing the family’s affairs, both internal and external. It was during that whirlwind that news of Arthur and Lillian’s deaths reached her. Information regarding Harriet, who was said to be living with the John family, ceased for several years. It was only three or four years ago that her name began to circulate again—accompanied by a rather disgraceful nickname.
Hadn't they branded this child a shameless ‘Scandal Maker’?
Trisha saw the shadow of that child from thirteen years ago superimposed over the Harriet standing before her now. The same subtle intelligence still flickered in those mysterious eyes—a unique blend of olive and brown.
However, Harriet had never clarified the rumors surrounding her, even through their exchange of letters. Roxana, who had spent five months by the girl's side, also claimed she had never heard the truth of the matter. She had, however, noted one thing:
“No matter how I looked at her, she didn't seem to believe she had done anything wrong. Whether she is truly innocent or simply brazen, I cannot yet tell.”
Trisha understood the situation well enough, but she chose to probe regardless.
“Tell me more about those ‘difficult times.’ Every rumor I’ve heard suggests you tried to lure men by impersonating your cousin, Bella.”
As expected, Harriet’s complexion darkened. Yet, her expression didn't suggest guilt or a desire to hide.
“I have much I wish to say on the matter. Not a single one of those rumors is true.”
“Is that so?”
“But right now, anything I say would likely sound like a one-sided plea. So…” A sharp glint flashed in Harriet’s eyes. “Please, watch me. Observe my actions from this moment forward. When you feel I have earned your trust, ask me again. I will tell you everything then.”
Trisha felt a surge of certainty; she hadn't misjudged the girl. Harriet was as intelligent now as she had been then, and she knew exactly how to navigate the thoughts and expectations of others. There had to be a reason why such a child had been pushed to the point of enduring such ridicule.
“You are quite audacious.”
“I apologize if I seemed impertinent.”
“No. It means you are clever. If you continue to conduct yourself with such poise, I don’t think I’ll have much to worry about, but…”
Trisha trailed off, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized Harriet with an intensity that made the girl tense up. Soon, Trisha’s index finger was pointing up and down at Harriet’s frame.
“We must do something about your appearance.”
“I beg your pardon? Oh…”
Harriet looked down at her attire, her earlobes burning hot. Until she arrived, she had convinced herself her clothes were neat enough to pass. But standing before Trisha, she looked like a disgraced noble straight from the provinces.
She isn't wrong.
Harriet knew she needed new clothes regardless. Her funds were meager, so she would have to choose carefully. She began to recite the plan she had prepared.
“First, I plan to spend some time grasping the current trends of High Society, and then I will have a few pieces made—”
“What an amusing thing to say.”
Contrary to her words, Trisha’s expression was anything but amused. Harriet swallowed hard.
“Did I not make myself clear? I will not tolerate anything that tarnishes my name.”
“Yes, Great-aunt.”
“It is only a matter of time before the world learns I am your guardian. If you walk around looking like that for even a single day, it will be a stain on my honor.”
Harriet’s palms grew damp with sweat. She had only just secured a guardian; if it were revealed she barely had enough money for a single dress, would she be cast out immediately? She tried to find the words to beg for more time, but Trisha’s gaze was so sharp it stole her voice.
“I—I’m sorr—”
“You will begin moving first thing tomorrow. You may be exhausted from your journey, but you did not come here to rest in comfort. Steel yourself.”
“Pardon? I’m truly sorry, but… ‘moving’? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Harriet braced for a scolding, but she had to ask. Trisha looked at her as if she had said something utterly foolish.
“Did I not just say we must do something about that appearance? When on earth were those clothes made? Did you inherit that hat from your mother? And those shoes… Good heavens!”
Harriet curled her toes, suddenly mortified by her worn-out footwear, even if they were hidden from view.
“Overall, your entire ensemble is a failure! You will spend your days visiting dressmakers and shoemakers until you have a proper wardrobe. Do not even dream of stepping out in public in that getup again.”
Harriet’s throat felt parched. The artisans Trisha was referring to were undoubtedly the elite of the city. She had no choice but to confess her status as a virtual beggar.
“Great-aunt. I am truly ashamed to admit this, but… I do not have the funds to commission an entirely new wardrobe right now. However, I will find a way to acquire an outfit that won't embarrass you. Could you please give me a little time?”
“What? What did I just hear?”
“It isn't that I have no money at all. If I sell my necklace and bracelet, I can afford two or three dresses and shoes, so—”
“Honestly!” Trisha shook her head in disbelief.
Harriet squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the thought of the luck she had finally grasped slipping through her fingers.
“Harriet Listerwell.”
“Yes, Great-aunt.”
“Tell me, what exactly is a guardian?”
“I… beg your pardon?”
Trisha snorted. “Who in all of Genoa doesn't know you’ve been left with nothing? Do you think I summoned a child in your position here to demand money from her?”
“Oh. No…?”
“Or did the Johns make you pay every time you needed a new dress?”
“That… was not the case, but…”
“So you are saying I seem more stingy than the Johns?”
“No! Not at all, Great-aunt!”
As Harriet waved her hands in a fluster, Trisha clicked her tongue in displeasure.
“My becoming your guardian means that I am responsible for everything you wear, eat, and where you live until this arrangement concludes. During that time, you will prepare to become splendidly independent, just as you promised. Do you understand?”
Harriet was stunned. Her mind seemed to stall, the logic of the situation failing to click. In her confusion, she blurted out the one question she had intended to save for much later.
“Then what do you gain from this, Great-aunt? Why… why did you truly accept my request for guardianship?”
Her voice grew softer with every word. It was an absurd, almost rude question to ask at this stage. Trisha stared blankly at Harriet, looking incredulous.
“Do I look so destitute that I need to gain something from you? I simply took in a grandniece in a difficult situation because I have the means to do so.”
Then, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, she added, “Or perhaps I am merely repaying a debt.”
“A debt? To me?”
Watching Harriet doubt her own ears, a corner of Trisha’s mouth curved upward. She wondered if Harriet remembered that pebble, which was still resting safely in her jewelry box.
“There is something to it. Regardless, you must be hungry. Eat dinner; I am going upstairs.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Esther!” Trisha called out.
A maid with a demure appearance quietly appeared and bowed.
“Please show Harriet to her room. And remember, she is my grandniece. See that everyone treats her with the respect she is due.”
With those final instructions, Trisha left the drawing room. The maid, Esther, approached Harriet, who remained bowed in a respectful farewell.