Chapter 33
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 33
“I’ve heard the whispers—people calling me heartless for severing my guardianship while she was away at the convent. But think about it, Aunt. Could I have possibly done so while Harriet was still living under my roof? If you could only imagine the fuss she would have kicked up…! Ugh, it makes me weary just thinking about it.”
Trisha listened in silence, sipping her tea without offering much of a response. Half-relieved that no sharp retort followed, John feigned a troubled expression.
“Why do you think Harriet suddenly approached you after all this time, Aunt? I hate to say it, but she likely saw you as an easy target—someone she could manipulate because you have no family around to tell you the truth. The girl is a pathological liar; she’s probably already poisoned your mind with slanders against Bella and me. I know her better than anyone.”
“Hmm…”
“You must relinquish your guardianship and drive her out. If you get entangled with her, your peaceful retirement will be ruined. If it’s too difficult for you to handle personally, I will step in and help.”
Trisha, who had remained silent throughout his tirade, finally set her teacup down with a soft clink.
“John. Harriet hasn’t said a single word about you or Bella.”
“What…? Oh, I see. Well, she probably realized her lies would be exposed too quickly if she tried.”
“Is that so? She told me that anything she said would sound like a one-sided accusation. She suggested I simply observe her while she stays here, and if I truly come to trust her, only then should I ask for the truth.”
At those words, John’s heart sank.
“I’m telling you, she’s a master at charming people! She knows exactly what to say to make herself look virtuous…!”
“I think Harriet is right. What you’re telling me now is nothing more than your own one-sided claim.”
Trisha smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting in a sharp arc.
“To me, you and Harriet are currently no different. I will decide who to trust based on your actions.”
“You’ll regre—”
“But John, listen closely.”
She cut him off, the smile vanishing from her face. At the weight of her sudden, piercing gaze, John involuntarily gasped.
“No matter how much you disliked Harriet, how could you sever your guardianship without giving her a single penny? Arthur showered you with so much; how could you turn your back on his only daughter?”
“Turn my back? I raised her for ten years! I’ve more than done my duty!”
“You are aware the law was revised twelve years ago, allowing titles and estates to be passed down to daughters or wives, aren’t you?”
As if a sore spot had been lanced, John began to stammer.
“Arthur died so suddenly he never had the chance to draft a will. Harriet was a minor with no one to champion her cause, which is the only reason you were lucky enough to inherit your brother’s title. Considering that, you should have at least provided her with the funds to live independently!”
Trisha slammed her hand down on the tea table. The force of the blow caused tea to slosh out of John’s untouched cup.
The formidable presence of the elderly woman was so overwhelming that John felt his insides shrivel, like a small child being scolded by a giant.
“That law is practically useless,” John muttered under his breath. “Entrusting a house to a woman… who would do something so preposterous…?”
He only realized where he was sitting after the word "preposterous" left his lips. He was sitting directly across from Trisha Fellon, the lioness of the Fellon family!
He quickly bit his tongue, but the words could not be retracted.
“My husband did that ‘preposterous’ thing,” Trisha said coldly. “And mark my words, more and more will follow suit.”
“Ah, no, that’s not what I meant…”
“You had best leave before that mouth of yours makes an irreversible mistake. Oh, but remember one thing before you go.”
Trisha pointed her index finger directly at John’s face.
“Whatever happened in the past, Harriet is now a child under my protection. If you dare lay a hand on her, I will consider it an act of war by the House of Viscount Listerwell against the House of Count Fellon. Do I make myself clear?”
“What? Aunt!”
“You know better than anyone what happens to those who underestimate me.”
He certainly did. John, who had once tried to wheedle a favor out of Trisha only to be thoroughly humiliated, knew she was deadly serious.
“Now, leave.”
Trisha’s finger shifted, pointing toward the door.
*
Having gained nothing—and having made his situation significantly worse—John stormed out of the Fellon Estate and irritably raked his hands through his hair.
“Damn it! That blasted old hag. The way she’s acting… she must already know about Perilas, mustn’t she?”
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Otherwise, why would Trisha sponsor Harriet? A girl with nothing left to her name.
“Who is she to take it from me? I am Viscount Listerwell! Everything that belonged to my brother belongs to me!”
He gnashed his teeth as he climbed into his carriage. But he didn't head straight home.
There was only one road leading to the Fellon Estate. This meant there was only one way for Harriet, who was currently out, to return.
Nearly an hour passed as he waited in a simmering rage.
Finally, a small carriage bearing the Fellon family crest appeared in the distance. Since Trisha was at home, the only person inside would be Harriet.
John’s coachman, following his prior instructions, pulled his carriage into the path of the oncoming vehicle.
“Stop! Pull over this instant!”
“Whoa, whoa!”
Startled by the sudden obstruction, the Fellon coachman had to yank hard on the reins.
Inside, Harriet nearly tumbled off her seat as the carriage lurched violently.
“What’s happening?”
The Fellon Estate was just ahead; surely it wasn't highwaymen.
Just in case, Harriet’s hand tightened around the small emergency hammer kept inside the carriage. She peered out the window and nearly recoiled. John’s face was visible through the window of the carriage pulled up right beside hers.
“Harriet! Open the door. Now!”
John barked the order from across the gap. Even after a year of deceiving and abandoning his own niece, his face showed not a flicker of remorse.
Harriet momentarily considered using the tool in her hand, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm. Her revenge could not end with mere physical harm.
Harriet opened the carriage window, plastering on her brightest, most innocent smile.
“Uncle? It’s been a long time. What brings you here?”
Irritated by her unyielding composure, John glared at her with pure venom.
He looked as though he might explode, his jaw working as he struggled to find the right words, before finally settling on a low-voiced threat.
“I don’t know what you’re planning by coming back, or how you managed to charm Aunt Trisha, but if you dare try to harm Bella, I will not stand for it. I will use every means at my disposal to hurl you out of Genoa!”
John, baring his teeth as he glared, hadn't changed at all.
He had always tried to crush her like this. If intimidation failed, he would sigh and act the part of the gentle guardian. If that failed, he would criticize, threaten, coax, and then bark orders again.
Back then, with her entire future held hostage by him, she hadn't been able to refuse his unreasonable demands. Her guardianship had been nothing more than a leash.
‘No matter how I look at it, Uncle severing the guardianship wasn’t something to despair over. It was something to celebrate.’
She suddenly regretted wasting so much energy screaming and crying to God in that convent chapel.
Harriet smiled sweetly and tilted her head.
“They say Bella and Young Master Cheslow’s engagement is imminent. I suppose the rumors are true, then?”
“You still bear the Listerwell name, so I trust you won’t do anything to bring shame upon the family. Do not betray my trust.”
“Of course! But you know, Uncle…”
Harriet clenched her teeth. She had to remain calm, but that didn't mean she had to be a doormat.
“You promised me a dowry, the finest dresses, and even wedding gifts in exchange for taking the blame for Bella’s scandals, didn't you? Every time Bella caused trouble, you brought up those promises and asked me to ‘help’ you.”
John paused, but before he could speak, Harriet pressed on.
“I believed those promises implicitly. I never expected to be betrayed so thoroughly.”
“That’s—!”
“Bella would have said it, wouldn't she? ‘The one who believes is the fool.’”
What she hated more than John’s threats and false promises was the memory of Bella standing in the doorway, arms crossed, sneering, “Isn't she a fool?”
How could she ever forget that look? The look that dismissed anyone with good intentions—anyone who wasn't her—as a pathetic joke.
“Of course, I’m not Bella. Naturally. How could I ever be like her?”
How could she ever be like such a devilish girl?
Perhaps Harriet’s accusation struck a nerve, for John’s face twisted into a vile, mocking smile.
“If you feel so wronged, why don't you sue me? Ah, but do you have a shred of evidence? Was that promise ever put in writing? If you just whine that ‘Uncle definitely said so,’ who do you think will take your side?”
“Yes, everyone will just point their fingers and say Harriet Listerwell is talking nonsense again. Because they don't know the truth.”
Harriet leaned closer to the carriage window. Then, looking John straight in the eye, she whispered.