Chapter 7
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 7
“Leave your room and head straight to the right. You’ll see stairs on your left. Go down, and it’s right there. I will inform you of your duties after breakfast tomorrow, Sister. Please finish unpacking your luggage by the end of the day.”
Harriet nodded. As anxious as she was, she had a dozen questions, but she sensed that asking any more would only earn her a cold rebuke.
Emma turned and left without another word of explanation.
Harriet stood blankly for a long moment. Only when her hands began to ache from the weight of her bags did she slowly sink onto the edge of the bed.
“It’s so hard…”
The bed was little more than a wooden board topped with a thin blanket, offering no comfort whatsoever. The furniture filling the room was crude and weathered, and the single window was small and fitted with a heavy storm shutter, suggesting the room rarely saw the sun.
“Here… for a whole year…”
One year. 365 days. 8,760 hours.
“Ha…!”
As she tallied the numbers, reality finally crashed down on her. A hollow laugh escaped her lips, followed quickly by a burst of tears.
Unsure when Emma might return, Harriet pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and hastily wiped her eyes. But as the cloth covered her face, the loneliness and despair she had been holding at bay finally surged over her.
“Mama… Papa…”
The faces she missed so desperately flickered behind her eyelids—the ones she had deliberately tried not to think about, fearing the ache of their absence. She yearned for her parents, who had left this world so abruptly, leaving a twelve-year-old Harriet all alone.
“Oh, Mama, what do I do? I’m so scared. Papa, please… please just take me with you!”
The sorrow she had suppressed for so long finally breached the dam of her heart. Ever since her parents died, Harriet’s life had twisted and turned against her will. She had pleaded that it wasn’t fair, but her cries had met only silence.
“Mama… hic… Mama…”
As she collapsed onto the bed, sobbing, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
Harriet caught her breath, stifling her sobs instantly.
“I’m leaving your clothes and your meal here.”
It was Emma.
Harriet heard the sound of something being placed on the floor, followed by the receding rhythm of Emma’s footsteps.
Harriet stayed there for a long time, muffling her mouth with her handkerchief, before she finally rose and opened the door.
On a wooden tray set upon the floor lay a neatly folded brown nun’s habit, a bowl of thin vegetable soup, a loaf of rye bread, pickled olives, a small dish of honey, and a glass of water.
Harriet brought the tray inside and sat at the small table. Outside the window, the sky was clear and bright—a cruel contrast to her own heart.
Crying won’t change a thing, so why won’t the tears stop?
Every time she felt like this, the world felt impossibly cold. She wanted to run away, but she was too afraid to choose death, and though she desperately wanted a better life, she had no idea how to achieve it. No matter what she did, people twisted her intentions, and no one ever bothered to listen to her side of the story.
I don’t have an appetite, but I should eat. If I leave it untouched, they’ll just scold me for being ungrateful…
Not wanting to give them another reason to misunderstand her, Harriet weakly tore into the rye bread. Unlike the soft white bread she was used to, it offered no resistance, splitting apart with a dry snap.
It looks so parched.
This kind of bread was usually sour and coarse. To mask the taste, she spread a generous dollop of honey over the surface.
Let’s just get this over with.
Harriet put the bread in her mouth and chewed mechanically, eating only to fill the void in her stomach. The sweet scent of honey faded quickly, but to her surprise, there was no sour or unpleasant aftertaste. In fact…
It’s actually… good?
The crust was crispy and savory without a hint of char, and the seemingly coarse interior released a clean, nutty flavor the more she chewed. It was a bit dry, but it was the perfect companion to the soup.
The soup is surprisingly good, too. What’s in this?
Stirring it with her spoon, she found cabbage, several types of beans, tomatoes, onions, carrots, and pumpkin. There wasn't a scrap of meat to be found no matter how hard she looked, but it suited her palate far better than the heavy, greasy stews served at the mansion.
As Harriet worked through the bread and soup, she picked up a pickled olive and popped it into her mouth.
“Mmm!”
Perhaps because it was made with fresh ingredients, the olive was tangy and rich, bursting with flavor. A small exclamation of delight escaped her. When she took another bite of the honey-slathered bread, the combination of sweet and salty was divine.
“Wow, this is delicious!”
Before she knew it, Harriet was engrossed in her meal. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten with such genuine relish at the Listerwell estate.
Using the last piece of bread to wipe the soup bowl clean, Harriet looked down at the spotless tray and felt a flush of embarrassment. Then, the absurdity of it struck her, and she let out a small chuckle.
I was just crying my eyes out, and now I’m devouring food like a glutton just because it tastes good.
The laughter made her feel human again. A faint glimmer of hope began to settle into the future that had felt so bleak only moments ago. Hadn’t she just proven that one of the things she feared most—the food—was actually excellent?
If that was true, perhaps other things would turn out better than she feared.
Let’s look on the bright side. If I stay here, at least I won’t be Bella’s plaything.
She remembered vowing that she would marry a dying old man if it meant escaping her uncle’s house. By that logic, her current situation was a luxury.
As long as I’m away from Bella, my life will improve. For one year, no scandals will be tied to my name. Maybe, just as Uncle said, a decent marriage proposal might actually come my way.
She was still anxious about the "labor" she would have to perform, but surely they wouldn't force a noblewoman into back-breaking toil.
Besides, the people here have nothing to do with high society. If I just work hard and behave, won’t they eventually treat me with kindness?
With that thought, her racing heart finally calmed. Life here began to feel manageable.
Right. I can do this!
Harriet took a deep breath, stood up, and opened her luggage. She needed to unpack quickly and start familiarizing herself with the convent’s layout.
*
As June arrived, the sunlight began to grow increasingly harsh. However, for those lounging in the shade with cool drinks, the heat was of little consequence.
“Oh! Have you heard the rumor?”
Someone spoke to Cedric as he watched a polo match from beneath the shade of a pavilion. Cedric wasn’t particularly interested in the man, but he reflexively raised an eyebrow, feigning interest. That was all the encouragement the man needed to start babbling.
“It must be welcome news for the Duke. You know that young lady who was so rude to you at the Victory Banquet? She’s been banished to a convent. Saint Clarissa’s, I believe.”
At those words, Cedric’s jaw tightened imperceptibly.
However, the men around him, completely oblivious to the shift in his mood, began to chatter excitedly.
“It seems Viscount Listerwell was truly determined this time.”
“Indeed. That niece of his has been a constant headache for the poor Viscount, hasn't she?”
“That’s right. What was her name again? Bella?”
“No, Bella is the Viscount’s daughter. The niece is Harriet. Both are famous, though for very different reasons. Haha!”
“Bella Listerwell is incredibly popular among the young bachelors. She’ll likely make a grand match, won’t she?”
As the conversation shifted to women, the atmosphere in the pavilion grew boisterous. When the name of Bella Listerwell—the ‘Golden Rose of Genoa’—was mentioned, a lively spark appeared in the men’s eyes.
“She truly is a beauty. And those luscious lips…!”
“Are only her lips luscious? Her curves are dizzying. And that waist is so tiny you could snap it.”
“They say she looks alluring, but her personality is surprisingly pure and kind. Unlike her hideous cousin, who’s man-crazy, Bella supposedly knows nothing of such things.”
“It’s always the way, isn't it? The pretty ones are kind, and the ugly ones are wicked. Oh! Tez, you’d know best, wouldn’t you? You had quite the experience with Harriet Listerwell.”
The man singled out was Tez Roark, a handsome man with black hair and captivating blue eyes, notorious as one of high society’s most infamous rakes. He shrugged, an awkward expression crossing his face.
“It’s not an anecdote I particularly care to revisit.”
The group burst into laughter, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Well, it’s true! Even the great Tez Roark couldn’t tell the two apart and got played!”
“Even in the dark, could Harriet Listerwell really pass for Bella?”
“Do you think he was looking at her face? He must have been busy with other things!”
“Ahahaha!”
Tez offered only a bitter smile and said nothing more. Even so, the men continued to casually disparage both Bella and Harriet, passing judgment on them as they pleased.