~Chapter 20~
Harriet was the first to speak.
Cedric carefully studied her, looking at her in disbelief, as her appearance didn’t resemble that of a noblewoman at all. It wasn’t until Harriet’s patience was wearing thin that he finally opened his mouth to speak.
“I’ve heard the news.”
“What news?”
She asked, even though she already knew.
Instead of responding directly, Cedric said something entirely different.
“It wasn’t my intention, but I feel some responsibility for what has happened. So, if you wish to become a nun, I’m willing to support your seminary tuition and living expenses.”
“What?”
“If you want to live as a regular person, I’ll provide you with a settlement fund instead, to help you start your new life.”
Harriet stared blankly at Cedric, stunned by such an unexpected offer. He didn’t seem to be mocking or teasing her, but it was hard to believe. So she asked again.
“Are you serious?”
“Does anyone joke about things like this?”
“Yes.”
My uncle did exactly that.
Harriet barely managed to swallow the words that rose to her throat, but Cedric seemed to notice the slight frustration on her face. He quickly regained his composure.
“I’m not joking. But there is a condition.”
Of course, there had to be. However, the condition wasn’t much of a condition at all.
“Just don’t mention my name anywhere else. Including the commotion from the last time we met.”
“Oh.”
Harriet nodded absentmindedly before letting out a small laugh.
“Is that what you’re worried about? Afraid I’ll go around badmouthing you?”
Even though Cedric frowned slightly and narrowed his eyes, Harriet didn’t feel scared at all.
Considering that she might have to return to Genoa soon, she knew she should be more cautious. But having recently learned the truth about her parents’ deaths, she felt reckless, like she had nothing to lose.
“I do appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Oh! And don’t worry—I won’t go around tarnishing your name. I won’t say a word about you.”
“…Did the condition offend you?”
“It’s not pleasant, but that’s not the only reason I’m refusing.”
The smile disappeared from Harriet’s lips.
“I’m not going to become a nun. Why should I, for someone else’s sake? No, I’m going to return and make sure that I…”
She clenched her fists tightly. But she didn’t dare throw around the word “revenge” so carelessly. After all, she couldn’t trust the man sitting in front of her.
As she gritted her teeth and tried to suppress the anger rising within her, Cedric asked, “Even if you go back to Genoa, you’ll still need some money to get settled.”
“I’ll manage with the money I have now.”
“My lady,” Cedric sighed.
“Letting pride get in the way at a time like this is not a wise choice.”
Those words sparked a fire in Harriet’s eyes.
“I’ve lived without pride until now. And look where it got me. That’s why I’m trying to hold onto it for once. What, does that seem ridiculous to you?”
Cedric stared at her for a long time, his face stiff, while Harriet met his gaze without backing down. In the end, Cedric was the first to look away.
“It wasn’t my intention to wound your pride. If you’re so determined, I can’t force you.”
He stood up, as though all his business at St. Clarissa Convent was finished.
After Cedric left, Harriet returned to her room and pulled the blanket over her head. She wasn’t doing it to cry, but simply because it was cold.
The worn-out sleeves someone had given her helped keep her hands from freezing, but she still didn’t have enough warm clothing.
“If only he’d brought a scarf or gloves, I would’ve taken them without a second thought.”
Grumbling, Harriet clutched the blanket tightly around herself. She had put on a brave start in front of the duke, but the truth was, her situation wasn’t great. Even someone who had once looked down on her had come offering charity—what did that mean?
‘It must be common knowledge by now that Harriet Listerwell is finished.’
Harriet made up her mind to write a letter to “that person,” asking for their guardianship.
‘I met them once when I was younger… I wonder if they’ll remember me?’
The person Harriet had thought about for days and ultimately decided to reach out to was Countess Tricia Phelan. She was the iron-willed woman who had single-handedly taken control of the Phelan family, and she was also Harriet’s great-aunt.
Due to her husband’s poor health and perhaps the rarity of children in the Phelan line, the couple had no children, and her husband had passed away more than ten years ago.
In the old days, the title would have immediately gone to the nearest male relative after the husband’s death. But recently, there have been cases where the wife was given control of the family after her husband’s death, allowing her to rule as the head of the household until a successor was chosen. Tricia was one such case.
‘The fact that she has no family besides herself means I only have to win over Aunt Tricia.’
Convincing one person would be much easier than persuading an entire family. However, there was a problem: Tricia was notorious for her difficult personality.
Rumor had it that after losing her husband, she had become increasingly strong-willed and arrogant, to the point where she would slam the door in the face of guests who had traveled long distances to visit if they displeased her. She was also said to be unpredictable and quick to insult others.
‘She might burn the letter as soon as she sees my name.’
Even so, Harriet had decided to contact her first because of a distant memory from long ago.
“Hello, I’m Harriet Listerwell. I’m very happy to meet you, Great-Aunt.”
“Oh my! Arthur, you scoundrel! How could you not introduce me to such a charming child sooner? Look at those sparkling eyes; she must be a very clever girl.”
The first time they had met, Tricia had been much kinder than Harriet had expected. In truth, that was almost all Harriet could remember about her, but she had to rely on that one memory.
Harriet got out of bed, still wrapped in a blanket, and sat at her desk, where the letter paper and pen had been waiting since the day before. She quickly rubbed her cold hands together to warm them up, then picked up the pen. Deciding to write the letter had been hard, but writing it was easy.
‘Dear… Great-Aunt Tricia…’
Harriet took her time, trying to make her handwriting as neat as possible. She couldn’t afford to give anyone a reason to criticize her, even for something as small as her handwriting.
She opened with a polite greeting, expressing concern for her great-aunt’s health, considering she was in her mid-sixties. She also mentioned an old memory to remind Tricia of the time they had met long ago.
But Harriet knew that if she rambled too much, it would sound like she was trying to deceive her. So she got straight to the point.
“…I’ve heard that rumors about me have spread throughout the social circles in Genoa. If my wise great-aunt has heard those rumors, you may already have guessed the reason for this letter. I’ll be direct: Great-Aunt, would you be willing to become my guardian? Two years should be enough…”
She assured her great-aunt that she wouldn’t be a burden. All Harriet needed was food, shelter, and a way to re-enter society. There was no need for Tricia to go out of her way to do anything for her.
Of course, even such a request could leave a bad impression.
‘A niece whose reputation has hit rock bottom because of a scandal suddenly writes a letter like this… Most people would be shocked.’
Or maybe they would pity her. Either way, she expected an answer soon.
‘If Great-Aunt Tricia refuses, next I’ll write to my uncles, Jeremy and Daniel. And if they turn me down, I’ll reach out to my mother’s relatives.’
Her uncles would likely reject her, fearing the disapproval of her uncle John. Her mother’s side of the family was too distant for her to count on them, but she had no other choice but to try.
‘I just have to hope someone with a soft heart will help me, even if reluctantly.’
Thinking of relatives whose names were almost unfamiliar to her made Harriet more aware of how dire her situation was. For a brief moment, she wondered if she should have set her pride aside and accepted Cedric’s offer. But she shook her head.
‘If I take that money, I’ll never be able to hold my head up in front of him.’
She didn’t want to spend her life bowing her head to someone ever again. After all, she had always given in to her uncle, who had promised her a dowry but looked down on her. That had been enough.
‘I’ll figure it out somehow. And if everyone rejects me… I’ll go there myself and beg.’
Harriet folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope, determined to do whatever it took, even if it meant camping out in front of someone’s house for days. Tomorrow was the perfect time to send it since the mail coach was coming.
The busy and lively atmosphere of the Festival Week carried on into the first week of the new year. During this time, people visited relatives, held small gatherings with friends, and sent cards and letters to check in on each other. The postal service was especially busy during this period, sorting through all the holiday mail.
At the Phelan estate, the butler, Andre, was sorting through a bundle of letters delivered by the postal worker, deciding which ones to give to his mistress and which ones he could handle himself.
“There are so many letters. Does the madam really read all of them?” asked a maid who was cleaning nearby.
