Chapter 24 Country Life 18 St. Stephen’s Tavern and the Ambitious People…

"The reason was that the house was located in an area that happened to be included in a new municipal development plan, and its value increased exponentially. Her husband also renovated it without her knowledge before divorcing her. He claimed in court that the value of the renovations, combined with the increase in value due to policies after the marriage, far exceeded the purchase price of the house when Mrs. M was single."

"Their prenuptial agreement stated that Mrs. M's premarital property remained hers, but postmarital property automatically passed to her husband's family under common law. Mrs. M shrewdly avoided acquiring any real estate or stocks after the marriage, but overlooked the note her husband had carefully inserted: substantial improvements to premarital real estate could be considered marital property, depending on the circumstances."

When Heather read this for the first time, she put the letter down angrily and took a long time to calm down.

This scheming man had surprisingly easily acquired a luxury home. The fact that this house was included in the municipal development plan suggests it's in a prime location, and the price should be quite high. Mrs. M was completely out of pocket.

Heather read on with anticipation for the lawyer, hoping that he could help Mrs. M get back what she deserved.

"However, after studying the prenuptial agreement, I discovered a common prerequisite for the agreement: the foundation of a contract lies in the honest disclosure of key facts by both parties. When one party intentionally conceals material facts that could affect the other party's judgment, the contract is invalid. Upon careful review, we discovered that Mrs. M's fourth husband concealed the fact of his substantial prenuptial debt, which not only invalidated the agreement but also constituted "factual fraud." Ultimately, Mrs. M was able to regain her house and successfully escape her ex-husband's debts."

Every time she reread this, Heather felt so excited that she wanted to applaud the lawyer.

What insight! What a sense of justice! She could almost imagine Mr. Lancaster impressing the Lord Chancellor with his impassioned speech in court!

Mr. Lancaster concluded: "Although Mrs. M's ex-husband did not get what he wanted, this serves as a lesson for everyone: women with substantial wealth must be cautious when remarrying. A moment of negligence may lead to a complete loss."

Well, what is certain is that Mr. Lancaster certainly did not want to waste time and effort on another lawsuit like this, so he used this story in advance to warn his employer not to make the same mistake.

Heather felt that she had indeed gained something, and Charlotte's words today also made her realize the importance of the house, so she picked up her pen and added a paragraph to the reply letter she had already written.

Heather had been writing this reply letter intermittently for almost three days, and it was only then that it became about the same length as Mr. Lancaster's letter.

Mr. Lancaster seems cold as ice, but Heather suspects that there may be a chatterbox underneath, because his letters are always as long as a short story and tend to be longer.

As a courtesy, Heather always tried to write back a letter of the same length.

Mr. Lancaster could fill this number of words with two or three cases, but Heather had very little to say. At first, she even wanted to copy a botanical illustration to take up a certain amount of space, but in the end she decided to use a daily account of country life to make up the word count.

She often felt that the contents of these replies were even richer and more detailed than what she wrote in her diary. After all, she was often too lazy to write in her diary for the day, but she always put all the big and small things that happened that week into the replies.

She had gotten into the habit of adding a little to the letter every day until she had met the planned word count before sending it out.

A lot happened today, so there's plenty of room to add more words.

"My conversation with my neighbor this afternoon reminded me of Mrs. M's story. I suddenly felt that the first thing I should do after acquiring the property was to own a house of my own as soon as possible. You might wonder why I suddenly had such an idea. It's because this afternoon, under the scorching sun and dust, I received a seemingly plausible marriage proposal from a relatively upright militia major."

As was her custom, Heather would have spent at least three hundred words describing Major Brown in all his details, just as she had described that stupid scumbag Davis.

But this time her word count was almost up, and she was feeling sleepy, so she decided to skip the details.

"It doesn't matter who he is, because I've already rejected this unpleasant proposal. I just want to say that it has served as an opportunity for me to realize that if I ever get married again, it's absolutely necessary to buy my own house before marriage. Even if I'm not as lucky as Mrs. M to get a house in a planned area, at least I can have my own space. However, I will remember to ask my respected lawyer to review the prenuptial agreement before my next wedding to avoid being scammed like Mrs. M did."

"If possible, Mr. Lawyer, I hope you can recommend some suitable areas for living in London so that I can do my homework before I come back. I believe you can do anything."

After Heather finished writing, she folded the four pages of letter paper she had written before, stuffed them into the envelope, and then lay down on the bed contentedly, letting out a comfortable sigh.

The clock on the wall showed that it was already eleven o'clock in the evening. The whole of Longbourn finally became quiet, with only the faint chirping of insects in the distance.

Heather closed her eyes and thought for a while, then suddenly jumped up from the bed. With disheveled hair, she sat down at the desk and added the last sentence.

"There's one more thing I forgot to mention. Longbourn is hosting an autumn hunting convention this Saturday. I heard it will be the most important hunting event of the year, with many hunters and military officers participating. This will be the most anticipated event of the week. Finally, I look forward to your story next time. Good night, sir."

The letter was picked up by the postman the next morning. It would have taken about two days to deliver to an address in Westminster, London. Heather was very unfamiliar with the place and had hardly ever set foot in that area during the few years she had lived in London.

But in fact, the letter was delivered to Mr. Lancaster's secretary six hours after it arrived at St. Albans Post Station near Longbourn.

Because from the time he sent the first letter from Lancaster, he sent someone to the post office to advance a large sum of money as three months' expenses, and the post office promised to send a special rider to deliver the letter from Mrs. Lawrence of Longbourn separately to ensure that the recipient could see it on the desk that evening.

Late at night, many carriages were still parked in front of the mansions near Grosvenor Square, the center of London's aristocratic district. The coachmen and servants of each family gathered in groups of three or four on the street to brag and chat, inquire about the gossip of the owner's family, and secretly share a few sips of malt liquor hidden in their pockets.

This season is the end of London's social season, with the Almack Ball, horse racing week and opera season taking turns to bombard, making it a critical period for unmarried men and women to find a spouse.

Therefore, Grosvenor Square would be bustling until at least three in the morning before it would completely die down.

However, the busiest people this season may not be the unmarried young people and their mothers who come from all over the place, but perhaps the parliamentarians who are "busy with a lot of affairs every day".

Because the parliamentary session and the social season coincided cleverly, some of them would attend club breakfast activities in the morning, watch parliamentary debates in the afternoon, and then go to social dances with their wives and children after voting in the evening to ensure that the family's glory could continue smoothly.

Fortunately, most of them are not essential figures to support the operation of the country. The meetings of the House of Commons usually start in the afternoon, and important debates are concentrated on Tuesdays or Thursdays, so for them, late-night dances may be their main battlefield.

In addition to finding a suitable ally through unmarried children, the card room is also an important place for exchanging interests and sharing intelligence.

But Mr. Lancaster was obviously not among them. His secretary had a pile of invitations to balls that Miss Bingley and other new money were eager to get, but the number of balls he attended during the entire social season could be counted on one hand.

After all, he had neither the need for marriage nor the obsession with continuing his family's status, and most of the time he did not need to gather intelligence through socializing.

Moreover, he was extremely busy this season. In addition to his daily court sessions, as a key figure in the political arena, he had to participate in almost all important issues and some secret meetings.

It can be said that his get off work time is usually only an hour earlier than those young people who start dancing at ten o'clock in the evening. When the young men and women end their ambiguous relationship, Lancaster has already worked for more than twelve hours.

The carriage passed through Glover Square and ten minutes later stopped at a top mansion next to Hyde Park.

There are few buildings here, and of course few people can enter Hyde Park at this time, so living here will not be disturbed by the noise of the social season.

When Lancaster saw the familiar envelope on the desk, most of the day's fatigue and irritability disappeared.

The parliamentary session was drawing to a close, and the most important issues had been voted on, but he could hardly remain calm as long as some foolish MPs did not disappear from London and return to their own fiefdoms.

In a sense, Heather Lawrence's letters are a panacea for adjusting mood and relieving fatigue.

At first, the lady's letters were always concise and businesslike. He couldn't see her expression as he could in a face-to-face conversation, and Lancaster always felt that their relationship was only one of employment.

So he thought of a way.

From one time on, he deliberately extended the length of his letters to more than three times the normal length. He thought that even out of courtesy, she could no longer send him off with that short half-page paper.

Sure enough, her replies began to become longer and longer.

The longer she talked, the harder it became to hide her true self, and the more she talked, the more interesting he found her.

Heather Lawrence was clearly a native Englishman, but having been away for over a decade, she seemed to have forgotten almost everything that had happened before. She was interested in everything and could discuss a case she had just casually written down with great enthusiasm for a long time.

Her questions are all kinds of strange and her ideas are always unexpected. Sometimes they are childish and funny, and sometimes they have a unique effect.

Lancaster was not an out-of-touch young master. During his rebellious adolescence, he traveled almost all over Britain and was no stranger to ordinary villages like Longbourn and ordinary small landowners like the Bennett family.

But Mrs. Lawrence's reply is particularly interesting, even though she sometimes seems like a nagging and clumsy travel writer, and in many places she seems to have racked her brains to meet the word count.

If one of Lancaster's subordinates had wasted his time with something like this, he would have made that person regret entering his office. But when it came to Mrs. Lawrence, he would take it out and review it from time to time, even silently correcting those unbearable grammatical errors on her original copy.

This was unusual, Lancaster understood, but he had no time to think about it. Perhaps it was because he was too busy recently, or perhaps it was for some other reason, anyway, reading her letter was at least a pleasant thing.

However, today's letter made Lancaster frown.

First, there was the audacious Davis. The general's grandson? He couldn't remember any living, prominent general named Davis.

Then there was this unknown major, a mere major in a militia regiment. Could he be described as "fairly honest"? How much did a major in a militia regiment earn? Perhaps not even as much as the guard in Hyde Park next door. So what right did he have to dream of proposing to her?

Oh, besides that, there is also the landlord whom she recommended to him to sign the contract, Mr. Darcy.

Although he looks decent, is not completely without wealth, and has obviously received some elite training, he does not have much pioneering thinking or outstanding means in his career. He may be able to make some improvements to the original family assets, but unless there is some special opportunity, he will most likely not be able to achieve the class leap he wishes.

Darcy was at best a quasi-noble, and Lancaster really couldn't understand why he chose to cooperate with him.

Lancaster read the letter again, thought for a moment, and rang the bell to ask the servant outside to call in Evan, his assistant who was staying overnight.

When the butler knocked on the door, Evan had already finished washing up and was about to collapse on the bed. He was completely exhausted today. If the parliamentary session didn't end soon, Lord Lancaster would probably need a new assistant.

Hearing the butler invite him to the study, he felt like he was struck by lightning. He wailed silently, but for the sake of this respectable and well-paid job, he resigned himself to his fate, dressed again, and went to meet his cold-blooded boss.

When Evan arrived, Lancaster was looking at the calendar on the table with his schedule written on it.

There was no small talk, no apology for waking someone up in the middle of the night. Lancaster said bluntly, "Block your time from Friday to Sunday. If you can, move it to another time. If you can't, postpone it. Even if the Prince Regent calls, tell him I need to rest."

His workaholic boss, who worked year-round, actually wanted to take a break? Evan suddenly felt less sleepy and began to wonder if he was hallucinating from overwork.

"You heard me right. I'm going to Longbourn in Hertfordshire for three days' rest. Please help me make the necessary preparations in advance. Then you can stay in London for three days and let Oliver stay with me."

"Three days off? Oh, my God, three full days?!" Evan couldn't control his expression. He only had two days off even for Christmas.

But after he said that, he felt a little worried. Could it be that the boss's second secretary was going to take over and replace him as the number one?

"No... I mean, although three days is a long time, and I need to rest, let me accompany you. Oliver may still be lacking in experience and knowledge."

Lancaster refused his request. "No, in the next few days, go to the London private banks and complete the transfer of Mrs. Lawrence's inherited current deposits and bank drafts. The ecclesiastical court certificate and other documents have been submitted. Ask them how long they will delay. I want to see the account register before Friday. After that, you can go on vacation. You look as bleak as a coal miner."

Evan was very touched. His boss, who used to split one minute into two, actually noticed his physical condition secretly. He must be paying close attention to and paying attention to his chief assistant!

"Lord Lancaster, thank you very much for your concern. I will make good use of my vacation to adjust my condition and will return to work in top condition next Monday. Don't worry about the bank matters; they are just procrastinating out of habit. If we really need to get started, it won't take half a day. Also, besides carriages and daily clothes, is there anything else you need to bring?"

Lancaster wanted to say no, but then he remembered the end of the letter: "Bring your hunting supplies, especially my hunting rifle."

Evan's thinking ability has completely returned to normal.

My boss actually took leave for hunting? That wasn't surprising, as he always took time off every year when he was relatively unbusy to go hunting alone. But he actually went all the way to Hertfordshire to hunt? Was it for Mrs. Lawrence?

Evan didn't dare to ask, but just agreed respectfully.

As he left the study, he secretly wondered, could it be that Lord Lancaster was really tired of being the Lord Chancellor and couldn't help but change his taste and play the role of a lawyer to satisfy his desire?

I have to say, the boss is the boss, he is really energetic!

Lancaster had intended to write a letter the next day to express his intention to visit Longbourn. Although he secretly hoped to give Mrs. Lawrence a little surprise, it was not in line with gentlemanly etiquette to come uninvited.

But the next day, someone came to solve his problem.

Mr. Darcy, who co-invested in the canal, sent a message requesting a brief meeting with the lawyer to exchange new information on the current canal project.

Lancaster realized that he might not have to call on Longbourn uninvited, so he took half an hour out of his busy schedule between two meetings to meet with Mr. Darcy.

Darcy was accustomed to Lancaster's busy schedule, because his previous three conversations with the lawyer had all been precisely within the pre-specified time frame, and the longest one was no more than forty-five minutes.

Darcy felt that there was something strange about the lawyer from the beginning.

Darcy learned from Mrs. Laurence that Lancaster was an excellent, reliable lawyer specializing in property matters. There was no doubt about this; anyone who spoke to him for more than five minutes would not question his legal expertise.

But Darcy felt that, rather than a lawyer who was often in a hired position, this Mr. Lancaster was more like an upper-class aristocrat who had long held a high position and was accustomed to giving orders.

During conversations, Mr. Lancaster always waits silently for the other party to explain the reason. He rarely offers options and seems only willing to comment on the ideas stated by others.

Even his comments were brief and to the point, and although his words were polite, they always gave people a sense of condescending scrutiny.

This scrutiny never even offended Darcy himself; on the contrary, he always subconsciously chose to follow Mr. Lancaster's guidance.

Yes, from Mr. Lancaster's few words, we can feel that he is not only accomplished in property law, but he is also well versed in the complex legal regulations in various fields.

In addition, he seemed to know all the important people in London, and even in the UK, very well. He could easily point out the interest relationship between one person and another, and comment on the key figures in an event.

The three meetings in the past had not lasted more than two hours in total, and Mr. Lancaster had spoken for no more than half an hour, but Darcy felt he had benefited greatly.

After leaving Longbourn, Darcy came to London with determination and ambition, intending to quickly find out the situation of canal investment, but he soon discovered that his past connections were completely useless in this matter.

In a sense, this has transcended his class.

The people he could contact either knew nothing about it or were very secretive about it, which caused him to waste a lot of time like a headless fly. It was not until he received guidance from Mr. Lancaster during his second meeting that he gradually began to find some clues.

The address Darcy received for this meeting was St. Stephen's Tavern on Parliament Street, and the time was from 7:30 to 8:00 p.m.

St Stephen's Tavern is located next to the Palace of Westminster and the Supreme Court, just a three-minute walk from the Palace of Westminster.

This is the source of intelligence rumors and the stronghold of power brokers.

This period of time was the end of the last parliamentary vote of the month. Even though most MPs had gone home to prepare for the last carnival of the evening, St. Stephen's Tavern was still easily filled with MPs and lawyers.

When Darcy arrived, the St. Stephen's Tavern had already begun to limit the number of people entering.

Some gentlemen in suits crowded at the door, cursing under their breath as they reluctantly left, preparing to try their luck at the nearby Red Lion Tavern.

Some people called their friends and were brought in by their acquaintances inside; some tried to bribe the bar waiters and tried their best to get in and find a ladder.

The address and time seemed illogical, but Darcy was used to it. Mrs. Lawrence's lawyer was always unconventional, and their previous meetings had always been at such random times and inexplicable places.

When Darcy stepped forward, the receptionist at the door had just persuaded a guest who wanted to break in. Seeing another new person coming, he first looked up and down at Darcy's clothes, and then began to repeat the speech in a familiar tone and good attitude.

"Sir, I'm sorry, the first floor lobby is now full. There won't be a vacant seat for at least three hours. Unless you have an acquaintance who has reserved a seat in advance, it would be better to go to another tavern."

Darcy took a look inside and silently took out the invitation that Lancaster's lawyer's assistant had sent to him in advance.

It was a very casual invitation, or more precisely, a folded corner of a piece of letter paper. Darcy opened it and saw "Lancaster" scribbled on it with a pen and a vaguely clear stamp.

The receptionist at St. Stephen's Tavern took it, took a look, and immediately asked Darcy to wait a moment.

Soon, an older steward came out, bowed respectfully to Darcy, then walked slightly sideways in front to lead the way for him.

The first floor of the tavern was a bar and a card room. The receptionist hadn't lied. The place was already packed with young elites and aristocratic young masters. It was noisy everywhere. If one more person was put in, a fight might break out due to the crowding.

The blackboard behind the bar revealed a small black market with clearly marked prices. Darcy took a quick glance and saw the words "Judge's expedited fee starts at 200 pounds." He frowned and moved away from the drunkards at the card table uncomfortably. His neat collar and serious expression were out of place here.

He was not completely ignorant of the rules of upper society, but he disdained social flattery and rejected vulgar entertainment, so even though he lived in London for several months every year, he almost never set foot in such places.

Darcy began to doubt why Lancaster chose such a place. Could it be that the lawyer was also a playboy in private?

However, when he was led up the stairs to the second floor, he overturned his previous guess.

The second floor of St. Stephen's Tavern is upscale and much quieter. The distance between each table is very far, which seems particularly uneconomical in such a land-scarce location.

There are oriental-style screens next to the tables, turning each table into a small private room.

The further they went in, the further away they were from the noise of the first floor. It was not until they stopped at the door of a real private room at the back that the steward told him that they had arrived at the "Blue Room".

Darcy suppressed the doubts in his heart, raised his hand and knocked on the door, and only walked in alone after the person inside spoke.

The door closed, and all sounds disappeared, even the elegant piano music that could be heard throughout the second floor. Darcy looked back in surprise at the ordinary, not-too-thick door behind him.

"The walls are stuffed with wool," a cold voice said. "To prevent anyone from eavesdropping with a brass megaphone."

Only then did Darcy see that the atmosphere in the box was completely different from the dimly lit atmosphere outside. It was clean and tidy, without any unnecessary decorations. Next to the bright floor lamp stood a gentleman in a neat suit. It was Mr. Lancaster, holding an unlit Cuban Havana cigar in his hand.

Darcy walked in and bowed slightly. "Good evening, Mr. Lancaster."

Lancaster gestured for him to sit down, but he himself did not move. He did not give Darcy the opportunity to ask some irrelevant questions, and directly said: "What? Didn't you find Crawford?"

Howard Crawford, owner of Birmingham Corporation, the developers of the Birmingham-Liverpool Canal.

This man came from a distinguished family but did not follow the traditional aristocratic path at all. He was the only son of the old Duke of Crawford, but he rode the wave of the Industrial Revolution to go into business and established a considerable business empire.

The old Duke of Crawford was of mediocre qualifications and had little say in politics, but as a hereditary aristocrat with eight generations rooted in London, his network of contacts was extensive.

In this way, young Crawford seized the operating rights of the Birmingham Canal with the gifts from his ancestors and his own shrewd business acumen.

He is a playboy in his forties who has not yet married. Rumor has it that he has at least ten illegitimate children, but he does not acknowledge any of them because he himself is not sure which one is real and which one is fake.

Howard Crawford was one of the paths Lancaster pointed out to Darcy.

Lancaster only told Darcy Crawford one of his addresses and the club where he most often appeared, but it was obviously not an easy task to block and keep such an elusive and busy person.

Darcy spent some time getting to know this man. Young Crawford was quite famous and socialized, and Darcy knew a little about him through some of his father's friends.

"I found him. He was at the house on the Chelsea River. I stopped him at the door."

Darcy sat upright on the only sofa in the box. The sofa was too soft, and it was not easy for him to maintain such a sitting posture.

"Mr. Crawford seemed surprised that someone would be waiting for him there. He asked me how I found the place, and I could only tell him truthfully that a Mr. Lancaster told me. He looked around and let me in."

Darcy paused, thinking that Mr. Lancaster might explain whether he had a personal relationship with Mr. Crawford. However, Lancaster obviously had no such intention. He just leaned against the window and casually observed the Havana cigar in his hand.

Darcy had no choice but to continue: "I talked with Mr. Crawford for about an hour. I told him some of my views on the operation of the canal. He just listened most of the time, but at the end he revealed to me a very important piece of news."

Lancaster put down what he was holding and looked up to signal him to continue. Darcy also showed a hint of excitement when he said this.

"Mr. Crawford said that excluding his own shares, the remaining 40% will be used for internal subscription, with approximately 15 people eligible. The estimated subscription price is 100 pounds per share, and the specific allocation cap will be determined by everyone on the list. These 15 people will automatically have board seats and decision-making power after their shares are registered."

"30% will be decided through auction bidding. There will be a centralized auction in December with a starting price of 120 pounds. There will be 50 bidders available, and about 25 buyers will actually complete the transaction. These shareholders have no voting rights but can resell freely."

"The remaining holders of the subscription rights but who were unsuccessful in purchasing shares through the first two methods will be entitled to purchase the remaining 30% of the shares at a fixed issue price of £150. A cap will be set based on the number of remaining holders. Such shares cannot be resold within five years, will be at the bottom of the dividend distribution list, and will have no voting rights."

This rule almost completely determines the final benefits and power. Buyers who also have subscription rights can obtain multiple benefits compared to buyers who purchase the remaining parts. More importantly, they can enter the real inner circle.

Those who don't understand the rules might miss out on the opportunity to be on the internal subscription list, or even lose out in the public bidding. Of course, those who don't even understand the internal rules can't be included in the internal subscription list.

This is not only a money transaction, but also an information war, a confrontation of power, capital, status and connections, which can make anyone with ambition and aspirations excited, and Darcy is no exception.

"The rules are very clear." Lancaster leaned against the windowsill. Behind him was one of the busiest streets in London at night. The dark blue velvet-like night sky was dotted with dense lights. He looked like the protagonist in the center of the stage.

"So, which category are you going to choose?"

Darcy didn't hesitate; he'd already thought it through. "Of course, the first category, the insider subscription rights. I believe even the third category, purely for dividends, would be enviable to many, but I still want voting rights. If I could sit on the board, it would be more than just an investment."

Lancaster raised his eyebrows and said, "What makes you think you can do it? What Mrs. Lawrence has in her hands can only guarantee the basic subscription rights."

Darcy didn't get angry. He paused for a moment, carefully formulating his words, before saying, "I'm truly unsure. In fact, I'm a little confused about Mr. Crawford's intentions, which is why I came here today to ask for his advice. During our conversation, I sensed that Mr. Crawford wasn't opposed to my views, and even appreciated them. However, when I tried to inquire about how I could participate in the internal subscription, he evaded the question, seemingly not believing I was qualified."

Darcy is not afraid of setbacks and does not want to give up easily, but he is a little confused about the future direction. No one around him can solve his problem, and his good friend Bentley is probably helpless, so he can only come to ask Lancaster.

"Mrs. Lawrence can offer an original stake in the most profitable canal already in operation in Britain. What about you, Mr. Darcy? What do you have that others don't have that would make Crawford willing to give you this opportunity, despite the requests of those princes and nobles?"

Lancaster's words were blunt, but his tone was calm and objective, without a trace of emotion.

Darcy fell into deep thought for a moment. He understood that as the son of a duke, Crawford was never short of money and land, and those were exactly what he had most to offer.

Lancaster took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Twenty minutes had passed. He didn't have time to be a confidant brother anymore.

He interrupted Darcy's thoughts and abruptly changed the subject: "I heard that Longbourn is holding an autumn hunting event. It just so happens that I haven't participated in a large-scale hunt this year. What do you think, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy looked up at Lancaster in confusion. The topic changed so quickly that he couldn't react for a moment.

"Uh... hunting? My friend Mr. Bingley in Longbourn did write to me about it, but I didn't agree immediately. I want to stay in London and contact Mr. Crawford or other people who know the situation."

Lancaster said: "The parliamentary session is about to end. Crawford will not be in London this month. Why don't you go and relax and think about the problem I just mentioned."

Darcy didn't quite understand why the lawyer, who never exchanged pleasantries, suddenly became concerned about his physical and mental health. He tried to judge and said tentatively, "You really should relax. If Mr. Lancaster is not busy, I sincerely invite you to spend your vacation in Netherfield. You can also join the hunting at Longbourn. Longbourn has a unique rural atmosphere this season."

Lancaster readily agreed and made an appointment with Darcy to set out together on Friday morning and arrive at Longbourn at noon.

Lancaster walked over and gave a faint polite smile. "Thank you for your invitation, Mr. Darcy. But it's already 7:52, and I have other things to do next. I'll have my assistant take you out first. If you have any other questions, we can talk on Friday, how about that?"

Darcy happily agreed. He planned to prepare the questions he wanted to ask in advance and take advantage of the long time in the car to consult Mr. Lancaster.

When Darcy opened the door of the box, his assistant Evan was already waiting at the door.

Evan's attitude is much friendlier than his boss's.

"Mr. Darcy, please wait a moment. I will ask Mr. Lancaster for instructions and I will take you down immediately."

When the door closed again, Darcy realized that there was another woman standing at the door.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman, and her attire was equally striking. She wore a dazzling array of jewelry from head to toe, the large ruby ​​earrings impossible to ignore. These jewels stood out in the dim light of the second-floor lobby. Her hair was piled high on her head, and her collar was low, revealing ample skin.

She didn't look young, at least over 35, and her appearance and dress were both aggressive. But her eyes were very friendly, her smile seemed particularly sincere, and her speech was gentle, polite, and unhurried.

She met Darcy's eyes and greeted him naturally: "Mr. Darcy, huh? That's what I just heard you called. Good evening. Do you seldom come to London?"

Darcy saluted and gave a brief response, and Evan pushed the door open.

He first said to the lady, "Mrs. Mason, the gentleman said you can leave after you give me your things."

Mrs. Mason didn't say much. She handed the large manila envelope containing the documents to Evan and turned to leave.

After Evan got it, he led Darcy down a hidden staircase next to the box. This staircase was reserved for regulars of the "Blue Room" so that they didn't have to go through the noisy lobby on the first floor.

As Darcy walked down the stairs, he heard the discussion coming from behind.

"Who is that woman?"

"You don't even know this. That's the famous Lady Madeline Mason. She looks really well. It seems her divorce case was really successful."

"Ah? It's her. Then who was in that box just now? Even Madeline Mason wasn't allowed in."

"Maybe it's her next prey, hahaha."

Darcy couldn't help but look back and secretly memorized the name.

Famous? Prey? Could she be Mr. Lancaster's client? Would the lawyer just turn away his client so arrogantly? Darcy decided to go back and try to find out.

However, when he was about to set off on Friday, he had not found any useful information.

At eight o'clock on Friday morning, Darcy got into Mr. Lancaster's carriage with the legal and financial problems he had written in his notebook in advance.