Chapter 46 Return to London 8 “You always find a way”…
The dresses from Wood's tailor shop arrived just in time for the last morning before the salon. Mary's dress was a canary yellow, and Heather asked Mrs. Johnson to accompany her up to try on her outfit for tomorrow so she wouldn't have to rush into any last-minute changes. She herself intended only to try on the dress to make sure it fit.
When Lancaster came to visit, Heather was admiring her new clothes in front of the floor-length mirror. When she heard the maid come to report, she quickly put down the ribbon in her hand and walked out of the room.
Lancaster had just stepped onto the white carpet in the hallway when he heard a noise above his head. He looked up and saw Heather running down the stairs from the second floor, holding up her skirt.
She used to wear satin dresses in more mature and elegant colors like dark green and silver-grey, but today, the new dress she wore was a misty pine green color she had chosen herself.
Heather immediately fell in love with this color of fabric at Wood's Tailor Shop. Like pine needles in the morning mist, it was a grayish green, not vibrant, yet brimming with a refreshing vitality. It was lighter than a dark green, more subdued than a tender green, perfectly positioned between maturity and youth.
Lancaster paused, his fingers unconsciously stroking the chain of his pocket watch. He had often felt that she was like a painting in the wrong frame. Today, perhaps because of her changed clothes or perhaps because they were more familiar with each other, it was as if the frame had slowly faded, revealing the original appearance within. It was like the mist was dispersing, and he finally got a glimpse of her true appearance.
Heather was in high spirits since she got up this morning. When she ran down the stairs in two steps and came to Lancaster, Lancaster was still in a daze.
"Hey!" Heather waved her hand in front of his eyes. "What's wrong? Is it because you have too much work? Why do you look a little confused?"
Lancaster averted his gaze and said, "The work is far from enough."
Heather suspiciously led him to the study room which she had just decorated according to her own preferences two days ago. Lancaster glanced at the messy small objects on the desk and sat down opposite him.
Lancaster didn't want to report the business directly, so he asked the question in his mind: "Are you...going out for something important later?" Although her hair was just casually tied to one side and she didn't wear any hair accessories, the dress looked like it was carefully chosen.
Heather shook her head. "Not today, but tomorrow. Do you know Kew Gardens? My new neighbor next door has some connections and promised to take me to a plant salon that sounds very interesting."
Lancaster: "Kew Gardens? So you're going to the salon given by Lord Bankes's wife?"
Heather was not surprised by his keen observation. "Yes, I heard that it will be the most grand plant salon of the season, and many new plants just shipped back from overseas will be on display. Those who get the invitation are either people working in the plant world or noble ladies."
At this point, Heather was a little distressed: "Actually, I have been worried these days about how I should introduce my identity. I can say it directly in the countryside of Longbourn, but now the war situation between the two countries is so tense, shouldn't I reveal that Earl Lawrence is French?" It might be useless to ask her family about this matter. The only person around her who she could ask for help with confidence was Lancaster.
Lancaster's Adam's apple moved slightly. "That Earl Lawrence... to be honest, I know very little about him."
Heather thought, me too. If it weren't for the dream last time, she would have always thought that Earl Lawrence was a simple but unfortunate good man. God knows, in the first two months after she came, she sincerely wished that her ex-husband who gave her money for nothing would be reborn soon every time she went to church.
"Uh..." Heather bit her lip and concluded with difficulty, "Anyway, he should have planned to move his family to England a long time ago. I heard that his family is an old Bourbon noble family and has a great feud with the Jacobins, but he couldn't escape it in the end."
Lancaster carefully observed Heather's expression and said, "In that case, although this identity may be somewhat sensitive, it can easily be turned into an advantage if used effectively. The British aristocracy has always regarded the Great Revolution as a threat to civilization and generally sympathizes with the exiled French aristocracy. They are hostile to the new aristocracy that has been supported. In addition, if he has already made efforts to transfer his property to the UK, and you are a native Englishman, your empathy for the victims will easily make you accepted into London social circles."
Heather breathed a sigh of relief. So that's how it was. It seemed that her dead husband had done a good thing.
"Oh, by the way, there's one more thing I must tell you." Heather remembered a key omission: "I suddenly remembered that my husband should have an illegitimate child in France. Do you think this will affect my inheritance?"
Lancaster didn't understand why she "suddenly remembered" such an important thing just now, but this new information made him happy. The fact that she could calmly say the word "illegitimate child" at least meant that her relationship with her ex-husband might have broken down long ago.
"Don't worry. It's not so easy for a French-born illegitimate child to steal property from Britain right now. If he were to take it away, it would be like giving money to the enemy. Don't worry, I will plan ahead."
Heather was immediately relieved: "Then it all depends on you!" She poured Lancaster another cup of tea and started asking about other things. Since they were both in London, it would be strange to write letters every day when they were so close, so she had accumulated a lot of questions that she didn't ask in time.
An hour later, Heather suddenly realized that Lancaster had sent the visiting card yesterday to talk about Mr. Bingley.
"Ah! It's almost eleven o'clock. Have I talked too much?" Heather looked at the clock on the wall in frustration. "I heard that Mr. Bingley's case has made some progress, right?"
Lancaster didn't care about time at all. Although he still had a pile of daily work and two private meetings waiting for him, he didn't mind chatting for a while longer.
"It's okay. I've already investigated the Bentley case, and it's somewhat related to the smuggling case we uncovered earlier. Thompson, the man who sold him the land, used the money to collude with others to smuggle gold. I calculated that he had 15,000 pounds. He bought gold dust on the black market and shipped it to France to sell. Based on the current exchange rate difference, after deducting a 10% commission, he could make around 2,500 pounds. Compared to legitimate investment channels, this profit margin is astonishingly high. However, after we discovered the gold dust smuggling channel in the back mountains last time, crackdowns were stepped up everywhere. Because of this, Thompson was arrested before the bank came knocking."
Heather thought to herself, "So there really is a butterfly effect going on here." She quickly asked, "Then why is Mr. Bentley being sued? I don't think he's aware of this."
Lancaster took a sip of tea before slowly speaking, "Whether or not he's related to him isn't important to those people at all. Thompson's been apprehended. His investments didn't work out, so he went bankrupt. Those people can't get anything out of him. But Bentley still has money. Intimidating him with connections and gifts costs money, hiring a recommended lawyer costs money, and getting a certificate of innocence from the relevant authorities costs money. He's connected to smugglers, so it's not that easy for him to get away without paying a penny."
Heather's face turned pale. Only then did she truly feel that the "rules" of this era were completely different from the laws written in black and white in the world she was familiar with.
Lancaster realized that his explanation seemed to scare her, so he stopped talking in suspense. "But don't worry, it's not a big deal. Mr. Bingley is still too young. Anyone with a few connections in London would be able to handle it quickly. No one will bother him again."
Heather was still lost in the powerlessness of those in power, unable to distinguish right from wrong, when she unexpectedly saw such a sudden turn of events. "Huh? So soon? You didn't lose anything, did you?"
Lancaster said vaguely: "It's just a few people I found. It's okay. Favors are meant to be used. By the way, some of the smuggled gold powder was dumped into the sea by the smugglers, and perhaps some of it was swallowed up by some unknown party. In short, only about 3,000 pounds worth of gold powder was brought back. The Anti-Smuggling Bureau agreed to return it all at a discount. It depends on whether Bentley wants land or money. If he wants money, the land will belong to the bank, and the bank will give him another 2,000 pounds. After all, the land is worth only 7,000 pounds at most after the auction; if he wants land, he will need to pay the bank another 2,000 pounds. There is no rush about this. Let him make a decision after he thinks it over." As he spoke, he handed a document with a detailed plan to Heather.
This solution is much better than the previous one. Although Mr. Bentley suffered some losses, he was not seriously injured.
Heather knew that Lancaster's ability to handle this matter, which involved a large number of interested parties and could be big or small, so quickly must not be as simple as he said. Perhaps only he himself knew how much effort he had put into it.
"You..." Heather paused, her fingertips unconsciously brushing across the cover of the document, "You always find a way to deal with these things." There was an admiration in her tone that she didn't even realize.
She raised her eyes and stared into his. "I'm really thinking now that the compensation I'm giving you is too little. You always downplay it so casually, so I can't really tell how much effort you've put in. I often feel too lazy to think about complicated problems now, and I always want you to give me the answers." Heather hesitated. "Will this cause any problems in the future?"
"You've given more than enough."
Lancaster lowered his eyes and straightened the wrinkles on his sleeves. His voice was slightly hoarse with laughter. He turned to look at the sunlight outside the window and said, "Believe me, those nitpicking old men are much more difficult to deal with than you. They are always stingy when it comes to paying, but they are full of tricks when making demands."
Heather couldn't help but laugh. "Really? Then it seems I'm a really good client. I never question you. I believe everything you say, right?"
Lancaster didn't say anything. He tapped his fingers on the table unconsciously a few times. The sunlight slanted down on his face, making his sharp eyebrows a little softer than usual.
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