Chapter 51 Return to London 13 Late Night Visitor
At nine o'clock, the Paddington area was immersed in the tranquility of the winter night. The halo of the gas street lamps was brighter than that of Gracechurch Street, outlining the soft outlines of the spires of the brick villas.
Heather wrapped her cloak tightly and leaned against the wall of the carriage. Outside the window, warm yellow candlelight shone through the window frames of the townhouse. In the small garden surrounded by carved iron railings, a thin layer of frost accumulated on the holly bushes, which looked like fine white in the light.
The carriage rolled over the smooth cobblestone road, making a low clatter. Outside the window, scattered snowflakes drifted, landing on the glass cover of the street lamp and disappearing in an instant. Turning the corner in front, they were home. Mrs. Johnson must have warmed the fireplace in advance, and Heather couldn't wait to get back to her warm bed.
When turning the last corner, Heather suddenly leaned against the glass window and looked carefully. There was a man wrapped in a large plush cloak standing under the street light, looking around like a thief.
"Stop the car, stop the car now."
Heather opened the car door and the cold wind rushed in, waking Mary, who was curled up in the corner, from her sleep.
Heather pulled the man who was approaching into the carriage and told the driver to set off quickly.
"No, don't move!" Anna shouted loudly after sneezing loudly.
Heather asked in confusion: "What's wrong? What happened, Anna? Why are you standing here?" She thought at an inappropriate time, could it be that Anna had no money to pay the rent and was kicked out?
Anna obviously hadn't guessed what she was thinking. She just said anxiously, "Someone is waiting for you at my house. I wanted to tell you in advance because I was afraid she would see your carriage coming back and come straight to you."
Heather was full of questions: "She? Who?"
Anna took a deep breath and said, "Mrs. Dorothea Banks, she has been sitting in my living room for two hours. It seems that she must see you tonight."
Heather couldn't help but frown when she heard the name. "She already has everything, why would she come? If she just pays, can't she just have someone deliver it?"
Anna glanced at her and quickly lowered her eyes, her fingertips unconsciously fingering the embroidered patterns on the cushion, like a child who had done something wrong: "There is one thing I must confess in advance, I am indeed an illegitimate daughter..."
Anna saw Hazel about to open her mouth to speak, and without pausing, she said quickly, "I know you won't look down on me for this, but I have more to say than just this. My mother died when I was very young, and it was only about ten years after her death that I learned that she was actually Mrs. Dorothea Banks's half-sister."
Heather frowned, and Mary was so frightened by the sudden chill in the atmosphere that she didn't dare to say a word. She could only look left and right.
"So she's not your boss at all, but your aunt?"
Anna wanted to deny it, but seeing Heather's expression, she dared not hide it any longer. "Yes, but in the past thirty years, I haven't spent more than half a month with her."
After saying this, Anna had no scruples at all. She rubbed her frozen hands, closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair in self-abandonment.
"Although my biological mother wasn't from a noble family, she was the daughter of a respectable family. It's said that she and Dorothea maintained a somewhat friendly relationship before she married. I still don't know why she abandoned her proper position to be with my father, as she died just as I was old enough to understand. Before her death, I only met Dorothea once, when she was newly married and still a gentle and beautiful young woman."
The snow outside the window stopped, everything was quiet, and only Anna's monologue continued.
"The second time I saw her was after my father's most recent war. That was about three years ago. I rejected the marriage arranged by my stepmother and moved into this house on my own. My stepmother halved the allowance my father had stipulated, paying it every two months. Suddenly, one day, Dorothea showed up at my door and asked if I would like to take on a job."
Heather understood. "Is it just about drawing plants?"
Anna opened her eyes, her gaze sincere yet a bit stubborn. "Yes, after that, she often sent people to tidy up the plants on my balcony, and would occasionally arrange new tasks. But she only came a few times in person. Unless she sent someone, I couldn't contact her normally, and I never called her aunt in person."
Heather loosened her fists, and the stone in her heart was almost put down. At least Anna was not colluding with Mrs. Banks to set her up, which made her not doubt her vision and intuition.
Anna continued, cautiously and tentatively leaning closer to Hazel. "Although we've only known each other for a week, Hazel, I can't tell you how much I want to maintain our friendship. Dorothea has really changed a lot over the years. Perhaps my first impression of her blinded me. If she really did deceive you, I would feel very guilty."
Heather turned to look at her, not pushing away her hand that had become increasingly aggressive and was tugging at her arm. "Okay, Anna, the fact that we've only known each other for a short time isn't really a hidden fact. Honestly, I've only seen double agents with multiple identities in novels. I was really afraid that someone like that might appear around me in real life. I'm not a particularly shrewd person, and not being able to tell the difference makes me feel very insecure."
Anna nodded repeatedly. "I promise I'm not hiding anything important from you...except that I like to draw war paintings...and I don't have much savings, so I basically spend all the money I get."
Heather laughed out loud, and the atmosphere in the carriage completely relaxed. Mary patted her chest exaggeratedly and moved out of the corner.
"Well, anyway, I've decided to go meet this Mrs. Banks." Heather asked the driver to start again and finish the last five minutes of the journey: "What if she comes to give me some money?"
Not long after Heather returned to the study, Mrs. Banks was ushered in. She still had that serious look with her back straight, but perhaps because she was not on her own territory, she seemed less dominant.
"Mrs. Banks, nice to see you again." Heather sat upright behind the desk and gestured for her to sit down. "Are you here in person to deliver the two thousand pounds to me?"
Mrs. Banks didn't say anything. She didn't even move. She just stared at Hazel, as if she was carefully evaluating the value of a piece of porcelain. Hazel felt uneasy when she saw this.
After a moment, Mrs. Banks pulled a bulging envelope from her sleeve and placed it on the table.
"Three thousand pounds."
Heather raised an eyebrow and looked at her, "Ma'am, did you misremember the price, or are you planning to buy something else from me?"
Mrs. Banks paid no attention to this slightly provocative remark. She simply asked calmly, "Do you know Joseph Banks?"
Heather didn't expect that was what she was going to say, and replied cautiously, "I understand a little bit."
In fact, Hessel felt she probably knew Banks better than many of her contemporaries who had met him in person. After all, she had read about his research and life experiences in more than one book. She'd heard stories like how he collected thousands of new species while sailing around the world in his twenties, how he headed the Royal Society for half a century and was the architect of the Empire's colonial botanical strategy, and how he broke the tea monopoly by stealing tea plants from China.
Mrs. Banks shook her head, clearly unconvinced. "No, you probably only know his achievements and power, but not the man himself. He was a complete scientific tyrant who tolerated no challenge to his rule. He monopolized exploration resources, barred dissidents from joining the academy, and required plant hunters to sign a harsh indenture. His assistants could only publish their work under his own name with his permission."
Heather's eyes widened. She knew Banks was resented by the colonials for plundering resources, but she hadn't expected him to be so ruthless back home. And most importantly, why was his wife going to someone she'd just met at night to badmouth him? Was she inviting her to join them in overthrowing the tyranny?
"Ahem..." Heather lit the candle a little brighter. "Madam, you must have misunderstood me. I won't side with someone who steals other people's achievements, and I certainly don't have the ability to fight against a so-called tyrant. What exactly do you want to do by coming to me?"
Mrs. Banks stood up from her seat and walked to the ceiling-high bookcase. With her back to Heather, she said, "Regarding the signatures on Anna's paintings, I think it's necessary to clarify one thing. Those paintings will only bear my name when they are exhibited at the Salon. When they are included in the Royal Society or published publicly, they will all be signed with the same signature: "Drawn by Sir Banks' Assistant." There will be no Anna's name, and there will be no mine either. We are both people obscured by the history of science."
"I hope you don't misunderstand me, because I want to cooperate with you."
She turned around, the candlelight reflected in her eyes, so bright that it was frightening, as if a mannequin placed in the shadows had suddenly and inexplicably come to life.
"She actually said she wanted to cooperate with me? Oh my God, I thought my ears were damaged by the strong wind." Heather said excitedly to Lancaster opposite her, holding an exquisite little spoon with gold carvings.
They were sitting in the new Melville dessert shop on Bryant Street, which Lancaster had mentioned in his letter.
This is a dessert shop that's incredibly expensive. Its double-paned windows, framed by stained glass depicting dessert patterns, let the sunlight stream in like a flowing candy. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and a painting on the wall depicts the dessert table at Carlton House. Even the cutlery is made of Derby porcelain, with the shop's logo engraved on the silver handles of the cutlery and forks.
The desserts were even more expensive. This price kept many people away, so that in the afternoon, there were only three or four tables in the restaurant, all filled with ladies wearing feather hats and gentlemen in tuxedos. In comparison, Heather and Lancaster were dressed very low-key.
Lancaster gracefully cut off a corner of the creamy fruit tart and responded, "Perhaps she saw your talent and potential. Besides your knowledge of botany, it's also your unwavering defiance of power and your determination to stay true to your heart."
This idea was too lofty, and Heather blushed for a second.
"I think she must hate her husband because he deprived her of her honor and made her live in his shadow forever? Or because her years of hard work haven't melted the ice, so she is discouraged and plans to start a new life?"
Heather narrowed her eyes at the sweetness of the marzipan frosting. "Do you know any gossip about Lord Banks, Lancaster?"
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