Chapter 80 Green Pulse Operation 13 Mask Factory
"It's been busy outside lately, isn't it?"
Dorothea had just sorted and put all the documents back into the storage cabinet and stretched her stiff neck in the dark when she heard the person at the desk behind her ask this question without any context.
"Yes." Without looking back, she put the book she had put in the wrong place.
The people behind were dissatisfied. "The specimens are still piled up there, and the foreman building the new greenhouse can't find the owner. And what about you? Dorothea Hughson, or Dorotheus, what have you done behind my back?"
Dorothea slowly put on the gloves she had placed aside and turned around. "I'm sorry, sir, I thought you were the owner of this place. It's normal that they can't find the owner. I haven't seen you much lately."
Sir Banks forcefully swept the ornaments from the table to the floor, where they landed on the carpet with a barely audible thud. "Don't you know what I've been up to lately? That damn old dandy keeps coming up with new ideas, insisting on cutting this year's funding."
Dorothea's voice remained steady. "That's a real lack of vision and foresight."
Sir Banks' expression softened slightly, tapping his cigar. "I heard the Countess of Daventry spent two thousand pounds on the so-called Green Shield renovation project for her residence. And that's just the initial proposal. Who knows how much it will cost to buy all the plants later? As the mistress of Kew Gardens and a Marchioness, it's not appropriate for you to be caught secretly making money out there."
Dorothea didn't care. "No one outside will find out. I'm not famous, and few people know my maiden name. And I didn't choose it to hide it from you."
"Besides," she said, walking slowly over, avoiding obstacles on the ground, "the plants recently brought back from the colonies seem to be having trouble selling. I've incorporated them into Mrs. Daventry's design. I'm sure you'll soon be flooded with people waving banknotes to offer you money."
Sir Banks stared into her eyes for several seconds, then relaxed his facial muscles. "I hope we can continue to work together happily, just like we have for the past twenty years."
——
"Oh my God, so it's really two thousand pounds? Just by taking a walk around his house, you can earn almost half a year's salary of Mr. Gardner. I never knew pounds were so easy to get!" Mrs. Gardner sat in the fabric shop, trying to control her voice. In just half a year, her sister-in-law became rich.
"Oh, this is just the first order. I guess the price won't be that high later. Besides, it's shared by several people, not just mine." Heather was in a good mood when she mentioned this. In addition to making money from the design plans, some rare plant varieties that she had sent to Charlotte to prepare in advance also received a steady stream of orders.
"But what color is this? It looks too old. Am I going to make a skirt for my old aunt?" Heather pulled out a piece of cloth in front of her and put it back in.
Mrs. Gardner smiled and took the cloth, pretending to pat her. "You don't understand this, do you? This is royal purple velvet, supplied exclusively by the fabric merchants of St. Martin's Lane. London aristocrats use it for curtains. When the time comes, I'll embellish the edges with silver tassels and complete it with a brass carved track. It will be the perfect engagement gift for Jane."
Heather curled her lips and said, "Anyway, I don't like this cookie-cutter, luxurious and dull style. When I install curtains in my manor, I must choose a special color."
Mrs. Gardner laughed. "Well, then, if you get married in the future, I won't send you curtains."
Her sister-in-law might not be urging her to get married, but Heather felt her face getting hot when she heard it, so she had to lower her head vaguely and pretend to appreciate the fabric seriously.
Mrs. Gardner keenly noticed something was wrong and jokingly asked, "Why, is there something else I don't know about? Could it be that you have someone you like?"
Heather hesitated, not knowing how to describe their strange relationship.
She quickly skipped over it and changed the subject, saying seriously, "I just happened to think of something else."
Mrs. Gardner was so shocked by her seriousness that she put down what she was holding and asked hesitantly, "What is it?"
Heather looked around to see that there was no one around, then leaned back in the soft chair and sighed, "Oh, I've gone through so much trouble, laying the groundwork and guiding public opinion everywhere, but in the end the rich made money, but the workers' working environment hasn't changed at all." This was indeed something she had been struggling with over and over again in the past few days.
Mrs. Gardner had also heard her husband mention this: “Didn’t they say they could help with the planning and design of the factory for free? Don’t they want to spend the money to buy plants?
Heather shook her head. "It's not just a matter of money. For example, in a textile factory, adding an ivy wall to the workshop can greatly reduce dust emissions. Ivy doesn't cost much. The most important thing is the stance and attitude. Those factory owners don't want to back down because of public opinion. They're afraid it will arouse the ambitions of their workers and embolden them to fight for more benefits."
Mrs. Gardner felt sorry for the workers, but her family didn't own a factory and she had no say in the matter.
Mrs. Gardner: "Perhaps we could go talk to some of the ladies we know in Chelsea and ask them for help?"
Heather: "This isn't something that can be changed by just one person; it requires a change of will from the majority. Mrs. Victor once told me quietly that her husband originally thought adding a few plants wouldn't cost much and would reduce worker mortality, so it wasn't impossible. But theirs isn't a heavily polluting factory, so the owners of the steel and coal mills aren't willing to do it. Others who have slightly softened their stance don't want to betray their alliances."
Mrs. Gardner had recently listened to a lot of unofficial stories from her governess, and her thinking was gradually broadening. "If that's the case, then the only way to change them is to use force. Perhaps the Regent's mistress or the Parliamentary Minister's beloved son could persuade them to do it."
Heather was amused by her. "He has so many mistresses. I'm not sure anyone can let him use his power to go against his own pocketbook."
But the Parliamentary Minister... Heather fell into deep thought, what kind of person could have the confidence to say that if he couldn't do it, there was no one else in the whole of England who was capable and willing to do it?
Mrs. Gardner's mouth may have been opened.
A few days later, one morning, while waiting for guests in her study, Heather flipped through the London Morning Post. She had never read newspapers before, but since the Green Vein Project began, she had to keep an eye on changes in public opinion.
Today's front-page headline is Hughes' new article, which lists how major factories can install green plants at the lowest cost to protect workers' health. Articles on this topic are obviously bought with money, because most newspapers are reluctant to take the initiative to oppose factory owners.
The second post was about an unknown botanist's interpretation of Hughes's article and his own recommendations for purification plants. It's not uncommon to see botanical researchers riding on the wave of popularity lately, either being commissioned to promote their products or taking advantage of the opportunity to enhance their own reputation and status.
Today's guy was obviously a half-baked guy and was boring, so Heather planned to change the newspaper.
Just then, she caught a glimpse of a small box at the bottom of the first page.
"Rumor: The Lord Chancellor is pushing for a factory cleanup bill, which has passed the House of Lords and is expected to take effect within six weeks."
The message consisted of only a few dozen words, but Heather stared at it for five minutes as if her English had suddenly regressed.
Was it Dorothea's connections? Was it someone with ideals and a conscience who offered to help?
Or a judge...
"Knock, knock." The door was knocked twice politely.
Heather put down the newspaper and took a quick sip of herbal tea: "Come in."
"Good day, Mrs. Laurence." He took off his hat.
Heather stood up and shook his hand. "Long time no see, Mr. Darcy. Did you just come back from Hunsford? Is your aunt in good health?"
Darcy thanked her for her greeting and paused for a second as he thought about what had happened in Hunsford.
"Not long ago, I visited Reverend Mrs. Collins's greenhouse garden. It was truly amazing. It's quite large, and there are many varieties I've never seen before. I heard that it's a flower garden you're collaborating with. I also heard... a lot has happened in London recently?"
Heather had wanted to take some time to find out about him and Elizabeth, but then she thought better of it. They weren't close, and she didn't have the heart to do so right now.
"That is why I asked you to come here. I need your help, Mr. Darcy, in a scheme that may not be very profitable, but at least it can do no harm."
Heather didn't return to his desk to sit down. Instead, he leaned casually against the bookshelf behind him and played the mechanical music box on it. This wasn't a conventional business model of win-win cooperation; a more relaxed atmosphere was needed.
Darcy had obviously relaxed a little, and the simple country folk song allowed him to briefly escape the fast pace of London.
"I'm not just interested in making money. In fact, I'm not short of money, ma'am."
The tone of this sentence was not one of condescending showing off, but rather a kind of self-mockery that both parties knew very well. Heather couldn't help but sigh that Mr. Darcy was indeed no longer arrogant. Perhaps the pride in his bones had not changed, but at least he looked much softer on the surface.
"Not lacking money doesn't mean you're rich enough." Heather blinked and said deliberately, "Hasn't you heard about a factory owner who recently donated a huge amount of war funds to the royal family and was made a baron?"
That was no ordinary amount of money, and Darcy was not annoyed by being refuted.
He stood motionless in the middle of the study, his expression unchanged. "The Darcy family doesn't have that much money. But I don't want to spend all my time accumulating wealth. I'd rather improve my family's reputation through other means."
Heather heard what she wanted to hear, and raised the corners of her lips: "Well, then my plan will be of some help in improving my reputation."
Darcy was surprised. The person who grew the fastest in the past six months was not him, but Mrs. Lawrence, who had no direct involvement in the canal investment.
Half a year ago at Longbourn, she hadn't even asked about his qualifications or character before directly telling him the important news about the canal investment. At that time, she acted like she didn't want to get involved in anything and didn't care about anything.
Half a year later, she had begun to develop into a mature businessman and strategist.
If Heather knew he was thinking this, she'd definitely yell, "What a misunderstanding!" It was all because this was basically a money-losing venture, and it might even spark controversy. So, she had to warn Darcy first.
"The plan is to build a mask factory," Heiser continued.
"Face mask?"
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