Chapter 84 Green Vein Operation 17 The Secret in the Study
While London has been rife with turbulent times these past few days, Park Lane remains peaceful and tranquil. Perhaps it's inhabited by wealthy, well-traveled individuals who don't pay much attention to matters that don't concern them.
Before anyone could knock on the door, the guard at the gate looked over. After Heather gave her name, he immediately sent someone back to report.
The person who came to pick up Heather was an acquaintance, Lancaster's chief assistant, Mr. Evan.
"Hi, Evan, long time no see." Heather tried to act relaxed. "I have something urgent to discuss with Lancaster. Is he busy now?"
Evan looked embarrassed. "The master is not at home right now. He sent me back to get the documents. If you are particularly anxious, you can tell me what happened, or write a letter and I will deliver it."
Heather guessed Lancaster was probably still with the Lord Chancellor, preparing for tomorrow's questioning session. "Can I wait here for him to come back? I have something I want to tell him in person."
Evan was a little hesitant. His boss probably wouldn't come back to sleep tonight, but considering how much he valued Mrs. Lawrence, he had to deliver the news of Mrs. Lawrence's arrival as soon as possible.
"Why don't you wait a moment, I'll go tell the gentleman now."
"No need." Heather refused: "Don't tell him I'm coming. Just do your own thing. I'll wait for an hour, and if he doesn't come back, forget it."
Evan had no choice but to agree. He still had a lot of documents that needed to be sorted out and taken away. Time was really tight. He sent Heather to the study room that he used most often for work and then left.
Heather walked around the study slowly with some curiosity. This was her first time entering his study, or rather, her first time entering his home, his private space.
She had just taken a casual glance as she walked along. Unlike the fresh, natural exterior that blended in with the park, the interior of this house still had the most common dull aristocratic style.
The heavy curtains and carpets, the low-key and nondescript furniture, the only difference compared to the two mansions she had visited in Mayfair was that there were no standard wall-to-wall paintings.
This study was probably Lancaster's office. Apart from a few rows of bookshelves filled with various legal books, everything else was locked in cabinets. Heather tried, but all the cabinets were locked, indicating that the owner had a strong sense of confidentiality.
The sky was completely dark and the heavy rain was pouring down impatiently. Staying alone in such an unfamiliar environment, Heather felt calmer little by little.
The smell here is so familiar, and the chair in front of the desk is almost exactly the same as the one in her study.
Heather sat down relaxedly, wondering if Lancaster had noticed it sometime and secretly learned it without even telling her.
Soon, her attention was drawn to the only pile of papers scattered on the table. It seemed as if someone had forgotten to put the papers into the cabinet and lock it with the other things in a hurry to leave, and it was left abruptly on the clean table.
Heather was drawn to the familiar paper, the one she usually used to write letters, with the same pattern of her own seal still in the lower left corner.
She took it out of curiosity and looked at it. Sure enough, the whole stack was full of early letters written to Lancaster.
"Dear Mr. Lawyer..."
Heather blushed a little. After such a long time, she didn't expect that these early letters were still well preserved.
However, the letter papers were completely unrecognizable. The parts that should have been blank were all covered with small words written in red ink.
"What's going on?" Heather muttered to herself. "Why do I feel like I've been given an essay graded by an elementary school teacher?"
She looked closely and saw that there was indeed a correction mark next to it.
Lancaster was just like a nitpicking English teacher, not letting go of any grammatical errors. However, she was not very proficient in using English in her early days. Problems such as missing an s, using the wrong tense, and incorrect word order were all circled and corrected and written next to them.
Oh my God, how come he has so much energy!
A few pages later, while the basic mistakes had decreased, the red-pen annotations were even more numerous. The main content consisted of quotations from classics addressing her questions, along with short stories, book reflections, and notes on famous London restaurants and entertainment venues. It was practically an encyclopedia. Some of the annotations even had the time recorded down to the hour.
Heather was puzzled. Several of the letters were written over several consecutive months, all late at night. Moreover, he seemed to have written them only to enjoy them himself, without revealing anything to her.
how so.
Lancaster's writing was still as rich in content as before. Heather was drawn into it unconsciously, as if she were reliving the time she had just traveled through, and as if she was having a face-to-face conversation with the person who had been writing hard in this study late at night countless times.
Just like that, she fell asleep on this familiar seat without knowing when.
When Heather jerked awake, it was already daylight. She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, her first reaction being to raise her hand and observe. Okay, nothing had changed. It wasn't another time travel.
I tentatively rang the bell at the head of the bed, and soon two well-trained maids came in quietly.
Heather asked, "Who are you and where am I?"
The tall maid stood in the distance and lowered her head to answer, "This is Mr. Lancaster's residence at 12 Park Lane. He brought you back last night. Do you want to get up and wash?"
Heather agreed.
The two maids were quick and efficient, but they couldn't get any more information out of her. She was bewildered as she was dressed and then, bewilderedly, led to sit at the table where a sumptuous breakfast was set.
At this moment, Evan walked in with his usual expression and a warm smile. "Good morning, ma'am. I hope you had a good sleep last night. Here's the letter my husband left for you. I'll take you home after you finish your meal. I'm sure your family must be waiting anxiously."
Heather took out the letter and saw that it said: Don't worry, see you tomorrow.
"When did Lancaster come back?"
Evan understood what she meant: "It was around 1 a.m., and he didn't stay long before he left."
So tomorrow probably means the day after the questioning session. "Oh, right." Heather remembered, "I'll go back and get something for you, and then I'll go to the parliament hall with you. I've also applied for an observation seat."
Evan looked up. "Ma'am, are you sure your application has been approved? I don't remember seeing your name on the list of observation seats."
Heather was surprised. "How could that be? I applied for the privileged observation seat for the nobility. I heard that as long as you meet the status requirements, there's no chance of rejection."
Evan understood: "This incident has attracted a lot of attention. Perhaps because there were too many applications, the council randomly screened out some of them. If you don't get an invitation letter, you probably won't be able to get in."
Heather had already decided to watch the questioning in person to understand people's attitudes towards industrial purification. In addition, Lancaster would definitely attend and might even speak, so she was unwilling to miss this opportunity.
"Doesn't Lancaster also work at the court? Do you have any reserved seats for guests? Can you take me in?"
Evan apologized, "Probably not, ma'am. I don't have that privilege. Perhaps I could ask the gentleman, but going to him now would require going through numerous hurdles, so I probably won't be able to make it in time for the hearing."
Heather had no choice but to suppress her confusion and agree.
After a few bites, she put down her knife and fork and started to go home. Evan personally followed her car to make sure she got home, and then left in a hurry.
Heather looked at his back for a long moment before turning and walking in. Mary and Elizabeth were still asleep. She saw the note left by her two nieces on the table and confirmed with the housekeeper and maid that she had not received an invitation to the inquiry.
She hesitated for a moment, but finally picked up the documents on the table, got up and went out.
"To Chelsea."
Knocking on the door, Madeline Mason looked like she was about to go out as well.
"Hi." Madeline looked at the visitor in surprise: "Hazel, we haven't seen each other for two weeks, why did you come to see me suddenly?"
Heather looked at her with a smile: "Madeline, are you going out to attend the special questioning meeting? I also want to go and listen to it suddenly. Can you please help me go in with you?"
Madeline was a little confused: "If you want to go, of course you can. I know a female friend who works in a newspaper who should be able to take you to the media booth. But..." Madeline didn't understand why Heather asked her for help when she obviously knew the Chief Justice himself.
"Can I?" Heather winked at her. "I got some important information this morning and need to go to the scene to hand it over to a friend in person, but I can't contact him now. Can you do me this favor?"
Madeline thought she just couldn't contact Mr. Lancaster temporarily, so she readily agreed: "Okay, come with me, I'll take you to find that friend at the newspaper."
At one o'clock in the afternoon, Hessel sat in the media area as she wished.
Many people came to the House of Lords chamber today. Looking around, the amphitheater was crowded with people, including aristocrats in formal clothes, politicians in black and white suits, businessmen in peaked caps, and some ladies.
The media area and the privileged observation area are on both sides, much closer to the center than the general public seats at the back. From here, you can clearly see the seats for the questioning group in the middle and the podium for the person being questioned.
Very good, Heather sat down contentedly.
Madeleine's friend Jennifer is the daughter of the owner of the England Morning Post. She has a keen instinct for news. She is quick and decisive, specializing in political news and is quiet.
Heather was also happy to be free. She didn't know why she felt very uneasy at the moment. She always felt that something bad was about to happen and she couldn't greet anyone.
She waved to Reina, who was waiting in the corridor behind her. "Reina, find a way to get this briefcase to Mr. Evan. I just heard they should be waiting in the room next to the conference hall. Remember to hurry and tell him that his boss might be able to use it today."
Reina agreed.
"You asked her to go to the backstage politicians' lounge to find someone?" Jennifer suddenly turned her head.
"Huh?" Heather didn't expect her to notice. "Uh, I know a friend. I saw him around the corner when I just came in. Unfortunately, he quickly went into that room, so I didn't have time to call out to him."
Jennifer nodded. "Then I'm afraid your maid can't do it. When I attended the inquiry before, I tried many ways to get close to there and interview those important people, but unfortunately the security there was too strict and I couldn't get in at all."
"What?" Heather frowned. If she had known, she would have given it to Evan in the morning. But Evan left in a hurry and she was busy with something else, so she didn't have time to give it to him.
bite.
Just then, the bell rang and the meeting was about to begin.
The huge conference hall gradually became quiet. It was obvious that today's questioning session was indeed extraordinary.
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