Chapter 48 Return to London 10 The evil capitalists?
"Madeleine Mason? Well, she's famous." Anna said mysteriously, "Every time I see her, I think maybe being a heartthrob is a natural trait."
"Heartthrob?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. The truth is, women both admire and despise her, and men both adore and are wary of her. But overall, at least on the surface, she's very popular in social circles. I guess it's due to her gentle and kind demeanor, which belies her appearance, and her incredibly high emotional intelligence. Whenever I see her, she always manages to navigate the crowd with ease. Even that petty woman who was always picking on me just now hasn't publicly said anything bad about Mrs. Mason, so she's really quite impressive, right?"
Mary guessed, "Maybe it's because she's helpful? When she spoke up for us just now, I felt like she was the Virgin Mary!"
Heather mused, "If she is willing to help others and succeeds every time, then her followers will indeed increase."
Anna nodded. "But it's not entirely because she's willing to help. I vaguely remember it was because of her new fiancé. Those last few ladies probably wanted to ask her for something, right? It seemed to be an investment project?"
"New fiancé?"
As they spoke, they had already reached the temporary exhibition area at the far end of the first floor, a corridor leading from the living room to the back garden. The walls were covered with beautifully framed botanical illustrations, replacing those that couldn't be brought to the site. The most eye-catching were several large watercolors, one of which, a Rafflesia from the East Indies, took up an entire wall. The wrinkles on the dark red petals were delicately smudged, and even the decaying texture of the flower's center was clearly visible, compelling passersby to stop and take a look.
"I've never seen such a big painting." Mary exclaimed, looking up.
Anna squeezed in between them. "Hey, that's impressive, isn't it? I painted it for a whole week, day and night. It's so huge, I had to get up at six every morning to be dragged to Kew Gardens to paint it. Honestly, it's a bit scary up close."
"Ah! Anna! It was you who drew this!" Mary looked over in admiration.
"It's just so-so," Anna said, shrugging off her modesty. "But actually, this kind of still life painting isn't that difficult. Any artist with a bit of skill can do it. But I still feel a sense of accomplishment after I finish it."
Heather did not participate in the conversation. She looked at the signature at the bottom of the painting with a frown in thought. It read, Dorothea Banks.
Before they knew it, the corridor had become quiet. Everyone else was attracted by the practical explanations of planting and flower arrangement on the second floor, and only Heather and the other two were left there.
Heather was suddenly awakened from Anna and Mary's somewhat abrupt and cheerful conversation. She glanced at the corner of her eye and was shocked to find that there were several people standing in the shadows at the end of the corridor, and she didn't know how long they had been standing there.
Heather gently pulled Anna, who was still laughing, and said in a low voice: "Anna, do you know who that is? She seems to be watching us all the time."
Anna turned around and put on a dignified expression: "Long time no see, Mrs. Banks."
It turned out to be the salon's organizer, Mrs. Dorothea Banks.
Mrs. Banks stood in the shadow of the door leading to the back garden, flanked by a maid and a male assistant holding a notebook. Her long, dark blue taffeta dress was wrinkle-free. She looked older, but her back was remarkably straight. Her face was expressionless, her mouth pressed into a flat line. Her gaze remained steady, neither warm nor emotional.
"Mrs. Lawrence?" She walked straight over and said, "I want to talk to you alone about the giant taro."
Heather knew that Anna had written to Mrs. Banks a few days ago to explain this matter because she did not have enough time to repaint, so she was not too surprised. She hesitated for two seconds, then came back and gave Mary a reassuring look, then followed Mrs. Banks into a secret door hidden in the wall of the corridor.
Behind the secret door was a small room with a large floor-to-ceiling window facing a deserted lawn. Mrs. Banks's companions did not follow her in, leaving them alone.
Heather had an inexplicable fondness for the people around textbook historical figures. She took the initiative and said, "Mrs. Banks, I didn't expect you to come to me specifically. Do you want to discuss the differences between calla lilies and elephant ear taro?" She pulled a few pages of previously written paper from her sleeve and handed them to Mrs. Banks. "Here are all the ways I've come up with to distinguish the two plants. Oh, and there's one more thing I forgot to mention. Elephant ear taro can also..."
Mrs. Banks took the paper but interrupted her. "Then you will donate this research to Kew Gardens? If it is proven correct, Kew Gardens will pay for the purchase."
"Buyout? Sorry, I don't understand what you mean." Heather keenly sensed something was wrong.
Mrs. Banks folded the papers and put them into her sleeve. She said expressionlessly, "You can name your price. All the economic and research value of this paper will belong to Kew Gardens. Also, Sir Banks will publish a related article next week, and your name will not be mentioned."
"...So, are you guys at Kew Gardens a gang of robbers?" Heather was irritated by her complacent attitude. She could even get a second authorship for a paper she published with her mentor. While she had no intention of putting her own name on anything she learned in class, this act of plunder was just too bizarre. "Perhaps this is a tradition in your house? The husband puts his name on other people's academic work, and the wife takes possession of other people's paintings."
Mrs. Banks's eyebrows twitched, and the corners of her mouth curled up meaningfully. "You should be aware of the influence of the Banks name in the botanical world. Now that it's right in front of him, do you still want to publish it or use it yourself? Mrs. Lawrence, you don't have access to colonies, so you can't use the economic value of giant taro anyway. Reputation is not as important as money. Name your price."
Heather stared at Mrs. Banks in silence. Just when Mrs. Banks thought she was going to leave in anger, she spoke coldly, "Once the venom gland area is marked, its practical value will be greatly doubled. Since Kew Gardens is so wealthy, they can't afford even two thousand pounds."
Two thousand pounds was the annual salary of a country gentleman like Mr. Bennett. Heather knew that Mrs. Bankes would most likely bargain for her. She was just a little curious whether this woman, who could say anything without changing her expression, would get angry because of this.
Mrs. Banks slowly took off her lace gloves and said, "This is not a small amount, but it's a deal." After she said that, she turned and left, leaving Hazel standing there in a daze.
"She is so annoying. I hate such strong people! I must admit that I didn't perform well just now. I really want to pull her back!" Heather found Anna and Mary in the back garden, picked up the tea cake on the table and took a vicious bite.
Mary poured Heather a cup of flower tea and said in a sympathetic tone, "Oh my God, I never thought that lady would be such a person. Is there really no way we can resist?"
Anna frowned in confusion. "No way! Even though she's cold, aloof, strong-willed, and picky, I don't think she's such a bad person. Is it because I only care about money and not authorship?"
Heather gulped down a cup of tea and calmed down considerably. "I don't really care about authorship, but her attitude is like that of a vicious capitalist who exploits petty favors to deprive poor scholars of their achievements."
Anna, who was bribed by small favors, shrank her neck.
"But she is right. In front of such a large interest group, even if I don't cooperate, I probably won't be able to resist without being outnumbered. I just hope she can do what she says and give me a fair price." Heather took two more pieces of dessert, intending to make up for the loss.
After returning home, Heather opened her diary and began to reflect on what had happened throughout the day.
"I was too naive. I underestimated the means and conscience of capitalists and overestimated the quality of botanists."
"I can't believe I actually took the initiative to complete a full-mark assignment and handed it over with both hands before the other person could even speak!"
"Ah! From today on, I will begin planning my own plant business empire. Years from now, I will make the rulers of Kew Gardens pay the price for their arrogance and ruthlessness!"
Heather looked at the two sheets of paper she had filled in one go, and pondered why her writing skills had improved so dramatically. She bit the pen in her hand and added.
"I am not responsible for any of the above ambitions. If I don't succeed in the future, it will be because I was born at the wrong time..."
Having written this, Heather put down her pen with satisfaction. She hesitated again, feeling that just writing it down in her diary wouldn't be enough to reflect on it. So she picked up the ruler on the table, carefully tore off the two pages, and slipped the envelope inside.
"Mr. Lancaster is the only one who opened this letter. No one else is allowed to open it!"
Lancaster received another letter before this one.
Evan stood in front of his boss's desk with his head lowered, waiting for the next instruction without saying a word, but this did not mean that he had nothing in his mind. In fact, his brain had uncontrollably constructed a melodramatic novel.
"Go tell her that there's no need to send letters anymore." The boss's voice interrupted Evan's wild thoughts. He responded without changing his expression, with eight hundred question marks flashing through his mind.
"I helped her get the property, so she made a killing. Her ex-husband is now in jail. She got me the documented evidence we agreed on in advance, and with this temporary help, we're even. I don't need her to interfere anymore. Let her figure out what she wants to do on her own. She doesn't need to contact me anymore. This cooperation ends here."
Evan nodded in agreement, waited two seconds to make sure his boss had no other instructions, then turned and walked out.
The moment the door closed, he saw his boss put the letter in his hand on the candle and light it.
The door closed, Lancaster stood up and walked to the French window, quietly looking down at the entire street.
After a long pause, he chuckled softly. It seemed she was even smarter and more capable than he'd imagined, and she didn't need his protection on such a trivial matter. But there would always be times when she needed him.
Although her personality is generally bright and kind, she is not the kind of person who compromises without any bottom line. On the contrary, she has a bottom line in her heart that cannot be trampled upon.
Lancaster decided to be more careful, at least when his identity was exposed in the future, he would not be charged with a more serious crime because someone was found to have written to him to inform him of her whereabouts.
Thinking of this, he frowned again. How could he reveal his identity naturally and still stay with her?
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