SMR 107

~Chapter 107~

“Oh no, what do I do! That bag had all of Madam’s prescriptions and medical notes in it!”

Most doctor’s bags looked very similar—black or brown leather, with a metal frame that snapped open and shut, a buckle, and a small handle.

So, sometimes after doctors met, their bags would accidentally get switched.

If it had been swapped with another doctor he knew, it could have been shrugged off as a funny mistake. But earlier, the people Jasper met hadn’t given their names or addresses. There was no way to get the bag back.

Luckily, Trisha’s medical records were also kept at her home.

“Still… there was an expensive stethoscope and medicine inside.”

“You didn’t lose your wallet too, did you?”

At the pharmacist’s worried question, Jasper quickly patted the inside of his jacket. Thankfully, the wallet was still there.

“Well, at least that’s safe. But what terrible luck.”

Sighing, he bought a few cough remedies from the pharmacy. On the way back, though, a troubling thought struck him.

‘Wait… how did the bags even get switched?’

Those people didn’t look like doctors. So why were they carrying a physician’s bag? And why did they get out of the carriage with it?

Of course, there was no one who could answer his questions.

***

At that same moment, Jasper Atworth’s bag was being opened and examined on a table at Viscount Listerwell’s estate.

The Listerwell family’s doctor, hired by John, was carefully going through the papers inside. Finally, he nodded.

“Based on these notes, it’s clear that Countess Pellon’s illness is very serious. Outwardly she may look fine, but…”

John’s face brightened.

“Really? What kind of illness?”

“It’s called Hicks Regato Syndrome, a lung disease. The coughing worsens, the lungs weaken, and one day, she’ll quietly pass away from breathing difficulties.”

“Well then, that’s a good way to go, isn’t it?”

The doctor shook his head.

“Not exactly. The coughing will be frequent, her throat sore, headaches common… and chest pains will be severe.”

But John wasn’t swayed.

“Still better than me having to strangle her myself.”

The doctor paled at those words, but John didn’t care. What mattered was that Harriet’s only protector, Trisha, was soon going to die.

Once the family doctor left, John bared his teeth in a grin.

“God really must be on our side, Bella. He’s giving us the perfect way to break Harriet from that old woman! All we need to do now is wait…”

Once Trisha Pellon was gone, taking everything from Harriet would be easy. No parents, no guardian, no husband or in-laws—what shield could a young woman like her possibly have?

But Bella shook her head.

“Wait? How can you say that when we don’t know when she’ll die?”

“She’s going to die anyway. Why bother with anything else?”

“Do you think Countess Pellon would just sit back and wait for death? No, she’ll make preparations. That makes me nervous.”

Trisha was not the kind of woman to face death unprepared. She might leave Harriet a stronger protector, a good inheritance, or even arrange an excellent marriage for her.

‘I can’t let that happen.’

Bella bit her lip, thought it over, and quickly came up with an answer.

“Of course! There’s someone who would be desperate for this information. If we pass it along, they’ll handle the rest for us.”

She whispered the name into her father’s ear. Someone who could become their ally.

John’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands.

“Bella, you’re brilliant!”

He immediately sent a messenger, carrying the critical information about Trisha.

As expected, that person came rushing like the wind. John greeted her warmly.

“Welcome, Baroness Marshal!”

“Thank you for the warm welcome. Your message hinted at very good news, so I came right away.”

It was Loren Marshal—Trisha’s old enemy, the one who would be happiest at her death and also most afraid of her.

Smiling, John led her to the room, where Bella was already waiting.

“It’s been a while, Baroness,” Bella greeted.

“Indeed. I think the last time I saw you was at Oster’s funeral. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady.”

“You’re too kind. I hope the sudden journey wasn’t too hard for you?”

Bella offered tea with a sweet smile—nothing about her looked like someone plotting something terrible.

But Loren knew full well this wasn’t a polite social call. John had summoned her because he had information about Trisha.

And John, not one to waste time, went straight to the point.

“I believe your eldest son, Jaden, should rightfully inherit the Pellon estate. That’s why I asked you here.”

“That’s delightful to hear, but why so suddenly…?”

John grinned.

“Did you know Countess Trisha is gravely ill?”

“What? Truly?”

“It’s a lung disease—Hicks something. She hasn’t got long.”

Loren’s eyes widened. It was the news she had long wished for. Yet thinking of her bitter enemy Trisha made her uneasy too.

But she quickly realized why John had called her. She had already heard about the tensions between Harriet and the Listerwell family at Pellon House.

“That frail old fox—has she said she’ll adopt her niece or something?”

Loren’s teeth clenched. She looked ready to storm off and kill Trisha herself. Exactly the reaction John wanted.

“There hasn’t been any official news, but who knows? Her judgment may not be what it once was.”

He leaned closer to her.

“I want to help make sure Jaden inherits Pellon House.”

Loren narrowed her eyes.

Such unexpected kindness always came with a hidden price.

“And what would you want in return?”

“Just Harriet. Hand her over to me.”

Normally, one would be pleased if their nephew inherited a great house. But John was certain that if Harriet became the head of Pellon, she would immediately turn her blade on him.

He couldn’t allow that.

He had to reclaim the Perillas land, which Harriet had also claimed.

Hearing this, Loren’s lips curled into a cold smile. She held out her hand.

“I think you and I will be very good friends, Viscount Listerwell.”

John grinned back and clasped her hand. In his mind, the land of Perillas already belonged to him.

***

On March 15, when the spring air was in full bloom—

Bella and James finally got engaged.

And their engagement became far more of a sensation than most noble marriages.

No one knew whose idea it was, but the engagement party was so grand that people wondered how the actual wedding could ever surpass it. And Bella, true to her title as The Golden Rose of Genoa, shone with breathtaking beauty.

But not everyone admired the occasion.

“Bella’s nasty habits seem to be back in full force,” Viviana remarked, setting down her teacup at the beautifully prepared tea table in the Laurel family’s garden.

“I can’t believe I never noticed how spiteful she was before. I must’ve been under some kind of spell,” she sighed.

“Then I suppose Bella was wagging the devil’s tongue again,” Harriet guessed.

Viviana nodded, but glanced nervously at Daphne.

“I only asked around because I didn’t want Daphne to be left in the dark. But… are you sure you want to hear this?”

“I’ll be fine. I’d rather know what she said so I can respond properly,” Daphne said firmly, her gaze steady.

Viviana let out a heavy sigh, then spoke.

“Apparently, at her engagement, Bella mentioned your name on purpose, saying you’ve been on her mind. She even claimed she sometimes felt guilty, thinking Mr. Cheslow must have completely forgotten you.”

“How shameless. Not that I’m surprised,” Harriet muttered with a crooked smile.

And that wasn’t all. The other things Bella had said were just as sly and malicious.

“‘Isn’t fate strange?’ she said. ‘When I was young, I had a small connection with James. Later, because of business with the Laurel family, he got engaged to Daphne, and I was so unhappy. But I believe Daphne will meet someone else quickly—she’s beautiful and comes from a fine family. At the last party, didn’t she even dance with a very handsome gentleman?’”