Chapter 119: Are You Really Leaving?

Back in his room, Geoffrey ordered Zac Saunders to fetch Harlan. Harlan had already gone to bed and was barely awake when Zac knocked on his door. Irritated, he grumbled, “That brat…”

“Geoffrey requests your presence,” Zac said. Knowing Harlan’s temper, he quickly explained the situation. Rubbing his eyes, Harlan asked groggily, “At this hour? What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. After returning from Isolde’s room, I was told to fetch you,” Zac replied.

Harlan’s eyes widened as he sprang up from bed. “He went to Isolde’s room?” he asked, startled.

“Yes, after coming back from Blesertin, he went straight to her room,” Zac said.

Harlan’s face darkened, and he grabbed Zac, saying, “Quick, help me find my shoes.” As he hurriedly dressed, he muttered, “That’s it, they must’ve argued again. That father and daughter are like dogs fighting each other.” To Harlan, whenever Geoffrey went to the Pearl Tower, there was bound to be a fight. He rushed out, barely putting on his clothes.

Upon entering, he saw Geoffrey sitting calmly in a chair, sipping coffee. There was no trace of the anger he had expected.

“Why are you running?” Geoffrey asked, setting down his cup, surprised.

Harlan caught his breath and said, “Just needed to run a bit, to shake off the alcohol.”

“You’re not young anymore; you should drink less,” Geoffrey said, unusually caring.

Harlan chuckled. “Alright, Zac said you wanted to see me. What’s going on?”

Geoffrey gestured for him to close the door, then said, “Sit down.” Harlan took a seat, watching Geoffrey with curiosity. Geoffrey suddenly turned serious.

“Do you remember anything about Prunella’s pregnancy?”

Harlan was taken aback. “I remember the big things.”

Geoffrey’s voice lowered. “Do you think her death was suspicious?”

Harlan’s eyes widened. He had rarely heard Geoffrey speak of Prunella’s death. “Why bring it up now?” he wondered. After thinking for a moment, he answered plainly, “Yes.”

Geoffrey felt a heavy pang in his chest. “Tell me more.”

“Prunella was always healthy, but when she was pregnant with Isolde, she had several bouts of discomfort, pain, and even cramping. But these symptoms only happened when she was at Duke’s estate. When she…”

“Anything else?” Geoffrey pressed.

Harlan hesitated. “The doctor who treated her was hired by Prudence.”

Geoffrey froze for a moment, then his face darkened. “Prudence would never harm her.”

Harlan was taken aback. “Then who do you suspect?”

Geoffrey’s voice grew cold. “Matilda.”

Harlan gave a bitter smile. “She might have wanted to, but I doubt she had the courage.”

“Doubt? From Isolde’s marriage to everything that happened at Montlins Manor, what has Matilda not done?” Geoffrey’s resentment grew, the seed of doubt planted deep within him.

“Things were different then. Back then, Matilda was just a concubine,” Harlan reminded him.

“Just a concubine? But I never went to her room, and when she conceived Harley…,” Geoffrey trailed off, unable to continue. The drunken haze of that night had always been a blur, especially when it came to Bryant. He couldn’t remember clearly.

Harlan replied quietly, “I was outside. With your condition that night, it was impossible. No sound came from inside.”

Geoffrey frowned. He trusted Harlan’s account—he would have heard anything suspicious. “So, you mean Harley might not be my son?” he asked, his tone filled with disbelief.

Harlan shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, but if it happened that way, it’s unlikely. You were too drunk, and I was right outside. There’s no way it could have happened.”

Geoffrey stared at him. The door was just a short distance away, and with his martial training, not even the slightest rustle of the wind could escape his notice. If he said nothing had happened, then nothing had happened.

A chill ran down Geoffrey’s spine. Anger surged within him—hot, restless, demanding release. And yet, inexplicably, he let out a long breath, as if a weight had been lifted.

Matilda had been arranged by Prudence. Michelle was conceived that first time—when he was drunk. He had felt immense guilt, guilt that gnawed at him, guilt for betraying Prunella. Then it happened again. Another night of drunkenness. And Bryant was born. Prunella had suffered. But he—he had suffered even more. Matilda was a thorn lodged deep in his heart, a permanent wound between him and Prunella.

“If Bryant isn’t my son… then whose son is he?” The thought struck him hard. For years, he had turned a blind eye to the affairs of the household, barely paying attention to the comings and goings within the estate. He had left too many things unchecked.

This was something he had hesitated to reveal for a long time, fearing Geoffrey wouldn’t be able to accept it. No man would. And yet… he seemed oddly calm. Geoffrey had always treated Bryant well and even doted on him at times.

“Harlan,” Geoffrey commanded, his voice steady, decisive. “Find Marley—the one who served…”

“She won’t be easy to track down,” Harlan replied, shaking his head. “She left Duke’s estate years ago and disappeared from Argentum.”

“She’s from Sterow. Could she have gone back home?”

“No. A few years ago, when we traveled south and passed through Sterow, I looked for her. Her family said she never returned.”

“She’s neither in Argentum nor back in her hometown. Then where could she have gone?” Geoffrey frowned, his unease growing.

“Most likely serving in another noble household,” Harlan guessed.

“That would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Aside from Marley, who else served Prunella? See if you can track anyone down.”

“I’ll do my best,” Harlan said, “but there’s no guarantee we’ll find anyone.”

“Don’t alert Matilda just yet. She won’t dare stir up trouble for now, which only proves that bringing Prudence back was the right call.”

Harlan knew convincing Geoffrey that Prudence was a scheming woman would be difficult. Without concrete evidence, Geoffrey would never recklessly suspect her.

“You… went to the Pearl Tower tonight?” Harlan probed cautiously.

Geoffrey cast him a cool glance and replied, “Yes.”

“And… what did she say?”

“She’s moving to Paletein Manor tomorrow.”

Harlan froze. “That’s out of the question.”

Geoffrey remained indifferent. “If she wants to go, let her. It’ll spare Prudence the trouble and keep the household at peace.”

“She has a home of her own, yet she insists on staying at Paletein Manor? Do you know what kind of gossip that’ll spark?” Harlan’s voice tightened with urgency.

“If she stays here, she and Prudence will keep clashing. Prudence is already ill from the stress. And she refuses to return to Windermount. That only leaves Paletein Manor. Or should I send Prudence away instead?”

Harlan let out a quiet sigh. No, that wasn’t an option. If Prudence left, it would cement Geoffrey as an unfilial son. The backlash alone could drown him. But… was Isolde truly willing to leave? Leaving was easy—coming back would be another story.

Back in their chamber, Noelle turned to Isolde. “Miss Langley, are you really moving to Paletein Manor?”

Isolde let out a cold, knowing laugh. “Do you think that’s even possible?”

“But you told Geoffrey you would. How are you supposed to back out now?” Noelle frowned, troubled. To her, once something was said, it had to be done.

Isolde smiled slyly. “Even if I wanted to leave, Prudence wouldn’t allow it. She’ll be the one begging me to stay.”

Noelle stared at her in disbelief. Prudence? Begging her to stay? That was impossible.