Chapter 138: The Dinner Table Drama

Geoffrey was stunned. He looked up and saw the faint glimmer of malice and hatred still burning in Prudence’s eyes. He didn’t get angry; instead, he smiled coldly. “It seems no matter what I say, it’s useless. All I can do is make sure he’s convicted for the fight. If you’re not satisfied with that, feel free to find someone better.” With that, Geoffrey turned and walked away.

Prudence’s gaze hardened, her fists clenched tight. “Fine. So be it.”

“Mother, what happened?” Priscilla asked eagerly as Prudence walked back to the stone house.

“I won’t beg him. I don’t believe there’s anything money can’t solve,” Prudence replied darkly.

“He refuses to help?” Priscilla’s face paled.

“He’s an outsider, after all,” Prudence said, slowly sitting down. She turned to Braden and reassured him, “You rest here. I’ll bring a doctor tomorrow to treat your wounds. In five days, I’ll get you out of here.”

“Five days?” Braden moaned. “I don’t want to stay here a minute longer. The food is horrible; there’s not even soup.”

“I’ll bring you some soup tonight,” Priscilla quickly said.

Vance, uninterested, muttered, “What’s so special? It’s just a few more days. This isn’t a prison; there are people watching. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Watch how you speak!” Priscilla snapped, glaring at him. “You weren’t saying anything earlier when you should have helped, and now you’re talking too much. Useless!”

Vance, fed up with Priscilla, glared back. When he had married her, she was composed and elegant, but now, all he saw was a sharp-tongued, petty woman. Over the years, her true nature had emerged.

“Enough. He’s still your husband. Is this how you speak to him?” Prudence scolded sharply.

Priscilla felt a pang of frustration. She had married Vance because he was the legitimate heir of the Langley family. Who knew he would turn out to be so useless? Even Geoffrey, who had never been much help, had been condescending, always putting her down.

Duke’s estate had a somber, tense atmosphere during dinner. Isolde had also joined the meal. After a long day of inspecting the businesses, she was tired and sat down to eat upon arrival. When Clark entered, the atmosphere grew even stranger.

“Clark, what happened to your clothes? Is that blood? Did they bully you at the Parliamentary Library?” Martha sneered, her voice dripping with malice. Her words made everyone turn to look, but no one had noticed until now. Isolde had seen the blood, but since there were no visible injuries, she assumed it wasn’t Clark’s and didn’t question it.

Everyone looked up at him. Priscilla scoffed, “Don’t you know your own limits? Grandmother didn’t want you to go because she knew your weak character. You went through the back door, and of course, they’re rejecting you.”

Clark had already been in a bad mood. Although being appointed as an Imperial Scholar-Apprentice should have been a great honor, the way people at the Parliamentary Library looked down on him made him feel miserable. Now, hearing Priscilla’s words, he felt even more ashamed.

Isolde, however, calmly retorted, “What’s wrong with going through the back door? Wasn’t it you who begged your father to help Vance and your son go through the back door? If the one going to the Parliamentary Library was that good-for-nothing, would you still be sitting here and mocking him?”

Priscilla slammed her fork on the table, glaring at Geoffrey. “Do you just let her speak like this?”

Geoffrey, who had always disliked Isolde, now found himself increasingly frustrated with Priscilla. He had long wanted to reprimand her, but his position and the family situation made it hard to do so. Now, Isolde’s retort suited him just fine.

As he secretly relished the moment, Priscilla’s question made him look up at Isolde and coldly say, “Eat your food. This is adult business. What does a child have to say?” This was the gentlest reprimand Geoffrey had ever given Isolde, and it almost carried the tone of a father scolding his daughter.

Isolde sighed, “Understood,” with an air of obedience. Priscilla was fuming, feeling like she could choke on her anger.

Geoffrey looked at Clark. “What’s with the blood?”

Clark replied, “I helped a beggar on my way back to the Parliamentary Library today. He was bleeding, and I got some of it on me. I didn’t have time to go back and change.”

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “Were you very late?”

Clark, looking defeated, replied, “I only arrived at the Parliamentary Library around noon.”

Prudence chimed in, “It doesn’t matter if things go wrong. You can always return to your business.”

Clark lifted his gaze, looking at Prudence. “It’s not exactly ruined, but they made me an Imperial Scholar-Apprentice. I think it’s because of Mr. Becker’s recommendation.”

“Imperial Scholar-Apprentice?” Priscilla screeched. Isolde, who had been eating with her head down, startled at the sound, lifting her head to see Priscilla’s face twisted with rage.

“You were appointed Imperial Scholar-Apprentice? What qualifications do you have?” Priscilla spat, her voice sharp and biting. Prudence’s face darkened, but she didn’t say anything, continuing to eat and letting Priscilla have her outbursts.

Clark put down his fork and, addressing Prudence and Geoffrey, bowed slightly. “I’m feeling a little tired. I’ll leave now.”

“Go ahead. Tomorrow, have someone prepare your things. You’ll move to Lamgett Manor,” Geoffrey said.

Priscilla collapsed into her chair, helpless. Clark was made an Imperial Scholar-Apprentice, while her son was in jail. This was all because of him.

“He’s not even a Metropolitan Graduate. How could he be appointed Imperial Scholar-Apprentice? They must be toying with him,” Priscilla mumbled to herself.

Geoffrey responded, “Even though it’s true that only Metropolitan Graduates typically get into the Parliamentary Library, there are exceptions. The current vice-chancellor wasn’t a Metropolitan Graduate either. He joined later, was highly appreciated by the late King, and was granted special permission.”

Isolde coolly said, “Talented people, even if their background isn’t impressive, are always recognized.”

“What talent does he have?” Priscilla sneered. “His teacher is the same as Braden’s, and he’s just a student. What knowledge can he possibly have?”

“Vance and my father are from the same family, and look where they ended up,” Isolde said, setting down her fork. The tension in the room was thick, but she wasn’t interested in adding to it. She preferred to speak with Clark later.

With that, Isolde left, and Geoffrey followed. As Geoffrey walked out, Matilda and Michelle also found an excuse to leave. The dining table was left with only Nicole, who was picking at her food, her thoughts distant.

Priscilla, seeing this, slapped her bowl off the table and shouted, “It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t gone and told them, your brother wouldn’t be in jail, and Clark wouldn’t have been made an Imperial Scholar-Apprentice! How dare you sit here eating?”

Tears streamed down Nicole’s face, but she didn’t sob. Slowly, she stood up, her foot catching on the food on the floor. She stared at it for a moment, sighed softly, and walked out.