Chapter 51 Taking Back the Manor +6 Pearls

Harlan returned early in the morning, bringing two people with him. The first was an older man, possibly in his late fifties or early sixties, with graying hair, sun-darkened skin, and a calm, steady demeanor. The second was a thin, frail-looking woman in her fifties, her back slightly hunched. Her hair was entirely white at the temples, and a red birthmark sat squarely in the center of her forehead. Her eyes were small but sharp, lined with countless wrinkles that spoke of hardship and shrewdness. A formidable woman, no doubt.

“Isolde.” Both stepped forward, bowing respectfully. Harlan had already spoken to them on the way back, so they knew who she was—Prunella’s daughter. Their eyes held traces of emotion, a mix of nostalgia and disbelief. Isolde rose to her feet and returned their greeting with a graceful curtsy. “You were both trusted by my mother. It is an honor to meet you.” By addressing them first, and as a junior, she was showing them the highest level of respect.

Jessica Gonzalez, the woman, remained composed, though her tone carried a trace of melancholy. “You’ve grown so much,” she murmured. “The last time I saw her, the late Mrs. Langley was five months pregnant with you. She had swollen terribly—her whole body, even her face and lips were turning blue…Ah…”

Isolde froze. This was the first time she had ever heard anyone mention what her mother had gone through during her pregnancy.

“She was swollen that badly at five months? And her lips and face were blue?” Isolde’s voice was calm, but her fingers tightened against the fabric of her sleeve. “Are you certain?”

“How could I forget?” Jessica replied without hesitation.

In her previous life, Isolde had carried a child. Swelling usually occurred later, around seven or eight months—not five. And blue lips and face? That wasn’t normal. She had studied pregnancy carefully, obsessively questioning doctors during her own. That symptom was a sign of severe anemia, of the body being completely drained of blood and oxygen. But her mother had been a Duchess, wealthy beyond measure. There was no shortage of the finest tonics and medical care. Amber had once mentioned that even Prunella herself had suspected something, going so far as to bring a physician to live within the estate to monitor the pregnancy. With such careful attention, how could her mother have still ended up in such a dire state?

Isolde quietly locked that thought away, making a mental note to investigate further. For now, she turned back to Jessica and the old man, Wade McGee.

“Please, sit,” she said, motioning for them to take their places. She then gestured to Jacqueline. “Bring coffee. And some cakes.” Wade appeared hesitant, sitting stiffly, his hands clasped in his lap as if unsure if he was truly welcome. Jessica, however, was far more at ease. She took one bite of the cake, then another, commenting between them:

“When the jujube plums were thick across the hills, I’d make entire trays of these,” she said. “The field hands would take them along when they went to tend the orchards and fight off pests. But if they were too sweet, they’d get thirsty, and a thirsty worker is a useless worker. This? No good, no good.”

Jacqueline, who had prepared the food, scowled. “If it’s so bad, why are you eating so much of it?” she muttered.

Jessica cast her a sidelong glance. “Because Isolde offered them to me,” she said pointedly. “And if she told me to take them home, I’d take every last one.”

Jacqueline rolled her eyes and stepped aside, muttering under her breath, “Cheap and greedy.”

Jessica heard but pretended not to, stuffing another cake into her mouth before looking at Isolde. “Isolde,” she said, wiping her hands, “may I take some with me?”

“You may,” Isolde replied smoothly, though her gaze flickered to Helena briefly in silent command.

Jessica beamed. “Thank you, Isolde.”

But before she could leave, Isolde spoke again. “There’s no rush to go,” she said. Her gaze swept over both of them. “I asked Harlan to bring you back because I want to know—would the two of you be willing to return to Montlins Manor? To help me?”

Both Jessica and Wade hesitated. Jessica put down the cake slowly, watching Isolde carefully. “You’re offering us work?” she asked, cautious. For the first time in years, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope. If she stayed here, the children wouldn’t go hungry.

But Montlins Manor didn’t belong to Isolde. It belonged to Matilda and Michelle. “Isolde,” Jessica continued, her voice turning sharp with suspicion, “whose decision is this? Yours? Or Matilda’s?”

Isolde met her gaze directly. “Mine.”

Jessica let out a dry laugh, taking a sip of water. “This manor isn’t under your control, though.” She leaned back slightly, a trace of defiance in her posture. “Do you even know why Wade and I left? We were caught stealing—thrown in prison for a year. After that, we were exiled.”

“Did you actually steal?” Isolde asked.

Jessica didn’t hesitate. “We did.” She exhaled sharply. “But we already paid the price. If Matilda and Michelle want to punish us further, then let them come and find me.”

“What exactly did you steal?” Isolde asked, her voice dangerously calm.

Jessica’s expression darkened. “After Mrs. Langley died, they ordered all of her belongings to be burned,” she said. “Wade and I took what we could before they destroyed everything.”

Isolde’s gaze sharpened. “Burning a deceased person’s belongings—isn’t that a common practice?” she asked.

Jessica shot to her feet. “Not everything is burned,” she snapped. “People keep mementos. But they wanted to erase her entirely.”

A chill crept down Isolde’s spine. Jessica took a deep breath, then bowed stiffly. “I’ve seen you now. That’s enough for me. I won’t waste any more of your time.”

She reached for Wade, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

Wade hesitated. “Isolde really does look like Mrs. Langley,” he murmured.

“She’s not her,” Jessica said shortly. “We’ve seen her. That’s enough.”

“Are you truly unwilling to stay?” Isolde asked.

Wade scratched his head, looking conflicted. “It’s not that we don’t want to,” he said sheepishly. “It’s that Matilda won’t allow it. And even if she does, Estella, Randy, and the others will never let us live in peace. They’ll make things difficult for us every day.”

Isolde’s voice was quiet but firm. “They won’t be able to.”

She turned to Helena. “Summon them.”

Helena bowed and left the room. Moments later, Estella entered first, followed by Randy—who had to be helped in. Behind them came Otto and several other estate managers. Otto stepped forward, dropping a thick ledger onto the table. “Isolde,” he said, his voice laced with feigned politeness. “I assume you’d like to see the accounts? Here they are. Montlins Manor has been running at a loss for years. If you don’t believe me, feel free to inspect the records yourself.”

Jessica’s face turned red with fury. “You’re lying!” she snapped. “Montlins Manor has never been unprofitable! The jujube harvest alone should be enough to make a fortune every year! And the fruit merchants—prices have only been rising! How can you claim losses? Unless you’ve been stealing!”

The room fell into tense silence. The estate managers exchanged wary glances. Then, Estella let out a mocking laugh.

“Well, well,” she sneered. “If it isn’t the thieves themselves. What, did you crawl back to beg for scraps? Montlins Manor doesn’t welcome the likes of you. Leave before we throw you down the mountain.”