SMR | Chapter 59

~Chapter 59~

Harriet was now a popular guest at Annabel Leighton’s tea parties and gatherings.

At this one, themed “The Mood of Autumn”, Annabel had seated Harriet close to her.

“Isn’t the weather lovely these days? The breeze is refreshing, and the falling leaves feel so romantic.”

“You really have to be careful during spring bloom and this season. You might fall in love with just anyone.”

Everyone laughed at the joke.

Warm tea and delicious pastries made the girls’ chatter all the more lively.

They exchanged the latest gossip and juicy bits of information.

“Oh, did you hear about Viviana Dellus?”

“Viviana Dellus? Oh! One of Bella Listerwell’s inner circle, right?”

At the mention of Bella, the girls glanced at Harriet. She was Bella’s cousin, after all—they worried she might take offense.

But Harriet calmly split her financier cake and ate it as if nothing had happened.

Reassured, the one who had brought up the topic continued excitedly:

“She’s no longer one of Bella’s close group. Apparently, she was kicked out.”

“What happened?”

“I heard there was a petty fight at a party Bella hosted. Viviana didn’t apologize, so they stopped speaking from then on.”

Then, unexpectedly, Harriet—who had seemed disinterested—joined in.

“What exactly happened?”

The young lady who started the story furrowed her brow, trying to remember.

“Bella was handing out La Bonaz cream as party favors, and Viviana loudly said it wasn’t that great. It was rude, I guess.”

Another girl chimed in, “Viviana likes a man named Adam Hoffner, but he has feelings for Bella. So Viviana was always jealous and picking fights.”

“And they say Viviana was the least pretty among Bella’s group. She must have held in a lot.”

“Still, picking a fight at Bella’s party? Maybe she had too much to drink.”

Laughter filled the room again.

Harriet smiled faintly and sipped her tea. The topic soon shifted to a noblewoman’s new dress, and everyone forgot about Viviana.

But Harriet couldn’t stop thinking about her.

‘Sounds familiar. Someone who’s always been fine is suddenly called a jealous, rude girl? That’s just like what happened to me.’

Harriet remembered Viviana Dellus clearly.

She had once come to Harriet in person, saying she had a crush on someone attending Bella’s party and asking for extra soap.

If she liked someone, there’s no way she’d go out of her way to insult Bella there.

It was likely the same thing that had happened to Harriet before.

After mingling politely, Harriet went home and immediately wrote a letter to Viviana:

***

“Dear Miss Viviana Dellus,

…At a recent gathering, I heard a troubling rumor. But I, for one, do not believe it. I’m sure the story was twisted unfairly against you.

I recently bought strawberry tea from Eleanor’s Suite Room, and it’s so good I can’t drink it alone.

If you ever feel like having a warm cup of tea, please write back.”

***

She folded the letter, sealed it with her personal wax stamp, and then got up to send it—when another name came to mind.

She hesitated.

“Should I write or not?”

There were things she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure if that person would welcome her letter.

After a moment of indecision, the pen finally touched the paper:

***

“Dear Miss Daphne Laurel,

How is your health these days?

As an apology for my past rudeness, I’ve sent a gift—lavender facial mist from St. Clarissa Soap & Herbs. I hope you’ll accept it.

There’s no other meaning behind it. I just wish a soothing scent accompanies your day.”

***

Since Daphne wasn’t someone she could casually speak to, Harriet skipped even the usual small talk about the weather.

After reading over both letters, she took out the two bottles of facial mist she had bought after meeting Daphne and wrapped them carefully—one for Viviana, one for Daphne.

If they accept them, great. If not… nothing I can do.

Still, she sincerely hoped they would understand her intentions. Harriet called for a messenger.

***

A few days later, Harriet received a heartwarming reply:

***

“Dear Miss Harriet,

…Your gift and the kindness in your letter moved me deeply. Thank you.

If it’s not too bold, I would love to join you for tea sometime.

– Viviana Dellus”

***

Harriet had thought there was a 50/50 chance that Viviana might resent her or welcome her letter—but thankfully, it turned out to be the latter.

However, no reply came from Daphne. Not that the gift had been returned either.

Ordinarily, if someone accepted a gift, it was common courtesy to send a thank-you note, and Daphne wasn’t someone who would ignore such etiquette. That made it a little puzzling.

‘Still, I should just be relieved that she didn’t reject the gift. Let’s just call it a bit of promotional effort,’ Harriet told herself, brushing off her disappointment.

***

But Daphne herself couldn’t brush it off so easily.

‘What am I going to do with this?’

She sighed while fiddling with the lavender mist that was already half used.

When Harriet’s gift and letter had arrived days earlier, Daphne had first felt genuine warmth.

Though brief, the letter felt honest, and Daphne had gratefully accepted the gift, even spraying it on her pillow that very night.

‘How should I write my reply?’

With a slightly fluttering heart, she took out her prettiest stationery and lifted her pen.

She started with:

“Dear Miss Harriet Listerwell,”

—but then angrily scratched out “Listerwell” with two bold lines. She wasn’t ready to use that name affectionately yet.

Using that now-scrapped sheet as a draft, she started writing down everything she wanted to say, a bit clumsily:

***

“…I’m sorry for what happened back then. I must’ve caused you a lot of trouble. And yet you reached out with such kindness… I can’t thank you enough.

The lavender mist you sent was lovely—I tried it on my pillow, and it really does smell wonderful. I think I’ll sleep well tonight.

If it’s not too bold, would it be possible for us to meet someday? I’d love to share a cup of tea.”

***

After carefully rewriting the letter on a new sheet, Daphne smiled brightly for the first time in a while.

She called her maid and asked her to deliver the letter.

But…

‘I should have sent it through a proper courier.’

Daphne sighed again.

That day, her maid went downstairs with the letter and ran into the butler.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, sir! The young lady asked me to deliver a letter.”

“Is that so? Give it to me—I was about to send one of the earl’s letters anyway. I’ll include this with it.”

The maid handed over the letter without a second thought.

But the moment the butler saw the name “Listerwell” on the envelope, he stiffened—and immediately brought it to Earl Laurel.

Naturally, the earl was outraged.

“I still get chills just hearing the name Listerwell, and now Harriet Listerwell? Why would you have anything to do with that girl—of all people?”

Daphne was summoned and, though flustered, tried to defend Harriet.

She insisted Harriet had cut ties with her family and changed.

But her father wouldn’t be persuaded.

“Nonsense! You need to choose your friends wisely. Get caught up with that troublemaker, and who knows what kind of rumors you’ll be dragged into. I’m burning this.”

Without hesitation, he tossed the letter into the fireplace.

From that point on, Earl Laurel personally checked all of Daphne’s letters, and because of that, she hadn’t been able to send a reply for over ten days.

She continued to use the lavender mist daily—it really did help her sleep.

‘It’s going to look so rude if I don’t respond… What should I do?’

Daphne could only let out long, heavy sighs.

***

Meanwhile, Harriet—guessing that Viviana had truly distanced herself from Bella—sent another letter inviting her to tea, a week after receiving her reply.

Viviana happily responded that she’d love to come.

“I’m inviting a guest into my room for the first time.”

She politely declined Trisha’s offer to use the drawing room.

After all, she had invited just one person, and she didn’t want to give the impression that she was showing off the Pellon family’s power.

‘I’ll serve strawberry tea, and pair it with raspberry cake and chocolate financiers…’

As Harriet carefully planned the tea herself, a soft, contented smile spread across her face.