Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Convergence of Timelines — Who is Mr. Lint’s True Trading Partner?

The room Terry prepared wasn’t large, but it was fully equipped with a bed, desk, and lamp. Compared to the places she had been resting lately, it was quite comfortable.

Lin Zhao nodded goodbye to Terry, her movements carrying a trace of genuine joy. However, as soon as she saw him out, she locked the door, sat at the desk, and turned out her belongings to organize them.

Having just deposited her earnings, she didn’t have much cash on her—just a small leather pouch. There was also her custom-made waist bag hidden under her cloak, containing her original clothes (she needed to change into her custom outfit to handle the impromptu invitation), as well as some paper, pens, and envelopes for communication. The deposit slips were tucked among them.

She took out the stationery, wrote several notes, and placed them in envelopes. After counting her items one last time, she took off her cloak and lay down on the bed.

Lin Zhao let out a sigh of relief at the long-awaited comfort. Upon looking up, she saw a phantom suddenly appear by the bedside.

“Rare to see you actually willing to rest today,” the woman teased, her hair pinned back, fine wrinkles visible under her eyes. “‘Mr. Lint,’ your talent for business is quite striking. Perhaps you should have studied economics and trade in university?”

“Is that something someone who has to work part-time to save for tuition should consider?” Lin Zhao sighed at this “Jane.” “But dealing with people is so exhausting. Do you think Jane would really want to do this? Should I have mentioned the merchant thing to her so early?”

“Jane” remained noncommittal. She glanced at Lin Zhao’s belongings on the desk and continued her teasing: “Regardless, you’re doing well. If all else fails, let her be your assistant. Though I wonder if Mr. Eyre would be willing.”

Lin Zhao gave her a strange look. “Why call him that? Isn’t he your uncle too?”

The woman’s raised eyebrows flattened, her smile vanishing. “My uncle died a long time ago. There was no fairy godmother to help me back then. Speaking of which, I actually envy her.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you both Jane?” Before Lin Zhao could finish, the phantom flickered and vanished.

Lin Zhao had long since given up trying to understand the “Jane” who came and went as she pleased. In the now-silent room, she closed her eyes and took a brief, dreamless rest.

When she opened her eyes again, it was still pitch black outside. Lin Zhao changed back into her original clothes, intending to resume her “wall-scaling” activities. She had become increasingly proficient in using her spectral-like abilities and knew exactly at what point she would collapse from exhaustion. She had gathered a lot of information this way.

Tonight, however, was different from those casual nights. Her destination had a clear purpose, and it would determine whether everything planned for tomorrow—the last day before the ball—could be executed.

She moved several items to block the door, ensuring it couldn’t be easily opened from the outside, then left the trading firm.

The moon, witness to everything, sank slowly as the sun rose as usual. As dawn broke, the goods being unloaded at Madeira’s docks were fewer than usual. Most of the ships arriving today carried tourists, many of whom were there for the ball.

The island’s tailor shops were flooded with orders. Servants picking up altered garments for their masters formed long lines outside, stretching even to the front of two neighboring English cafes.

Several fashionably dressed young ladies sat at a scenic table in one of them, chatting idly.

“I want to talk to Mama now,” Eleanor whispered, leaning her head closer to Jane.

Jane instinctively looked at Mrs. Harrison and Miss Constance across from them. They were discussing where to pick up new accessories after getting the clothes, completely oblivious to the girls’ secret conversation.

Beatrice set down her coffee cup and joined in a low voice: “Telling her might not change the outcome. Have you thought it through?”

The commotion between Eleanor and Jane last night hadn’t been small. As soon as Beatrice woke up this morning, she asked what they were doing and learned about their conversation.

Eleanor nodded, her usual smile gone, replaced by an expression of deep seriousness.

Jane echoed her firmly: “Do it.”

Having received their support, Eleanor took a deep breath, looked up, and called out, “Mama,” successfully drawing the attention of the two ladies.

“What is it, Lina? Are you still feeling unwell? Do you want to go back first?” Mrs. Harrison asked with concern, seeing her daughter’s serious face.

When Eleanor had appeared that morning with swollen eyes, Mrs. Harrison had been startled, though Eleanor had brushed it off by saying she hadn’t slept well.

Miss Constance noticed the equally serious expressions on the other two girls. Her gaze sharpened, vaguely guessing what was happening. She reached out and patted Mrs. Harrison’s hand. “Don’t worry, Cecilia. Let’s hear what Lina has to say.”

She gave Eleanor an encouraging look.

Eleanor’s nose stung. She took several more deep breaths before speaking her heart under her mother’s worried gaze.

“Mama, do I have to be betrothed right now?”

Mrs. Harrison’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t seem to understand, asking instinctively, “Betrothed? What’s the matter with that? It’s not as if you’re being married off this instant.”

She reached out to touch Eleanor’s eyes, shifting the topic whether intentionally or not: “It seems you really aren’t adapting to the climate here. Mama will take you to buy some soothing incense later; there are a few shops nearby.”

At her mother’s touch and those familiar, caring words intended to dissolve all problems, Eleanor’s hard-won courage began to crumble. She leaned into her mother’s palm, her eyes stinging, unable to speak for a moment.

Miss Constance watched Eleanor’s wavering expression and then fixed her gaze on her sister-in-law, who was using “tenderness” to stifle resistance. She could no longer stand it.

“This has nothing to do with the climate, Cecilia!” Her voice was thick with dissatisfaction, tearing through the veil of sentimentality. “The pressure you and Edward are putting on Lina is too much! Marriage shouldn’t be an ‘eventuality’ taken for granted. She should grow up more and consider these things herself! Can you really not see why she is crying?”

Mrs. Harrison froze. She looked up, and for the first time, she directed a stern, warning look at her unconventional sister-in-law. “Constance, enough. Choosing to pursue your own life is your choice, but you should not use your ideas to ‘pollute’ a well-behaved child—”

“No, Mama…” a weak but clear voice interrupted her.

Eleanor pulled away from her mother’s hand. She kept her head down, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes, her hands tightly clutching her skirt. Her voice was dry and trembling: “Auntie is… right. I… I really… I really don’t want to settle a betrothal so early…”

As if those words had drained all her courage, tears flooded from her eyes.

“What…” The color drained from Mrs. Harrison’s face. She seemed completely unable to comprehend her daughter’s words, her eyes full of confusion and hurt. “Lina, aren’t you the most obedient? You know that Mama and Papa always have your best interests at heart…”

“If Edward truly had her best interests at heart, he would leave her a fortune of her own, instead of thinking about selling her to a wealthy family to exchange for his commercial future!” Miss Constance couldn’t help but sneer as she mentioned her brother.

Mrs. Harrison sighed tiredly, ignoring the provocation. She took out a handkerchief, gently wiped her daughter’s tears, and then stood up, pulling Eleanor up decisively.

“We need some fresh air. Please wait for the clothes here.” Her tone brooked no argument as she almost forcefully led Eleanor away.

Jane instinctively wanted to follow, but Beatrice caught her wrist. Miss Constance watched the retreating backs of the Harrison mother and daughter and shook her head at the girls. “It’s alright. Since Lina said it out loud, Cece will listen to her properly. As for the rest, we are powerless.”

Jane had to sit back down. She watched the direction they had gone, silently praying in her heart.

I hope things are going more smoothly for Lin…

Speaking of Lin, she felt as if she was starting to hallucinate because they hadn’t met in so long. When she woke up this morning, she even felt as though someone had been there last night, gently touching her forehead.

“…?”

Lin Zhao instinctively looked up. There was a long queue in front of the tailor shop she was passing, but they were all unfamiliar faces. She withdrew her gaze and continued through the crowd without stopping.

Thanks to the influx of tourists, Lin Zhao moved through the bustling market quite comfortably. She wasn’t wearing her cloak—she was in her own clothes—yet she didn’t have to worry about the confusion of those she brushed past.

She had been busy since dawn and had only just completed all her preparations. Finally, it was time to go back and deal with Mr. Mason. To save time, she avoided the main roads, weaving through alleys back to the trading firm. Finding the location of her room, she returned inside in a “straight line” and changed her clothes.

As soon as she went downstairs, Lin Zhao realized something was wrong. Terry stood at the counter and nodded to her. “Good day, Mr. Lint.” The trading firm was completely empty.

Had they cleared the place for this Mr. Mason?

She waved to Terry in response, purposely maintaining a calm expression as she walked toward the exit. As expected, Terry caught up within two steps.

“Sir, my Master is about to arrive. Please wait a moment—breakfast is prepared in the drawing room.” He stood in her way, though his tone remained respectful.

They intended to keep her here. Lin Zhao understood.

Seeing her remain still, Terry lowered his head even further and led the way: “Please follow me.”

Regardless, based on the time, Mason wouldn’t be able to hold her for long. Lin Zhao followed him with composure.

I wonder, she thought, how the ‘guests’ I ‘visited’ last night are feeling now that they’ve received their ‘gifts’?

When his daughter and wife knocked and entered, Edward Harrison had just finished reading a letter that had appeared on his desk from nowhere. Julian had just been sent away on an errand, so he was alone. He looked up, and his tightened brow relaxed slightly.

“…What is it? Aren’t you preparing for the ball?”

Eleanor tensed her back. The heat of her mother’s hand on her lower back made her feel like there was nowhere to escape.

“Lina, don’t you have something to say to Papa?” Mrs. Harrison’s voice was as gentle as ever. She hadn’t taken Eleanor to any incense shop; she had returned straight to the villa after leaving the cafe. In the carriage, after hearing her daughter’s words, she had actually smiled, saying that these words should be spoken to her father instead.

Edward scanned his wife’s smile—which didn’t reach her eyes—sensing the purpose of their visit.

“…Papa,” Eleanor was no stranger to this scene, yet her head spun and she didn’t dare look up. “I don’t want to be betrothed to the Ford family.” Her voice trembled; she practically shouted the sentence, her phrasing becoming inadvertently blunt.

Edward’s brow furrowed deeper than it had before they entered. Half an hour ago, he would have said nothing and simply had Cecilia lead Eleanor out. He didn’t consider educating children his responsibility, especially regarding such “nonsense.”

But he still had his hand pressed over a letter signed by that information broker—the one he’d sent men to follow yesterday, only to lose him. At the thought of his spy being knocked out in an alley, causing him to lose the target’s trail, a fire burned in his chest.

No, he knew where that Lint was now. In this letter, the other party had quite boldly pierced through his spying plan.

“I have heard of Your Excellency’s recent conduct, and I fear it contradicts Mr. Giannette’s intentions for cooperation. Furthermore, I hear your daughter is already betrothed. As such, whether it be commercial prospects or a family alliance, all becomes empty talk.

To my knowledge, the Ford family’s intentions are not firm. Whether rumors are true remains to be seen. However, before I report to Mr. Giannette, if you have anything to clarify, you may come to the Mason Firm tomorrow for a talk.”

That damned Lint—some kind of tongueless ghost from who-knows-where.

In his irritation, he lashed out at his daughter with uncharacteristic rudeness. “Eleanor Harrison, do you know what you are saying? The expenses at Whalewood were to make you a lady worthy of the Harrison name, yet you’ve learned bad habits from Constance.”

Eleanor shrank back, but her mother stopped her retreat. Her tears flowed immediately.

At that moment, a knock sounded, and Julian’s voice came through: “Father.”

Edward spoke coldly, telling Julian to enter. His son was like him—eyes straight ahead—as he walked to his father’s ear and whispered the news he had just gathered: “The Mason Firm is closed for half the day today.”

Closed for half the day during such a crowded time? Edward’s eyes shifted. Connecting this to Lint’s letter, he confirmed the news he’d heard recently—Mr. Mason was arriving on the island any day now.

In business, opportunities were fleeting. He quickly organized his plans and made a desperate decision. He turned to his wife and daughter, his face cold: “The matter of marriage is not for you to decide. However, you are no longer a child. If you dislike the Ford family, then as you wish, I will find you another. As for the Fords, you will explain it to them yourselves at the ball.”

With that, he called Julian and left the room without looking back, heading urgently for the firm.

At the same time, in the magnificent “Grapevine Villa” overlooking Funchal harbor, the master of the estate, John Eyre, was laying out the letters he had received over the past few days, weighing each one.

A few days ago, when he first received a letter from a stranger, he was considering whether to decline the ball in a few days. He had heard many families intended to use the occasion for alliances, and since he was still a bachelor, he had received many probes. He had little desire to attend such an event. John was weighing whether to skip the night to arrange his business more tightly, so he could clear some time to return to England before winter.

During his brief visit to Gateshead, he had sensed from Mrs. Reed’s attitude that his niece, Jane Eyre, was very much disliked. Unfortunately, the wine business in Madeira was thriving, and he truly couldn’t get away. Even if he sent for her, he wouldn’t have time to care for her, so he had focused on his career for the time being.

But that letter had directly stated his concern, providing news of Jane.

“Mr. Eyre, I once had a brief encounter with your niece, Jane Eyre, in England, and informed her of your existence. She was extremely delighted to hear of you. I am happy to see kinsmen reunited and wish to tell you that she is a truly excellent and kind child, having achieved great academic success this year.”

“If you wish to discuss this matter, you may send a reply to the firm, addressed to “Giannette,” to prevent the letter from being pried into.”

This was heartwarming news. He hadn’t hesitated to reply and had exchanged letters with this person for several days. He had pressed for the writer’s identity, but the other party only said he had nothing to disclose for now, and if John had concerns, he could stop writing.

John Eyre naturally wouldn’t let the opportunity go. He sent someone to see who collected the mail, only to learn that no one took the letters. The next day, the reply would simply appear on his desk on time.

It was eerie. Thus, he stopped writing, only for a letter from the recently famous Mr. Lint to be delivered by a coachman that afternoon. The tone was clearly similar to that of “Giannette,” but the content had changed from casual and warm to startling news.

“Mr. Eyre, matters have changed; I must inform you under another identity. Your niece, Miss Jane Eyre, is indeed on the island right now, but she is being held by the Harrison family. They intend to use her as a bargaining chip to extract commercial benefits from you.”

“I intended to wait for the ball to help you two reunite, but Harrison has other plans and has isolated me from the lady. If you trust me, can you provide assistance to break this situation?”

He was truly shocked, unsure whether to be more surprised by the identity of his correspondent or the news that Jane was on the island being held captive. He didn’t reply but sent people to investigate. Learning that the Harrison daughter indeed had two friends with her, the scales in his heart tipped.

He wrote a reply and was waiting to send it the next day, only to receive a letter on his desk early that morning. The reply requested him to go to the firm this morning to vouch for himself. This Mr. Lint was truly as elusive as rumors said, but since it concerned Jane, he could only offer a bit of trust.

Reviewing the letters, he found many suspicious points. But if there were to be a confrontation, meeting in person was always better than writing. John Eyre made up his mind, took the latest letter, and boarded a carriage for the firm.

The carriage stopped outside the trading firm, the sound echoing in the empty hall. Terry had been waiting for a long time. He opened the door and bowed respectfully to the gentleman in the top hat who stepped inside: “Good day, Mr. Mason.”

Jonas Mason, a wealthy merchant known in Madeira for being “honey-tongued but cold-hearted,” was uncharacteristically devoid of smiles today. He walked straight through the hall and, led by Terry, pushed open the drawing room door.

Inside, the legendary “Mr. Lint” was sitting quietly at the table, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

“You are Lint?” Jonas Mason offered no pleasantries. He walked to the table, leaning his hands on it and looking down at the figure shrouded in the shadow of the hood.

“I’ve never heard of a Mr. ‘Giannette.’ Don’t play these games of mystery in front of me. Tell me honestly who is behind you, or else get out of Madeira immediately. Don’t even dream of sneaking into tomorrow night’s ball!”

Lin Zhao remained seated and unmoved. She merely pushed over a pre-prepared note in a leisurely manner. Jonas Mason picked up the note impatiently. His eyes scanned it, and his face changed instantly.

“Oh? Whether my information is true, Mr. Mason should know in his heart. Does it displease you so much just because it’s a bit secretive? Well, if I also knew some family matters Mr. Mason wouldn’t want anyone to know—for instance, the true current whereabouts of your daughter, Miss Bertha Mason… I fear you would want to board a ship and leave Madeira yourself without me asking.”

Jonas Mason’s gaze turned cold. He snapped his hand out, tearing the thin slip of paper to shreds. “Who… exactly are you?” he squeezed out through his teeth, his voice suppressed with terror and rage.

Just then, the drawing room door was knocked on urgently. Terry’s voice came from outside, carrying a hint of panic: “Sir! Mr. Harrison says he has a long-standing appointment with Mr. Lint and demands an immediate meeting!”

The show had officially begun.

Under her cloak, Lin Zhao adjusted her posture slightly, sitting more firmly. Jonas Mason’s brow was tightly knit as he glared at Lin Zhao. Ultimately, he suppressed his anger, turned, and strode out. He wanted to confront this Edward Harrison who had appeared out of nowhere.

In the hall, the two merchants—both heavyweights in their respective fields—met formally for the first time. The air was thick with tension.

“Mr. Harrison,” Jonas said with a fake smile, “A newcomer, yet such a grand gesture. If you want to do business in Madeira, you can talk to me. Why seek out some ‘middleman’ of unknown origin?”

“Mr. Mason jokes,” Edward replied with an equally false smile, his words laced with needles. “Who doesn’t know the wine business in Madeira is in your hands? Surely, you are also unwilling to share a piece of the pie easily.”

After several rounds of verbal sparring, the topic eventually circled back to the person in the room.

“Are you really going to trade with that unidentified person?” Jonas lowered his voice, offering a “kind” warning.

Edward sneered, his suspicion that Lint had nothing to do with the Masons becoming three parts more certain. “If he didn’t have real skill, why would you, Mr. Mason, grace us with your presence on the busiest business day of the year?”

Jonas was left speechless. Just as he was about to retort, the firm’s main door opened for the third time.

John Eyre had arrived.