Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: The Enemy Exposed, We Concealed — Jane Begins Her First Trade War

“Good evening, Miss Eyre.”

Julian appeared even more rigid than he had four years ago. His stiff suit and meticulously combed hair made him look far older than his twenty years.

He lowered his eyes slightly, his face motionless, sweeping her with a look of near-contempt. “Forgive my intrusion,” he added, “but you were much more likeable when you were merely Eleanor’s companion.”

“And you, Mr. Harrison, are just as stiff and discourteous whether you are a subordinate or a master,” Jane retorted bluntly, unbothered by his mockery.

Julian seemed disinclined to waste words on her. His gaze drifted past her toward Phillips, who was conversing with John Eyre. “If you are looking for a dance partner, Miss Eyre, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. My purpose here is not the diversions of a banquet.”

Confirming that he had no guard up against her, Jane asked with feigned innocence: “I am not here to dance. I have simply heard that your business has been quite hectic lately, Mr. Harrison. It seems… you have encountered a new rival?”

At that moment, the great winemaker and the Procurement Chief nearby shared a laugh over some joke. Julian’s brow furrowed deeper. He noticed people watching him with Jane Eyre; under public scrutiny, he could not lose his composure and abandon a lady who had initiated conversation.

“I wasn’t aware that Miss Eyre took such an interest in matters of trade,” Julian finally turned his impatient gaze toward her, his words sharp. “Did Mr. Eyre never teach you what a lady truly ought to concern herself with?”

“Such an accusation is equally impolite. I recall,” Jane countered, imitating Constance’s sharp tone, “that you always advocated that men shouldn’t interfere with a woman’s upbringing. It seems business has left you quite… frazzled.”

“Frazzled?” Julian let out a cold laugh, as if his tail had been stepped on.

Jane continued with mock naivety: “Naturally. Such a grand move must be for an equally staggering return. All of Madeira is talking about the incredible wealth the Harrisons will amass this time.”

“Wealth?” The disdain almost spilled from the corners of Julian’s mouth. “Miss Eyre, is gold all your kind can see? The Harrisons do not lack money. There are things whose value cannot be bought with gold itself.”

He paused, then added a biting piece of truth, “And this is not the first time I have waited for Mr. Phillips to finish a conversation at a banquet. At least last time, the lady speaking to me was… beautiful enough to distract me from my irritation.”

Jane sighed inwardly, but she had the answer she wanted: Julian was determined to win this deal at any cost, and he had already invested a price heavy enough to cause him visible agitation.

The conversation nearby seemed to conclude. John Eyre and Phillips stood up and exchanged courtesies. The impatience on Julian’s face vanished instantly, replaced by his confident, composed mask.

He shifted his tone as if commenting on a trifle: “As for that ‘rival’ you mentioned… that ‘Anit’ Trading Company… their luck is about to run out.”

He raised his glass to Jane and drained it in one gulp. “Excuse me, Miss Eyre.”

He turned and quickly caught up with the departing Mr. Phillips.

Inside the carriage, the light was dim. John Eyre broke the silence. “The wine Phillips wants… this year’s harvest across Madeira isn’t good. We can’t supply it all alone.” He paused. “But we aren’t dependent on the EIC. It’s fine if it falls through. Jane, don’t feel too much pressure.”

He had clearly seen the exchange with the Harrison boy. His words were a comfort, but they also hinted that his own talk with Phillips hadn’t been optimistic.

“I understand, Father,” Jane replied, her eyes lowered with a hint of fatigue.

In the silence of the carriage, a third person sat in the empty seat beside Jane. Lin Zhao couldn’t pass a note yet, but she used her ghostly connection to relay the vital intel: The exact wine requirements, the staggering quantity, Phillips’ maximum unit price, and the inside scoop on Julian’s private dealings.

Jane’s fingers, hidden at her side, lightly tugged at Lin Zhao’s sleeve to signal she had heard everything.

As the carriage swayed, a storm brewed in Jane’s mind, piecing together the clues. Julian’s confidence was no hollow threat. The Harrisons had no physical wineries in Madeira; they were pure agents. They used British capital to squeeze out small traders, creating a monopoly of influence.

A week ago, Jane thought Julian was just fighting for agency rights. But after several clashes, she realized the truth: he wasn’t looking to represent wineries. He was buying up every bottle of a specific vintage, regardless of cost. He was creating an artificial famine to buy a “position” that money couldn’t buy.

By monopolizing the supply, he would force Phillips to accept a sky-high price under pressure from London. This would secure the Harrisons a seat at the table of Eastern trade for decades to come.

Julian isn’t looking for wealth; he’s looking for an empire.

But Julian’s price manipulation had pushed the market cost dangerously close to Phillips’ ceiling. If Jane followed suit and bought high, profit would be non-existent.

In a game where he wrote the rules, a head-on collision was suicide. Jane opened her eyes in the dark. She understood his madness. It was a grand gamble.

And I will not back down.

She tallied her hidden cards:

1. Anit Trading Company: Already a target and an “enemy” in Julian’s eyes. It was the perfect smoke screen.

2. Lin Zhao’s Hidden Move: The warehouse rented on the Pride of Amsterdam. A ship no one would link to the Eyres.

3. Jane Eyre Herself: A girl whose true identity was unknown and underestimated.

Two days later, a rumor swept through Funchal: a major shipment belonging to the “Anit Trading Company” had been caught in a dock fire while being loaded onto the Hope. Though the fire was extinguished, the rare vintage wines were mostly destroyed.

“What? A fire at the docks?” John Eyre’s face was grim as his steward delivered the news. Beside him, Jane was pale.

“Father, I’m so sorry…” she stammered, her voice choked with sobs. “I shouldn’t have trusted an unknown speculator…”

In the shadows, a gardener at the window quietly slipped away. He hurried back to the Harrison villa.

“Yes, sir,” a spy reported to Julian. “I saw it myself. Shattered bottles everywhere, the smell of wine mixed with seawater. The ‘Anit’ people looked ghostly. They’ve already canceled their remaining contracts with several wineries, citing a lack of funds.”

Another spy from Vine Manor added, “The Eyres are in shock. Miss Eyre specifically mentioned she regretted investing in Anit.”

Julian swirled his wine, a smirk playing on his lips. Lack of funds… invested by the Eyres… just as I thought.

He remembered his spies seeing the cloaked ‘Anit’ figure meeting secretly with Mr. Terry to discuss a high-interest short-term loan authorized by the Eyres. A merchant relying on debt is easy to kill. A small “accident” was all it took to destroy an upstart.

He waved the spies away like dust. He immediately called his deputies to discuss how to swoop in and seize the contracts the “failed” newcomer had dropped.

His triumphant smile remained, unaware that as his spies left, a true shadow detached itself from the villa’s gloom, carrying his arrogance and every one of his next moves back into the darkness.