Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Little Jane the Worker — The Praying Mantis and the Oriole

“Sir, hello… does the winery need temporary help today? I want… I want to earn some medicine money for my sick father.”

At the gates of the Correa family winery, a girl of fifteen or sixteen timidly peeked her head out. She wore a cotton dress washed until it was white; her pale face was etched with anxiety, and charcoal stains lingered on the fingers tightly clutching her hem.

During this season, many wineries would hire teenagers as cheap labor—those old enough to handle the delicate tasks of bottling but young enough to be paid by the day to meet the soaring orders.

Fendi glanced at the girl and signaled the other workers to open the gate.

“Come in,” he waved impatiently, pointing in a direction. “Go to the bottling workshop and help seal the bottles. Be quick with your hands.”

The girl flinched at his tone, her shy eyes turning to the ground as she walked lightly toward the workshop. Once out of sight, she immediately straightened her back, her gaze becoming sharp and cold.

“Lin, go check the locked cellar area. I’ll stay here to see if the workers say anything. Meet me at clock-out.”

After whispering to the air, Jane lowered her eyes again, reverted to the timid girl, and entered the workshop.

In this manner, she had quietly infiltrated several wineries that had refused to cooperate with Julian. On the surface, their reason for refusal was that “stock is sold out,” but Jane knew these were excuses to avoid the market’s volatility.

She worked silently—wiping barrels, organizing labels—but her ears caught every word between the vintners and laborers. At the Correa winery, she confirmed their arrogant refusal to associate with speculators; at the Silva estate, she heard the workers’ conflicting feelings of envy and disdain for the high prices Harrison was offering.

Now, she had entered the last winery on her list: Goldstone Winery, the starting point of this conflict, which had reportedly suffered heavy losses due to the root louse infestation.

Although both her father and Lin Zhao had confirmed that the original supplier couldn’t deliver, Jane wanted to see for herself.

Upon entering the workshop, she frowned. The number of blenders present didn’t look like an operation with reduced orders. They were buried in work, none even reacting to her presence. Jane walked toward the bottling area, her eyes roaming toward the blending zone.

Madeira is famous for its blended wines rather than single-vintage ones. On the barrels behind the blenders, she saw many labels, but none for the specific vintage she and Julian were fighting over.

Not even enough for blending? Is the stock truly that low, or are they preparing something else?

“Hey! What are you looking at? Get over here!” A shout interrupted her prying. Jane lowered her head and quickened her pace.

Since her excuse for entry was work, she had to finish her tasks. Though she had been “Miss Eyre” for three years, the muscle memory of labor from Gateshead remained. Time passed easily in the repetition.

By nightfall, the workers poured out of the workshop. Lin Zhao, having finished her scouting early, walked beside Jane, placing a hand behind her waist to gently push and help her save energy. Jane was too tired to lift her eyelids, listening idly to the chatter around her.

“…It’s strange. The best Sercial vineyards were destroyed this year, yet we’re as busy bottling as ever. I wonder where the boss got so much wine…”

“A winery sells more than one type of wine. What’s so strange about that?”

Hearing this, Lin Zhao added in a low voice: “I checked the cellar. The stock of that specific wine is indeed very low.”

Jane let out a breath. It seemed Julian was indeed the only one she needed to guard against.

Ever since the night of the banquet, Jane had given up on competing with Julian on sheer quantity.

Instead, she had manufactured an “accident”—though it was a ruse, as the “destroyed” wine was safe in the Dutch warehouse—and released the rest of her contracts. Lin Zhao confirmed that Julian had swooped in to grab those contracts over the last few days.

From the start, this smoke screen had one purpose: to let Julian bask in a victory that felt within reach, so he wouldn’t bother with the wineries that had already rejected him.

Jane’s exhaustion from infiltrating these places wasn’t about counting spare stock; it was to confirm one fact: did the proud, old-fashioned wineries who refused Julian have hidden caches of the same vintage, but of higher quality?

The answer was yes. Because Goldstone was the main supplier, other wineries didn’t produce this wine on a large scale; they kept it as private reserves or “boutique” stock for guests.

Julian was piecing together his massive order from various sources, leading to inconsistent quality. Jane’s goal was to gather the dispersed, high-quality stock. According to the EIC documents Lin Zhao stole, the order wasn’t just for the rank-and-file; it was for officers and high-ranking officials. Phillips needed quantity, but he needed quality to answer to his superiors.

She would use this irreplaceable “premium stock” to secure a seat at the negotiation table.

Now, after confirming Goldstone had no hidden hand, all the puzzle pieces were in place. Except for the hardest part: convincing the proudest, most stubborn owner on the island—Mr. Barros.

“Lin,” Jane said as they reached the carriage, her eyes bright despite her fatigue. “We’re going to see Mr. Barros. We must win him over tonight.”

Inside the carriage, Jane changed into formal clothes. The night air was cold, and a chill crawled up her spine, settling heavily in her heart. She instinctively reached out and gripped the ghost lady’s hand. Lin Zhao froze for a second before squeezing back.

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

Jane’s heart trembled. A bit of the cold turned into unshed tears, but she forced the emotion down. “To Rock Manor,” she called out.

That night, Mr. Barros secretly received a visitor. When the guest removed her hood, he was shocked to see a young girl.

“I am glad you would see me, Mr. Barros. My name is Jane Eyre. I am here to talk about the wine whose price has been fluctuating wildly lately.”

Barros’s first reaction was to her gender. John Eyre’s child… is a girl?

His mind raced. Rumors about the heir had been vague, but everyone assumed it was a boy. If John Eyre was sending a girl to plead for help, he must be at his wit’s end.

He’s desperate, Barros thought smugly. The ‘Anit’ front failed, and now they send a girl. Moreover, if the heir was a woman, the Eyre estate would eventually be swallowed up by marriage. If he helped her now, he could gain leverage for the future and stick it to the arrogant Harrison boy.

“Mr. Barros,” Jane said, leaning into his calculated thoughts. She bowed slightly. “I know the attempt to resist Mr. Harrison has failed. My father thought we wouldn’t need to trouble a pillar of Madeira like yourself, but Julian Harrison’s ambition is greater than we imagined. If he succeeds, the foundation of all Madeira trade will suffer. I have come to ask for your help.”

The flattery hit the mark. Barros loved being called a “pillar of Madeira.”

“Miss Eyre, no need for that,” he waved grandly. “I’ve heard of the Harrisons’ methods. Quite unseemly.”

The fish was on the hook.

“I wish to purchase your stock of this wine secretly,” Jane pushed a list forward. “We can negotiate the price. I only ask that you keep this deal a secret from everyone—especially Mr. Harrison—until the final EIC meeting.”

Greed and pride were the best negotiators. Barros reached out his hand. “Since you came in person, I have no reason not to help. To our… successful cooperation.”

Leaving the manor, Jane’s unease didn’t dissipate.

“Go to the docks,” she told the driver.

Late at night, in the belly of the Pride of Amsterdam, Jane and Lin Zhao stood among rows of wine barrels.

“Everything is on track,” Lin Zhao whispered, checking the list. “With Mr. Barros’s stock, we hold exactly one-fifth of the order. Julian cannot form a total monopoly. Mr. Phillips doesn’t want to be a puppet of the Harrisons; with us offering high-quality stock, we have a seat at the table.”

Jane didn’t answer. She walked to a barrel and traced a chalk label.

A winery sells more than one type of wine…

She turned around, her voice raspy. “Lin, let me see the copy of the EIC order again.”

Lin Zhao handed it over. Jane spread the paper under the dim oil lamp. Her eyes scanned the “Product Specifications” column and froze on an inconspicuous code.

Category: Sercial, 1805 Spec Code: QA/C-Std

She looked up, her face pale with an ominous realization. “Lin, how do you read this code, ‘C-Std’?”

“My contact said it means ‘Standard Grade C.’ Large-scale purchases usually specify a baseline grade.”

“No…” Jane shook her head slowly. “My father once showed me the internal EIC spec sheets. ‘QA’ is Quality Assurance, but ‘C-Std’ isn’t a grade. It stands for… ‘Composite Standard.'”

Lin Zhao’s face went cold.

“Composite Standard,” Jane whispered. “It means this order isn’t for a single product from a single winery. It requires a specific recipe—a blend of different wines—to reach the final standard.”

The smoke screen hadn’t just fooled Julian. In their rush to counter him, they had missed the most vital detail.

The wine they had been fighting over wasn’t the final product. It was merely one of the ingredients.