Transmigrated as Jane’s Ghostly Godmother - Chapter 53

Chapter 53: A Temporary Conclusion — “Does Mr. Lintner Have His Eye On My Daughter…?”

Arriving at the trading company in disguise, Jane noticed the atmosphere was unusually lively the moment she pushed open the door. She spotted Lin Zhao immediately, seated at a table surrounded by a crowd. The heavy hood dipped slightly in her direction, and Jane understood the signal, heading straight for the counter. Terui looked up, his expression shifting as he whispered, “Please follow me.” He led her to Lin Zhao’s private quarters.

It wasn’t long before a rhythmic knock sounded—the agreed-upon signal. Jane opened the door, and Lin Zhao slipped inside, bolting it behind her. Both wore gravity on their faces.

“You first,” they said in unison.

With a light cough, Lin Zhao spoke first, relaying the news from the tavern. “Julian Harrison has leaked your identity. Everyone knows you are ‘Miss Eyre.’ As expected, the rumors surrounding Vine Manor have turned nasty. I suspect he’s trying to wage a war of public opinion—either to move his own name forward on the contract or simply to pressure you into not signing yours at all.”

Jane sneered, unsurprised. “How ridiculous. It seems even he knows how effectively society oppresses women. Men are all the same: they take every advantage, and when there are none, they manufacture them without shame.”

“Quite right,” Lin Zhao agreed with equal disdain. “That’s why I think we should use the name of the Anit Trading Company…” She detailed her plan to use the momentum she had built with the local merchants.

Her plan aligned perfectly with Jane’s own thoughts. Jane continued, “Father told me just now that Mr. Phillips prefers the contract to bear Father’s signature—unless I can provide proof that my own name carries enough weight. Father is in his prime, and I do not officially head Vine Manor. Under the pressure of public opinion, we have to make a move or give in.”

Lin Zhao nodded. “Anit was founded by you. Even if the capital came from Vine Manor, if we can make the company’s name prestigious enough, Phillips will yield. Besides, he still owes us a favor for that initial ‘anonymous tip.'”

The solution was aggressive and direct. Lin Zhao’s years of studying Madeira’s information network were about to pay off.

Jane sat on the edge of the bed, fuming. “I knew Julian was stiff and arrogant, but to use my gender as a weapon? It’s pathetic, yet society swallows it whole.”

Lin Zhao sat beside her. “A sore loser, isn’t he?”

“Poor Lena, having a brother like him and a father like Mr. Harrison,” Jane sighed, her anger fading into a low melancholy as she thought of Eleanor. “She understands respect better than both of them combined, yet they live with so much more freedom.”

Wealth, status, power, freedom… the things society encouraged people to pursue were the very things women were denied the chance to compete for. In this game, women were often reduced to mere resources or prizes. Why must women sacrifice themselves to make room for men’s ambitions?

“Is it only here that women face such difficulties, Lin?” Jane recalled the world Lin had described back at Wheelwood. “You said that where you come from, women can study, work, and travel on their own…”

Lin Zhao felt a pang of sympathy looking at Jane’s downcast eyes. But for someone capable of moving forward, reality was more useful than fantasy.

“Regrettably, Jane, even in my world, women still face countless obstacles. The right to work or travel is but a drop in the ocean compared to what has been taken. We cannot stop walking.” She paused, ruffling Jane’s hair. “The more they push, the more you must rise. It is good to be dissatisfied, Jane. Living in numbness won’t make life better.”

Jane felt a coolness on her hand. Lin Zhao had removed her glove and was gently poking her. Lin extended her pinky finger.

“I will be with you. Do whatever you wish to do, until you find that happiness you seek.”

Jane’s eyes stung. She blinked rapidly and hooked her pinky with Lin’s. A pinky swear—informal, yet profound enough to hold a soul-deep promise. Jane realized once again that Lin Zhao always captured her deepest hidden longings.

Jane looked up, her ambition burning bright. “Let’s proceed with the plan. We’ll show them that when given equal opportunity, only skill decides the winner. Excuses are useless.”

Madeira soon had two major pieces of news.

First, the EIC order was officially signed with Vine Manor. Reliable sources claimed the lead negotiator wasn’t John Eyre, but his young ward, Jane Eyre—a girl of only fifteen or sixteen.

This alone would have fueled tavern talk for months. But the second piece of news was even more dramatic. The Anit Trading Company, which had vanished after competing with Julian Harrison, suddenly posted a blunt announcement at the Mason Trading Company.

The notice admitted that Anit was founded by Miss Jane Eyre, was “inexperienced,” and had “accidentally” over-purchased wine, leading to a massive surplus. To show “responsibility toward the market,” they offered three things:

1. High-priced wine could be exchanged for Anit’s stock at a 1 to 1.5 ratio.

2. Any merchant who exchanged became a “Level 1 Partner” with fixed fair prices for a year.

3. Partner taverns would receive free table wine, provided they sold it to citizens for the ultra-low price of one shilling a mug.

The merchant circles erupted. Most veterans suspected a trap. However, a small group of “lucky” merchants—those who had heard from Mr. Lintner the day before—rushed to participate.

“Is she mad? One to 1.5? She’s throwing money into the sea!”

“It’s a trap! She’s squandering the Eyre fortune!”

“Mr. Lintner, you’re not in on a scam with her, are you?”

From beneath the hood, “Mr. Lintner” calmly wrote a note: “It is merely the strategy of a new player. They chase reputation, not profit. It is bold, but not a long-term threat.”

Then, a second note: “Her ambition is our opportunity. Why question a gift?”

The merchants exchanged looks. Lintner’s subtle “disdain” for the girl’s “short-sighted quest for fame” confirmed their own biases. They felt superior, convinced they understood the “emotional, fame-seeking nature” of a young woman’s business decisions.

They flocked to Mason’s. When they actually walked away with a barrel and a half of wine for every one they brought in, Funchal went into a frenzy. In their greed, few noticed the fine print: Anit Trading Company retains “priority supply rights” for one tap or shelf space in the tavern until the agreement ends.

“Jane, when profit is involved, people ignore small costs,” Lin Zhao had remarked a day earlier. “Anit must grow beyond its own business. When we occupy all these ‘advertising spots,’ we won’t lack for partners.”

Jane felt her heart racing. She didn’t just want to be “John Eyre’s daughter.” She wanted to build a gold mine that bore her own name.

Days later, Jane met Mr. Phillips with a thick ledger of partners. Phillips, initially polite, was soon visibly stunned.

“Mr. Phillips,” Jane said calmly, “this is Anit’s current partnership list. It should answer your concerns regarding the stability of the Madeira market.”

“…An impressive list, Miss Eyre,” Phillips replied, regaining his composure. “But vision determines the course. The winds of the sea cannot be read by passion alone.” He tried to dismiss her achievements as “youthful energy.”

“You are right. Vision is precious,” Jane smiled. She leaned in. “But for a ship to sail safely, it needs more than a captain’s vision. It needs a reliable lighthouse, does it not? One that can warn of storms… or even illuminate letters sent from London that the recipient himself hasn’t anticipated.”

Phillips froze. The sweat beaded on his forehead. He realized she didn’t just have business acumen; she had an information network that could strike his jugular. She wasn’t asking for his approval; she was demonstrating power.

“I see,” he exhaled. “Miss Eyre, you are deep indeed. Entrusting the contract to your signature is the safest choice for the East India Company.”

At the signing ceremony the next day, Julian Harrison refused to look at the Vine Manor party. The moment it ended, he left in his carriage, skipping the victory banquet.

As the music began, a hand in a white glove was elegantly extended toward Jane.

“Beautiful Miss Eyre, may I have the honor of a dance with the brightest star of the evening?”

The voice was low, distorted by the mask and hood. Jane looked at the top of the hood—almost level with her own eyes—and giggled. “Of course, mysterious sir. I shall give you this chance.”

They glided into the dance floor, drawing every eye in the room.

In a quiet corner, John Eyre watched with a proud smile. But gradually, the smile stiffened. He had never seen his daughter look like that. It wasn’t the polite smile of a partner or the modest look of a ward. She was radiant with a raw, almost boastful happiness. Every spin, every turn, was filled with total trust.

And Mr. Lintner…

John Eyre narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t see the man’s expression, but he could feel the absolute focus directed entirely at Jane. They seemed to exist in a private, impenetrable orbit.

He remembered joking in London about Lintner and the Harrison girl. But now…

A sharp, fatherly anxiety rose in his chest. This information broker of mysterious background and lethal methods—was his devotion to Jane truly just “business”?

He watched the hand resting steadily at Jane’s waist and his daughter’s dazzling, unprecedented smile. A thought bubbled up uncontrollably:

This Mr. Lintner… he couldn’t possibly be… after my daughter, could he?