Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 5
“R, Richelle?”
“Oh, Miss Richelle!”
The sudden appearance of Richelle in the living room startled both Mrs. Howard and Joan.
Chilled like the winter sky, Richelle struggled to grasp the situation, blinking her large eyes rapidly.
“Mother’s trust fund? But you said… you said Father invested everything in the merchant ships. That there wasn’t a penny left, that’s what you told me.”
“Hm, ahemm.”
“And you said Viscount Oliphant regularly sent us money? But you told me he turned us away coldly, adding insult to injury, without offering any help. Was that all… a lie?”
“……”
Mrs. Howard’s immaculately smooth face was tinged with discomfort. Avoiding Richelle’s gaze, she inadvertently surveyed the living room.
Antique cabinets forcibly taken from the Howard mansion, a luxury rosewood table bought at an auction for a high price, a glossy dresser with gilded decorations, vases imported from the East, and sofas covered in fine silk.
The opulence of the space, ill-fitting their circumstances, stabbed relentlessly at Richelle’s eyes and heart.
“So it was.”
Richelle let out a hollow laugh. The joy she felt moments ago, hoping her mother had heeded her words, now seemed foolish.
Indeed, upon reflection, there were weeks when the bills seemed unusually sparse. Those were likely the times when money from Mrs. Howard’s family, the Oliphants, had come.
Strength drained from her hands. Glancing down at the sound of something falling, she saw the paper bag containing beef had slipped from her grasp. The small happiness, wrapped in the plush carpet, looked pitifully meager.
With calloused fingertips, Richelle clutched at the coarse fabric of her coat.
“Mother… Have you ever felt even a shred of pity for me?”
“What?”
“I’ve tried to understand you, Mother. You grew up as the niece of Viscount Oliphant, living as a lady of a wealthy family. Even when Father passed away and you cried every day, still always seeking expensive and new things, I tried to understand.”
“Are you calling me a selfish and extravagant woman now?”
“Why did you do it, Mother? If you had contributed the trust fund, we could have moved to a brighter and safer house. We could have reduced the burden on Anna and Joan by hiring more help. But why…”
Her voice, steady until now, began to tremble. Mrs. Howard’s eyes darted around before her lips puckered.
“I’m sorry for hiding it. But it wasn’t just for me. It was meant as… emergency funds.”
“We’re not in a position to hold onto emergency funds. Not then, not now. We’re uncertain about even tomorrow.”
“Where did you learn to rudely interrupt your mother like that!”
With no rebuttal left, Mrs. Howard angrily got up, her shoulders heaving.
“Are you throwing a tantrum, asking your distressed mother to understand your hardship?”
“That’s not it. I…”
“Is it my fault that you go out to work and roam around? Huh? Is it my fault? You always think you’re the only one struggling. I’m struggling too! I’m sick of living miserably in this dreadful house! And this is my personal property, money sent by my family. How dare you covet it!”
“……”
“Should have just married Mr. Trollope, shouldn’t you? Then you wouldn’t have needed to leave the Howard mansion! Because of your pride, we lost the allowance Mr. Trollope provided, and now we’re in debt. Ugh.”
What exactly crumbled inside her at that moment?
“Mother, are you… are you really suggesting I be sold to a man older than you right now?”
Richelle’s voice trembled as she forced out the words. Mrs. Howard stiffened her shoulders momentarily before lowering her gaze to her neatly manicured nails.
“…That’s not what I meant. Why would you interpret my words that way?”
Her tone changed instantly, smooth and soothing as silk.
“All I’m saying is out of concern for you. Richelle, that’s just how life is for a woman. To grow up obedient to her parents, to marry a wealthy man before her youth fades. You seem not to understand how the world works—it’s not youth that a man needs but money and power.”
“Mother…”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
In truth, there was much she wanted to express. Resentment, sorrow, and all the emotions she had piled up and buried under resignation.
But what good would it do to say anything?
The same scenario would just repeat. Her mother would get angry, criticize her, and ultimately lament how hard life was.
Feeling as if her throat was constricted, Richelle gasped for air as she grasped the back of the sofa to keep herself stable.
