Certainly, what must be refused · 09. January 2026

CWMBR 128

Chapter 128

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Mrs. Callaway did not respond to Bridget's greeting, standing before the open front door and glancing inside. The tightly closed lips visible beneath her veil shifted slightly.

"The hostess is not at all prepared."

She muttered cynically, clicking her tongue sharply.

"Nothing is prepared at all."

Mrs. Callaway's gaze, fixed on the old doorframe, was thick with contempt.

"I'd heard the discord with Lord Wise had worsened since the royal announcement, but I hadn't expected you'd fail to maintain even the slightest semblance of decorum."

Jane, who had been busier than anyone scrubbing and polishing this mansion, glanced at Bridget with an embarrassed look. Wayna, too, couldn't bring herself to say anything due to the other's status, but her face clearly showed her displeasure.

Yet Bridget, insulted to her face, remained impassive, her expression unchanged as she spoke calmly.

"Since this isn't an invitation for a happy occasion, there was no need to prepare so lavishly."

Bridget looked at Mrs. Callaway and her attendant. Mrs. Callaway herself had come with only the bare minimum of attendants, as if wanting to avoid causing a scene. It was clear she didn't want to draw attention to herself.

Then again, it was only natural. The very reason Mrs. Callaway stood here wasn't for any respectable purpose.

"If only for the sake of your dignity."

"My dignity?"

Mrs. Callaway chewed on Bridget's words, clearly annoyed.

"It's rather peculiar to have Madame Wise point out my dignity."

It was also a jab at Bridget's public reputation, which had been swept up in all manner of scandal. Having heard every possible rumor, Bridget found the remark hardly damaging, and dismissed it without much thought.

"Is there anyone among artists who doesn't know the Callaway family? If such a distinguished family, respected by all, were openly supporting a criminal, everyone would be greatly shocked."

"A criminal?"

"Stealing someone else's writing and presenting it as their own is theft. Theft is a crime."

Bridget's blunt words made Mrs. Callaway's maid snort indignantly, her face flushing. She looked stiff and tense, as if she herself had been insulted.

In contrast, Mrs. Callaway showed little disturbance. Calmly gazing at Bridget, she lifted her chin and said in a mocking tone.

"Wouldn't it be more reasonable to assume someone jealous of his reputation rushed to pin a ridiculous false accusation on him?"

"That argument might have held some weight if the victim of the theft had been a poor artist."

Bridget shrugged. It was an indirect way of saying she had no reason to envy Finn Emerson.

Mrs. Callaway narrowed her eyes. Bridget asked in an unemotional voice.

"This seems like it will be a long conversation. Do you intend to stand the whole time?"

"Do you think I would sit down with you? How utterly presumptuous."

"I doubt you came all the way to distant Glynford just to exchange a few words. But if you insist on leaving nonetheless, then farewell."

Jane, who had been listening to their exchange with nervous eyes, stared wide-eyed at Bridget. Mrs. Callaway's maid looked at Bridget with a surprised expression before turning back to her mistress. Mrs. Callaway continued to stare at Bridget, her expression unflinching. Bridget met Mrs. Callaway's gaze directly and continued.

"I shall have no choice but to seek other means to clear my name."

Mrs. Callaway's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Given that I'm somewhat well-known, albeit for unfortunate reasons, I imagine there might be a few media outlets willing to lend an ear to my plea."

A fierce expression finally settled on Mrs. Callaway's face, which had remained composed throughout.

"A mere threat like that."

"Mrs. Callaway, you have long been a lifeline for artists. I believe you cherish them more than anyone."

Bridget held her hands together neatly and lifted her head straight.

"I did not request this meeting to threaten you. I sought your help, trusting in the Callaway family's pride and conviction in loving art."

Mrs. Callaway, who had been staring at Bridget with a cold, settled gaze, twisted her lips into a smile. She smirked.

"I don't put unverified things from outside into my mouth. Etrin, give the maid of this house some tea leaves."

The maid called Etrin looked at Mrs. Callaway with wide eyes. Mrs. Callaway stepped into the mansion and muttered coldly.

"Even a crumbling mansion should have boiled water."

***

The conversation took place in Bridget's room on the second floor. Mrs. Callaway scanned Bridget's room with a wary eye but entered without hesitation. She had accepted Bridget's suggestion that a private room upstairs was better for a relaxed conversation than the ground-floor drawing room.

Wayna and Jane waited downstairs with Etrin. Unlike the two women, who had already experienced this kind of wait when Mrs. Hera visited, Etrin seemed deeply uneasy about sending Mrs. Callaway upstairs alone. She couldn't sit still. Pacing near the stairs, Etrin muttered almost to herself.

"It won't collapse, will it?"

"………………If you have eyes, look. Does this look like a mansion that's going to collapse?"

"Having eyes is precisely why I'm worried."

Wayna fell silent at Etrin's sharp retort.

As a noble, Wayna knew how extravagant aristocratic mansions could be. Especially the Callaway family—a lineage that had passed down, generation after generation, a tradition of nitpicking the artistic merit of every architectural detail. If the master's standards were sky-high, how much more so for the servants who attended them?

But treating this mansion like a crumbling ruin was going too far, wasn't it? While it bore the marks of time, it wasn't quite that repulsive.

Wayna, who had been about to argue back, saw Etrin's face harden completely and instinctively realized she wasn't someone she could reason with. She quietly shut her mouth. In fact, Jane had already fled to the kitchen long ago, seemingly finding it difficult to even share the same space with Etrin.

Wayna and Etrin shared the awkward silence as they waited for their mistress. Then, several hours later, Wayna unconsciously perked up and looked up at the sound of movement from upstairs.

Mrs. Callaway and Bridget were descending the stairs, wearing expressions similar to when they had first come up. Just by looking at their faces, it was hard to guess how their conversation had ended.

As Wayna cautiously gauged the mood between them, Mrs. Callaway, walking ahead, suddenly spoke.

"I hear the Glynford Grand Theater has been offering its stage to artists who haven't secured patrons lately."

"Yes, my parents opened the theater with that very intention."

Bridget's cool reply was immediately countered by Mrs. Callaway.

"From what I've gathered, it seems the management direction changed after the owner switched."

"There was a brief misunderstanding, but we're correcting it. We're currently in a period of reorganization."

The topic Bridget had likely intended to bring up with Mrs. Callaway was probably about Finn Emerson. Yet, the conversation that flowed as they descended the stairs was about the Glynford Grand Theater. Judging by the casual exchange, as if exchanging pleasantries, it seemed the atmosphere in the room had ended on a positive note.

As Wayna breathed a sigh of relief, Mrs. Callaway, who had descended to the first floor, beckoned to Etrin. Etrin quickly approached her and draped the shawl she had been holding all along over her shoulders.

"After the reopening, I too intend to carry on my parents' wishes."

Meanwhile, Bridget's calm explanation continued. Listening quietly, Mrs. Callaway narrowed her eyes.

"So the discord with Lord Wise was just a ruse?"

"Pardon?"

"I wondered why someone so obsessed with money would suddenly antagonize people and cause a scene in the center... It seems he was paving the way for his wife."

Bridget didn't answer, staring intently at Mrs. Callaway. Mrs. Callaway, seemingly not waiting for Bridget's reply, nodded to herself and concluded.

"Well, buying a city would be an apology befitting the Wise family's stature."

Wayna wore a puzzled expression. Bridget subtly narrowed her brows too, clearly just as baffled by Mrs. Callaway's earlier remark.

Having plunged the two into confusion with her cryptic words, Mrs. Callaway offered no further explanation and stepped out onto the porch.

"I shall consider today's conversation carefully."

Mrs. Callaway said indifferently, nodding toward Etrin.

"Let's go back."

***

Once in the carriage, Etrin sat diagonally across from Mrs. Callaway and asked cautiously.

"Madam, do you intend to meet Mr. Fin Emerson in person today?"

"It's settled."

"……Shouldn't you hear his explanation?"

“There would only be excuses."

Mrs. Callaway murmured with a sigh, turning her gaze away with an expression of weariness. Staring at the slowly passing scenery outside the carriage, she spoke indifferently.