Chapter 49 Forcing Cressida to Walk the Mountain of Knives
Cressida poured a cup of Earl Grey tea from the silver tea set and handed it to Patrick with both hands.
Her tone was calm, with just the right amount of composure: "It's really not a big deal. Just the other day, I happened to overhear the servants whispering in a corner."
"They said that after Sable was punished, she was sent to the hunting estate in the suburbs. At least she kept her life. But her personal maid Haven was beaten to death on the spot, and her body was thrown into a mass grave in the outskirts. The servants all sighed privately that Mother handled it too ruthlessly, not even giving the maid a chance to explain herself."
Patrick's eyes flickered instantly, his thick eyebrows knitting together, doubt and contemplation churning in his gaze.
Cressida continued: "I've already punished those who were gossiping. From now on, they won't dare speak ill of Mother again."
"Haven was Sable's maid, yet she wasn't by Sable's side on duty the night of the fire. She was probably slacking off somewhere. But these servants made it sound like Mother was trying to cover up some secret and was in a hurry to silence her. They really deserved to be punished."
Patrick listened in silence, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing against the edge of the bed for a long while.
"You may go. Go find out what the sheriff has to say about this. Remember, don't let your mother know about this."
"Yes, Father." Cressida bowed slightly and took her leave.
When she reached the doorway, she deliberately slowed her steps and glanced back to see Patrick still sitting dazed by the bedpost, his expression grave. Today she had said just enough. How much of a stir her words would create in Patrick's mind would depend entirely on his own judgment.
As dusk fell, Michael went to the kitchen to fetch medicine. Before he even stepped through the door, he saw Emma fishing something out of a medicine pot and quickly tossing it into the burning stove.
"What are you doing!" Michael shouted harshly. The sudden voice startled Emma so badly she trembled all over and turned around in panic.
"Mr. Hamilton, I... I wasn't doing anything." Emma's voice carried obvious trembling.
Michael strode forward, swept his eyes over the medicine pot on the stove, and grabbed Emma's arm, gripping so hard it felt like he might crush her bones.
"I saw it clearly! Tell me, what did you put in Father's medicine?"
"I really didn't do anything, Mr. Michael Hamilton!" Emma shook her head desperately and struggled, pulling out a packet of leftover herbs from her chest. "This isn't even Mr. Patrick Hamilton's medicine pot, it's Ms. Cressida Hamilton's. A few days ago, Ms. Cressida Hamilton stayed up late copying scriptures and was feeling anxious, so I specially made her some calming herbal medicine."
Michael looked skeptically at the packet of herbs, then turned to look at the medicine pot on the stove—the style was indeed identical to the one Patrick usually used, but the smell of the herbs remaining in the pot was completely different.
He suppressed his anger and roughly shoved Emma away: "Get out! If I catch you sneaking around the kitchen again, watch your head!"
Emma, as if granted amnesty, stumbled out of the kitchen.
Michael's gaze at the medicine pot grew increasingly dark. This time he had happened to catch Emma's suspicious behavior, but how many times had Emma come to the kitchen when he didn't know? Patrick had been taking medicine for many days, yet his condition showed no improvement. Could it be that Cressida was secretly tampering with it, deliberately delaying Patrick's recovery?
Once this thought arose, it grew wildly like vines. The more Michael thought about it, the more certain he became that Cressida must have tampered with the medicine.
"She must be afraid that Rose will cure Father's leg with her medical skills, so she's deliberately interfering." Michael clenched his fists, his knuckles white, his tone full of resentment. He absolutely couldn't let Cressida's scheme succeed. It seemed he needed to have that fortune-telling monk come sooner.
The next morning, on a bright spring day, sunlight streamed through the carved window frames into the manor. Cressida carried a food box to visit Patrick in his bedroom.
As soon as she stepped through the door, Patrick asked urgently: "What news from the sheriff?"
Cressida set down the food box and shook her head: "The sheriff came by once, but didn't say anything specific. However, I heard them discussing privately that they seem quite dissatisfied with Mother's rush to deal with Sable's maid. They said that for this kind of accidental fire case, they should question all related persons one by one, but Mother directly killed the only key witness, leaving them with no way to investigate."
Patrick's brow furrowed even tighter, and beneath his thick eyebrows, the look of suspicion grew stronger.
He was silent for a long while, then suddenly spoke: "Cressida, do you think this fire could have been set by someone your mother bribed from Sable's household?"
Cressida covered her mouth in feigned surprise: "Father, why would you think that? If something happened to you, it wouldn't benefit Mother at all!"
"She originally wanted to teach Sable a lesson, but didn't expect the fire to get out of control and spread. It must be like that." The more Patrick thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. He had been married to Clio for over twenty years and knew her methods all too well. When they first married, Clio had encouraged Patrick to cause trouble outside using Donny's name. Later, Donny indeed had his leg broken by enemies, while Patrick, following Clio's advice to stay home, managed to escape unscathed.
"Your mother has always been dissatisfied with Sable being favored and has long wanted to drive her out of the manor. But she knew I've been quite fond of Sable lately and didn't dare act openly, so she came up with this vicious method."
Cressida said nothing more, just listened quietly. Once Patrick started to suspect, he would complete the logical chain himself. She only needed to add at the right moment: "But if Mother acted this way and it endangered your life, what then? Isn't that too risky?"
This statement hit like a heavy hammer, awakening Patrick. He suddenly remembered that Michael was already over twenty years old, fully qualified to inherit the title. If Patrick had died accidentally in this fire, not only would Clio have suffered no loss, but she could control the entire family's assets as a widow, and Michael could naturally inherit the title.
Thinking of this, Patrick felt a chill down his spine and his heart pounding.
"It must be like that! The only thing your mother didn't anticipate was how fast the fire would spread."
"Father, according to what you're saying, could Sable's maid Haven also have been an accomplice bribed by Mother? That's why Mother was in such a hurry to kill her afterward to silence her and prevent her from revealing the truth?" Cressida threw out this question at just the right time.
This thought shocked Patrick—he had never considered this connection. When Sable was first brought into The Hamilton Mansion, he had indeed been quite taken with this beautiful woman, staying at Sable's residence for a whole month, which had led to several arguments with Clio. But later, when the doctor diagnosed that Sable couldn't have children, his interest in her gradually faded.
Over these years, he wasn't unaware that Clio often gave Sable a hard time, but as long as no major trouble arose, he chose to turn a blind eye. But he never imagined that Clio's methods could be so ruthless.
"No wonder when the sheriff came to ask questions the other day, his expression was vague. Your mother must have been afraid the maid would be questioned and reveal something, so she struck first!" Patrick's tone was full of rage.
Cressida lowered her eyes and pressed her lips together, saying nothing, only softly advising: "Father, please calm down. Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding, and Mother didn't mean it."
"Stop defending her!" Patrick slammed his hand on the bed, burning with anger. "A woman's jealousy is common enough, but she dared to involve me too—this is crossing my line!" All these years he had already given Clio plenty of respect, yet he never expected that to deal with Sable, a fallen-from-favor mistress, she would stop at nothing.
Just then, the door was pushed open, and Clio walked in with Rose and Michael. Seeing their formation, Patrick's expression grew even darker: "It's not time for medicine. What are you doing here?"
Clio was secretly puzzled—why was Patrick's attitude so cold today? But she didn't think much of it and said directly: "Michael was anxious seeing your long illness, so he specially went to Saint Elias Monastery to invite a famous fortune-telling monk. After the monk's divination, he said there's a jinx in our manor, and it's this jinx causing trouble that's keeping you from getting better."
"A jinx?" Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Michael immediately pointed at Cressida, his tone certain: "It's her! Father, haven't you noticed? Ever since Cressida returned to the manor, disasters have been constant—first Mother's sudden heart palpitations, then you encountered the fire. All of this is the misfortune she brought!"
Patrick looked at Cressida in silence, not immediately taking a position.
Clio stepped forward, her tone carrying false helplessness: "The monk said there's only one way to break the curse—have Cressida carry a wooden plaque engraved with your birth date and walk across a mountain of knives, and only then can the disaster be dispelled and you recover."
As soon as Clio finished speaking, Tatum carried in a wooden board taller than a person. The board had dozens of sharp curved knives stuck in it at intervals, their blades gleaming coldly in the sunlight—a real "mountain of knives."
Cressida looked directly at Clio, her tone calm but carrying a hint of questioning: "Mother, if I walk across this mountain of knives, I'm afraid these legs will be completely ruined."
Clio's expression instantly hardened, her tone merciless yet pretending to be pained: "Cressida, for your father to recover, what does this small sacrifice matter? You're the eldest daughter of this family. This is your responsibility."