Chapter 11 Family Disgrace Will Be Handled By Me

Even when you strike a dog, you must consider its owner?

Eleanor's heart clenched painfully, and she shivered, stepping back unsteadily.

The family patriarch glanced at Aaron, "That's true enough. The Quinn family has never been embroiled in such scandal before; it's very troubling to hear."

"It's the chatterboxes among the lower ranks, spreading everything to Grandfather," Aaron chuckled softly. "Don't fret over this trifle, Bennett. I'll handle our family's dirty laundry."

As Eleanor stepped back, she failed to notice a flower pot behind her; her heel struck it, and it shattered with a crash, spilling soil and shards across the ground.

Her heartbeat spiked, and the butler was fast approaching. She quickly lowered her head and hurried away.

"Who's there skulking around?" Bennett asked with annoyance, glancing up at the shadows.

The butler paused, craned his neck to look, and replied, "I believe it was Miss Patterson."

Aaron twirled the green diamond ring on his left thumb absently.
The butler placed the tea before him and noted a hint of coldness in his gaze. He looked up instinctively but was met by nothing but clarity in his eyes, devoid of any emotion.

Hearing the name Eleanor, Bennett frowned slightly but soon redirected his attention, giving the impression it was of no particular concern to him.

"To Aaron, he said, "In a month, you'll be engaged, so let Eleanor's matter rest. Don’t stir up trouble at this critical moment—it won't look good."

Aaron grunted, set down his teacup, and stood up. His eyes briefly swept over the shattered flowerpot before he strode away.

"Second Young Master is decent; rest assured, Patriarch," someone reassured Bennett.

Picking up his teacup, Bennett mused, "Of all my children, he's the most enigmatic."

The butler seemed on the verge of speaking but held back, "...If only the eldest hadn’t..."

"Let it be, no more talk of this," Bennett gestured, unwilling to delve deeper into the matter.

After a pause, he added gravely, "We must settle this Eleanor situation or it will bring shame upon the entire Quinn family."

...

Victoria was lounging at home, reclining in a chaise and enjoying the music, when she heard Eleanor call out to her. She squinted through half-closed eyes, paused, then sat up and pointed at Eleanor's heel, "What happened there?"

Following Victoria's gaze, Eleanor looked down.

Her sheer stockings were torn, the lattice-like tears snaking all the way down to her heel, where a fresh cut was bleeding, mingling with dirt—a sorry sight.

It must've been the broken shards from the flowerpot.

She had only felt cold before, not noticing the pain.

"Just a scratch," Eleanor said casually, kicking off her high heels and settling on the couch to clean the wound with some tissues.

Victoria frowned uncontrollably, stood up, and swatted her hands away, "That’s so dirty. What if it gets infected and leaves a scar?"

With that, she called for Sister Liu, the servant from the other house, to bring iodine and cotton swabs.

Eleanor pulled off her stockings in resignation. "The cut isn't deep."

"It doesn't matter; you can't be careless with it. Scars are ugly, and I didn't raise you with such care just to have you ruining your skin."

Victoria complained while she took the iodine and swabs to clean the wound carefully.

Eleanor sharply inhaled from the sting. Victoria was unaccustomed to such delicate tasks, her touches neither gentle nor precise.

"Why notice the pain now? You bled so much without realizing. What were you even thinking about?" asked Victoria, clearly irritated.

Eleanor suppressed her emotions and silently shook her head.

"What brought you back today? Did you need something from me?" Victoria asked, softening her touch as she cleaned the wound.

"Did you receive something from Peter a few days ago?"
Victoria froze, her gaze darting away as she mumbled evasively, "What thing? Nothing."

Eleanor didn't call her out; she just watched her in silence, making Victoria squirm inwardly.

Though Eleanor was her daughter, she had a way of putting Victoria in her place when it came to matters of right and wrong.

Victoria wasn't afraid of Eleanor's temper—it was her silent, psychological tactics that truly unnerved her.

Soon enough, she caved, abandoning her pretense and admitting, "It's a handbag."

Eleanor recalled the new handbag Victoria had been sporting the other night—a luxury item worth over two hundred grand. Victoria had just splurged on a bag recently; it was unlikely she'd buy another one so soon, but Eleanor hadn't given it much thought at the time.

Seeing her daughter's silence, Victoria asked, her voice tinged with guilt, "What about the bag?"

"You need to return it," Eleanor sighed with resignation.

Victoria adored that bag; she'd never have gotten her hands on it through a regular order, and she wasn't keen on giving it up so quickly, but she was well aware of Eleanor's stubbornness.

All she could do was agree, albeit reluctantly: "I'll return it in a few days..."

"Tomorrow," Eleanor asserted, knowing her mother too well to leave any room for delay.

Victoria pouted, clearly unwilling, and a wave of frustration surged through Eleanor, her eyes welling up with tears.

She uttered through clenched teeth, "Peter had the audacity to blame me today, claiming I'm nothing but a prostitute, that I took his things—that it was his way of paying me!"

Victoria's face flushed from red to white, her body trembling as she opened her mouth to speak, only to find no words would come.

"Had it not been for Grayson's tip-off, I'd still be in the dark. Why didn't you tell me something this big?" Eleanor demanded.

Victoria, utterly panicked, stammered, "Eleanor, I had no idea... How could I have suspected that Peter would turn against you now?"

Eleanor shook her head bitterly, "Desperate dogs will leap over walls, dragging others down with them in their last moments."

"What do we do now? If I've taken something from him, the police won't just take his word for it, will they?" Victoria's distress deepened.

If this scandal got out, their reputations would be ruined, especially Eleanor's. With her good name tarnished, how could she ever marry into the Wealthy Clan? No family would accept a bride with such a stain on her character.

But Eleanor just shook her head once more, "I don't know. Just return the bag for now."

In fact, the issue had already been settled—Aaron had taken care of it confidentially, as Grayson had informed her. How humiliated she felt at that moment, no one knew.

Eleanor didn't reveal this to Victoria immediately, hoping to teach her a lesson—to think twice before accepting just anything.
Victoria's face blanched with shock. She quickly instructed Sister Liu to fetch her bag from the cloakroom and had it sent back to the Vaughn family overnight.

Collapsing onto the couch, she couldn't bring herself to meet Eleanor's eyes. It was her fault, after all. She had hoped to find a suitable match for her daughter, but in the end, she had been played for a fool.

"Let's put an end to these matchmaking charades," Eleanor said, dabbing at a small wound with a cotton swab, skillfully exploiting her mother's weaknesses.

Sitting idly by, Victoria nodded in agreement, again and again.

After such an incident, it was Eleanor who called the shots.

Leaving the guest house, it was nearly nine o'clock. Eleanor retraced her steps but was stopped at the Weeping Flower Gate by the butler.

"Miss Patterson," he called out to her.

She paused and nodded, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

The butler, both respectful and somewhat distant, conveyed the message, "The family patriarch requests your presence."

Eleanor's brow furrowed.