Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 110

110. The Future of Ingrint

Richard asked, “What’s the latest on Theresius Wilford?”

“He’s still in Dockland. He seems to think he’s hidden well. Should we just grab him?”

Sebastian received reports about Theresius morning and evening. Lately, since Theresius had been relatively quiet, Sebastian hadn’t reported it to the Young Earl.

The day after Theresius Wilford struck Richard Spencer with a liquor bottle, instead of heading to Cherry Hinton with a shovel, he hastily fled to Lydon. From there, he stayed at an expensive, upscale inn and sent a letter to Cornwall seeking help from Baron Wilford.

But the baron didn’t reply. The meaning of his silence was clear: he had chosen the family over his paternal affection.

For a noble without money or allies, the path was predictable. After moving between cheap inns, Theresius finally ended up in Dockland, a place overflowing with filth and stench.

After his visit to Dockland with Grace, Richard had thought he’d never have to step foot in such a disgusting and foul-smelling place again. But Theresius, hiding his identity, was now mingling with those he had once considered less than human—illiterate and impoverished—just to survive.

Theresius Wilford feared being caught by Richard Spencer more than he feared his miserable life in Dockland. And rightly so. Striking a great nobleman with a shattered liquor bottle was grounds for life imprisonment. But Richard Spencer wasn’t the type to settle for imprisonment; he’d deliver indefinite torment instead.

“Leave him be.”

Living covered in filth, reeking of stench, and constantly fearing the day Richard Spencer might drag him away—that reality was the worst punishment Theresius could endure. Richard intended to grant him the favor of experiencing it to the fullest.

“What about the Wilford family?”

“Well…”

Richard Spencer tapped his left temple thoughtfully. The scar was still hidden beneath his hair, but his demeanor had changed significantly.

For one, he no longer lowered his hand whenever it unconsciously touched the area near his left eye. He no longer used pomade to slick his hair down, allowing the scar to peek through whenever the wind blew or he brushed his hair back with his fingers.

Since the day he had wrapped his head with the fabric from Grace’s dress, it had seemed to matter little whether Grace Gurton—now Grace Montague—was aware of his smallpox scars. As they strolled along the lakeside in St. James’s Park, Sebastian noticed Grace tenderly caressing the scar on Richard’s face.

Sebastian let out a quiet, guttural groan.

“As planned,” Richard replied briefly after concluding his thoughts.

If it was “as planned,” Sebastian silently extended his condolences to Baron Wilford, who must have been fretting in faraway Cornwall. He also resolved to visit church that weekend for confession.

“Young Master, what on earth do you plan to do with the tin mines?”

The Spencer family was a preeminent political force in Ingrint. Unlike the nouveau riche Cavendish family of Devonshire, who had expanded their business and amassed wealth over generations, the Spencers prided themselves on their noble heritage and honor. At least, that’s how Sebastian saw it.

The Spencers also owned a number of businesses, but these had been established over time through their long history rather than aggressive profit-seeking ventures. However, Richard Spencer had shown great interest in business even during his time in Grentabridge.

Starting with managing the late Mary Montague’s businesses, he had actively invested in various industries, diligently predicting their fates. A notable example was the development of steam locomotives, slated to launch in a few years.

That was somewhat understandable. But tin? Tin was mainly used for making kitchenware or roofing the homes of the poor. It was an industry that seemed completely at odds with a family as venerable and intertwined with the monarchy as the Spencers.

“This is just between us,” Richard began.

Sebastian, feeling a surge of emotion, nodded eagerly. Just between us—what an honor!

“I have no intention of expanding the Spencer family’s political influence any further.”

“…Excuse me?”

For centuries, the Spencer family and politics had been inseparable. The Spencers wielded politics, and politics supported the Spencers.

There’s even a saying: When someone asks about the future of Ingrint, tell them to look at the Spencers.

So, why?

“The limitations of monarchies are clear. With steam locomotives and steamships enabling cross-border transportation, the authority of monarchs will continue to decline. Borders between countries will become ambiguous.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an overstatement?”

“Sebastian, then what do you think will happen?”

“……”

“War.”

“War?”

“When money takes precedence over power, wars will be fought not for patriotism but for the flow of capital. At that time, it won’t be politicians who gain power but those who hold the wealth. Wars are already being waged around the world, aren’t they? And each time, Parliament is forced to make decisions while eyeing those who control the purse strings. That’s why the Duke of Devonshire’s voice has grown louder lately.”

“So?”

“That’s why I’m preparing for war. I plan to fully dive into the munitions industry.”

“Are you saying you’re already preparing for a war that hasn’t even started?”

“The earlier the preparations, the better.”

Sebastian staggered as if dizzy from the bombshell announcement, stammering as he asked another question.

“Th-then, persuading the queen to designate the King of Prussen as the next monarch—wasn’t that meant to solidify your political standing?”

“Oh, that.”

Richard shook his head lightly as he answered.

“I said I wouldn’t expand my influence, not that I’d leave politics. The Spencer family will continue to rule Ingrint from exactly the same position we hold now.”

“……”

“What I mean is that I intend to allocate some of the time, money, and effort I’ve been pouring into politics into business.”

“The same position” implied being the foremost political family in Ingrint. Expanding beyond that would be treason, but the Young Earl spoke as if maintaining the status quo was a magnanimous gesture. Sebastian was dumbfounded.

He intends to dominate both the political arena he already controls and the business world where he plans to invest his time and resources. Such ambition!

Dreams are best when they’re big. Sebastian had grand dreams too. One day, he would become the butler of Spencer Mansion and oversee hundreds of servants.

“But, Young Master, what does that have to do with the tin mines?”

“You’ll find out in due time. Stop asking.”

Richard Spencer thought of his late grandfather, the former Earl Spencer, who had been relatively kind to him. The Earl had reconsidered the terms of the marriage contract with Eleanor d’Estrée purely because of Richard.

During Richard’s smallpox bout, Ingrint faced another crisis as devastating as the epidemic: the Aire potato famine.

Ingrintians relied on potatoes imported from Aire as a staple food. These imports were more like plunder, brought in at dirt-cheap prices. The problem was that the potato variety grown in Aire at the time was hit by a disease as severe as smallpox. Potato production fell to less than a quarter of its usual levels, and the Ingrint government confiscated what little was healthy, exacerbating the famine in Aire.

While Ingrint’s policies protected its citizens, for those living on the island across the sea, it was outright exploitation. More people died of starvation than from smallpox.

This event prompted Ingrint’s noble families to buy up land in the New World. The Spencer family acquired significant tracts, anticipating the need for food reserves.

At the time, Richard Spencer argued that, based on the distance and shipping times to the New World, they should secure lease rights to the fertile lands of the Charlotte estate. He persuaded his grandfather with support from Mary Montague, emphasizing the need for closer, more abundant lands.

Thus, Richard’s marriage was traded for the fertile territory of Gallia. Though Lancelot Spencer’s actions would later reduce its utility, for the Young Earl, reaching the end of the rainbow was a profitable deal.

The vast food supplies imported from Gallia would serve as a feast during the continent’s inevitable bloodshed. These provisions, preserved in tin-coated iron alloys, would be distributed to battlefields.

Ingrint’s red-coated soldiers would enjoy unspoiled meals even after long sea voyages to distant wars. Though it might also be their last supper, it wasn’t a blessing anyone asked for.

Should another famine or sudden population boom arise, the stored food’s value would skyrocket. Resources are finite, after all. Richard recalled a past conversation with the Montague couple about Malthusian theories and sighed wistfully.

Lancelot Spencer had better do his part properly. Smirking wryly, Richard asked Sebastian, “When is Lancelot expected to arrive?”