Classic Novel
Chapter 35
Chapter 35
The auction house was a hive of activity, buzzing with the kind of energy that could only be found where fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye,
The air was perfumed with the calming scent of sandalwood incense, while the walls were adorned with openwork bookshelves that showcased an eclectic mix of ceramics, paintings, and other vintage treasures, nestled among pots of lush greenery.
The babble of the crowd hushed for a brief moment as Howard and Gwendolyn made their entrance. It was Howard’s first public appearance since the accident that had changed his life. The looks that fell upon Howard’s legs were a mix of derision, disdain, pity, and malice,
Word had spread that Howard, the golden boy, had fallen from grace, crippled and barren. The inheritance of the Chadwick family was all but secured by Bainbridge.
Howard was now the discarded pawn.
“He’s impotent. What good does it do? Just leaves her a widow in the prime of her life.”
“Just a pretty–faced country girl, what a shame! Or are you fancying yourself as her new groom?”
“Ha! The Chadwick family will still need Bainbridge!”
Those harsh whispers turned Jeannie’s face beet red, her fists clenched as if she were ready to throw down. Gwendolyn’s lips were pressed into a tight line.
Gwendolyn reached out her fair hands to cover Howard’s ears.
“There’s no need.” Howard brushed her hands aside, his voice low, “I’m not that fragile.”
Instead, he should remember these faces well. When Gwendolyn gave him the chance to soar again, he would see how their tune would change, crawling back with sycophantic flattery.
“But I care.” Gwendolyn furrowed her brows, “I don’t like them speaking about you that way. You’re an incredible man.”
Howard looked deep into her eyes, which sparkled with indignant fire. The quarrel of the past days seemed to dissolve in the air.
He thought to himself that he indeed wanted to give Gwendolyn the clinic she dreamed of.
“Mr. Chadwick, this way, please.” An auction house employee guided him to a seat in the corner of the first row. A small square table was set with pastries and coffee, beside which was a comfortable armchair.
To his right sat the triumphant Bainbridge with Vivien, while Gemma and Herman were relegated to seats much further back.
“Howard, you owe me one,” Bain.idge said with a cold smile. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t
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be sitting in the front row.”
The auction house was a place where power and status reigned supreme.
“Thank you then, Bainbridge,” Howard replied, his voice cool and steady.
Bainbridge loathed his composure, “You’re welcome. After all, I should look out for the weak.”
As the clock struck two, the lights dimmed.
The monthly auction at Grand Gavel Auction House commenced, and the room fell silent. Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.
The auctioneer, with microphone and gavel in hand, projected his voice across the room, “Welcome to Grand Gavel’s monthly auction. All items today are up for public bidding. The sellers have declared a ‘non–fidelity‘ policy, meaning items are sold without a guarantee of authenticity, with all transactions being final. Now, let’s begin the bidding process.”
According to the ‘non–fidelity‘ policy, any subsequent issues were the buyer’s responsibility. But those who were interested usually did their due diligence, so problems rarely arose.
Grand Gavel had never been known to auction a fake, so no one paid much mind to the “non–fidelity‘ disclaimer, a formality read at every auction. Only Howard, sitting in the corner with his hands clasped, allowed a shadow of thought to cross his expression.
Gwendolyn sat up straight, listening intently. She had never been to an auction before and found it all very exciting. Suddenly, her shoulder was tapped, and a fuzzy head leaned in close, “Fairy Gwen. It’s me, yeah.”
She turned to see grinning Valor, sitting right behind her.
“Hey, what a coincidence.” replied Gwendolyn.
Valor spoke in a hushed tone, “You know, I’ve been sticking to that remedy you gave me. Not sure it’s doing much, but it’s comforting, I guess.”
“Keep at it for three months,” Gwendolyn whispered back, mimicking his conspiratorial tone.
“Okay, but honestly, I’ve given up on treatments. My mom is set on trying for a second child at her age.” After years of struggle, he too was weary.