The carriage glided smoothly along Kensington's streets. Mary leaned against the soft cushion, repeatedly turning the day's events over in her mind. The smile on her lips never faded.
Only when the familiar door came into view did she slowly regain her composure and put on the mask of Mary Morstan once more.
Mary pushed open the carriage door and stepped out. The familiar butler was already waiting at the entrance.
"Welcome home, Miss." The butler bowed slightly, showing respect.
"Mm." Mary nodded lightly, sat down still wearing her coat, and handed it to the maid seated beside her.
"Has Father returned?" Her casual question sounded like a daughter concerned for her father.
"The master is currently receiving a guest in the study, young lady." The butler answered honestly.
"A guest?" Mary paused. "With whom?"
"Mr. Edgar, editor-in-chief of The Guardian."
Hearing this, the girl's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. "I see." She nodded, her expression returning to normal, and asked nothing further. She walked straight upstairs to her own room.
Mary pushed open the bedroom door, casually tossed her school bag onto the sofa, and sank into it. She closed her eyes, enjoying a moment of silence, yet her heart refused to relax completely.
"Doing all sorts of unnecessary things…" She muttered in dissatisfaction.
She wasn't surprised by Edgar's visit. After all, she had given him such a generous gift—it was only natural he would come in person to express his gratitude. She hadn't wanted him to appear, but she had wanted to keep the matter to herself. Still, she suspected Edgar was probably acting on her father's orders.
Mary furrowed her brows and sighed softly when she considered what might happen next.
This was truly troublesome.
Now that things had escalated this far, it was better to focus on more important matters first.
She stood, walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and took out a locked wooden box. Turning the key, she lifted the lid. Inside lay several unmailed letters. She picked up a pen and, on a blank sheet, wrote instructions in handwriting completely different from her usual delicate script.
When she finished, she folded the letters, placed them in ordinary envelopes, and sealed them. Then she walked to the door and knocked lightly.
"Miss." From the entrance came her personal maid's voice.
"Mel, could you mail this letter for me?" Mary handed the envelope over. "Same place as before."
"Understood." The maid nodded lightly, accepted the envelope, and hid it close to her body. But she didn't leave immediately.
"Ah, yes, young lady—one more thing."
"What is it?"
"The master asked you to come to the study."
Hearing this, Mary fell silent for a moment. "I see." She closed the door and walked toward her father's study.
"Father." Mary pushed open the study door.
Inside, Arthur Morstan and editor-in-chief Edgar were seated on the sofa, chatting pleasantly. When Mary entered, both stopped talking at once and smiled.
"Ah, our hero has returned." Edgar stood and extended his hand to Mary. "Hello, Miss Morstan. I was just speaking with your father about you."
"Hello, Mr. Edgar." Mary smiled and shook his hand lightly before letting go.
"Sit down, Mary." Arthur pointed to the empty seat beside him.
Mary sat down next to him, her posture elegant and calm.
"Mr. Edgar was just praising you," Arthur said, unable to hide his pride. "He said you're young, decisive, and incredibly brave…"
Yet Mary understood the deeper meaning behind those words.
"Father, I'm flattered," Mary replied with a faint smile. "I've only done a little."
"Miss Morstan, you're far too modest," Edgar interjected. "Without your intelligence, The Guardian could never have gained the upper hand in this information war."
"But I remember both The Times and The Guardian received the news, didn't they?" Mary pretended not to know and asked. "So where exactly is the advantage?"
"That's one point," Edgar said ambiguously. "However, because we learned of it before The Times, we were better prepared for distribution. We also had more time to refine layout and wording. Better preparation allowed us to cover a wider market and capture readers' attention from the very start. Although The Times also received the news, their response was ultimately one step too late. In news timeliness, even a single minute can decide everything."
"I see." Mary nodded and said nothing more.
For the rest of the conversation she played a supporting role, occasionally offering short remarks. The main focus remained on Arthur Morstan and Edgar.
Mary's message had brought The Guardian enormous profits, and the paper was naturally delighted to use the opportunity to promote a favorable image of Morstan Enterprises to the public.
Mutual benefit. Business was business—nothing wrong with that.
Twelve minutes later, Edgar stood up with satisfaction and took his leave. Arthur personally escorted him to the entrance, waited until the carriage had departed the estate, then returned to the study. After closing the door he turned around.
Only father and daughter remained.
Mary sat quietly on the sofa, holding a slightly cooled cup of tea, maintaining the elegant posture of a perfect porcelain doll.
Arthur approached and looked down at her. "Speak," he said slowly. "Why did you do this?"
Arthur Morstan sat opposite his daughter. "Mary, I didn't intend to blame you. You did very well this time. Not only did we gain further support from The Guardian, we were also able to repay the favor to the thief. In terms of results, you did nothing wrong. But shouldn't you have informed me beforehand? Lately you've been a bit… too free-spirited. Or is that just my imagination?"
Hearing this, Mary took a deep breath, raised her face, and met Arthur Morstan's eyes. "I'm sorry, Father." The girl spoke quietly. No sophistry, no rebuttal.
"No, there's no need to apologize, Mary, my daughter. You did nothing wrong." Arthur Morstan shook his head. "I'm very glad you take the initiative to think of the family and approach matters from the family's perspective. However, you are still young. London is a complex city, and there are many things you have yet to experience. Sometimes choices you believe are correct may hide unexpected intentions. I don't want you to encounter danger through impulsive actions."
He gently patted his daughter's slightly stiff shoulders like a loving father. "I'm glad you have your own ideas. But in many cases your own strength alone has limits. You need to learn to rely on others—especially your father. I will always be your most reliable, most powerful support."
"I know."
"Excellent." Arthur smiled with satisfaction and slightly loosened his grip. "Let's set the Moriarty matter aside for now. Since the favor has been returned, there's no need to contact him further. That man is a madman—someone who could lose his sanity at any moment. Keeping your distance from him will do you no harm."
"Yes, Father."
Throughout, Mary maintained a humble and obedient attitude.
"And one more thing," he paused, casually changing the subject. "Your school grades seem quite good recently?"
The moment Mary heard those words, her body twitched almost imperceptibly. But she quickly adjusted her thinking. "Yes, Father," she answered. "The classes weren't difficult."
"I wasn't referring to the coursework." Arthur Morstan looked at her. "What I wanted to discuss was interpersonal relationships."
…