In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

"If only I hadn't protested so much when Lincoln died..." Grace, Frederick's mother and the matriarch of the Huntingtons, sighed deeply. Despite nearing seventy, her youthful beauty still hinted at the allure she once possessed.

Remembering her late nephew Lincoln, Grace's heart grew heavy. After her daughter's death, Frederick had taken Lincoln into their care, lavishing him with wealth and luxury in the capital. This upbringing refined Lincoln's noble sensibilities and appreciation for art, but it was not enough to save him from his downfall.

"We should have adopted Lincoln as our own. That way, we could have secured the Crassus succession and avoided all this tragedy," Frederick lamented.

Grace shook her head, her face clouded with regret. "What's done is done. The world has changed, and we must learn to live quietly in its shadow," she said, her tone resolute.

The Huntington family, while wealthy and well-connected, was not a dominant force among the capital's aristocracy. They owned a famous auction house, which provided them with riches and influence, but they lacked the power to compete with the likes of the Crassus family.

"Thankfully, the Crassus family isn't vindictive," Grace continued. "As long as we remain courteous, they won't seek retribution. And don't forget, we still have Elizabeth."

Frederick's eyes widened. Elizabeth—why hadn't he thought of her?

Noticing her son's scheming expression, Grace scolded him harshly. "Don't you dare let your greed get the better of you. Elizabeth is not like Lincoln—she's sharp and resolute."

Grace recalled her granddaughter from the ball during the recent festival. The girl's intelligence and unmatched beauty left an indelible impression.

"She reminds me of myself in my youth," Grace mused, smiling unconsciously. She was relieved that Elizabeth didn't resemble her vain and frivolous mother, Frederick's late sister.

"If you must reach out to Elizabeth, do so without imposing any conditions," Grace instructed. "Provide her with a generous dowry, but under no circumstances should you approach her directly or write to her."

Frederick looked puzzled, unsure of his mother's reasoning. Sighing again, Grace explained, "Elizabeth is clever, and those around her are equally formidable. Look at Dominic—he's no fool. And Michael? Have you not heard of his calculated nature?"

Frederick nodded silently, finally grasping his mother's advice. Grace, satisfied that her son was willing to listen, continued, "A substantial gift will ensure they acknowledge us. We don't need words—just respect as relatives."

Frederick's face lit up with understanding. He immediately called for the steward. "Send silks, lace, and jewels to the Crassus estate in the capital. Also, prepare a dowry for Elizabeth equivalent to what my sister took when she married—no, double that amount. Label it as a gift from the Huntington family to their granddaughter upon reaching adulthood."

Grace smiled approvingly. Maintaining a cordial yet distant relationship with the Crassus family was the best course of action. They needn't be overly involved but should remain on polite terms. After all, the Crassus family was destined to soar even higher.

Within the Crassus estate, Elizabeth sat in a finely decorated drawing room, examining the gifts and promissory notes sent by her maternal family. A faint smile graced her lips.

"Well, it seems my uncle knows how to conduct himself after all," she remarked, her tone tinged with amusement.

She instructed the steward to take the gifts and promissory notes to her room. Elizabeth, managing all household affairs of the Crassus family in place of her father, who was busy with administrative duties, and Michael, who was occupied with greater matters, had become an indispensable figure.

As the family's estate expanded, so did the funds under her control. The dowry sent from her maternal family was now hers to handle as she saw fit.

While drafting a letter to inform her father and Michael of the dowry she had received, Elizabeth glanced at the pile of letters stacked on the table and sighed. Half of them were invitations to various balls in the capital, while the other half were love letters from men seeking her favor.

Among the admirers, half coveted her power, and the other half were captivated by her beauty. With a resigned sigh, Elizabeth instructed her maid to read the letters for her. There might be gifts enclosed; it would be a waste to burn them outright.

Watching her, her twin sisters, Phoebe and Kate, stifled their laughter.

"Sister, our family's fortunes have improved so much, yet you're still so indifferent," Phoebe teased.

Having weathered the ups and downs of their family's growth together, the three had grown quite close. Elizabeth shook her head and playfully twisted Phoebe's nose.

"You little thing, you have no idea how valuable money is, do you?"

"Ow, ow! I know, I do! How could I not? Have you forgotten what kind of family we're from? I've been learning arithmetic since I was born—I'm a merchant's granddaughter!" Phoebe retorted, clutching her reddened nose and blinking back tears.

"I meant you should at least consider the proposals," Phoebe said, exasperated. "Isn't life boring like this? If I were as beautiful as you, I'd have at least ten boyfriends by now."

Elizabeth smirked. "You're too young to know what you're talking about. Do you think any of those men genuinely love me? They're all either after Michael's influence or infatuated with my looks."

Kate, listening, chimed in with a scolding tone. "That's because you don't even talk to men! Why not give them a chance? You'll have to marry someday."

Elizabeth sighed. She was content with her current life. As the household lacked a mistress, she had full authority over all family matters without interference.

She owed her freedom to her younger brother, Michael. It was his firm negotiations with their father that allowed her to live this way. Without him, she might have ended up caged like her peers, destined to marry some high-ranking noble heir in the capital—a thought that gave her a headache.

And, most of all...

"The men in the capital are unbearable," she declared. "They're all pale, with waists so thin it's revolting to watch them sway over and call, 'Elizabeth~' in that sickly sweet voice."

Phoebe and Kate exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter.