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It's early autumn now, and most of the flowers have already bloomed, except for the moon flowers. But compared to spring, the colours of the British countryside don't look monotonous. Some tall trees, such as birches and poplars, have their original wide dark green leaves with a gold edge, but the main body of the leaves is still green, and they are not as dry and curled as in late autumn, but can still sway gently in the branches with the breeze, like a little girl in a green dress with gold lace trim is dancing. And in the meadows next to the forest, the weeds that grow freely and flourish in the summer have also begun to show some changes. Some weeds have begun to turn yellow, while others are still verdant. These pale yellow and emerald green patches are intertwined like intricately patterned Persian carpets.

Carroll rode on a maroon British thoroughbred, which in later generations would have cost prohibitively high, and in the twenty-first century, a pure-blooded, beautifully shaped British thoroughbred like this could be worth tens of millions of dollars. And the cost of maintaining it is as high as hundreds of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of dollars per year, far higher than any kind of luxury car. In the 21st century, if you sue someone that you own a BMW, their first reaction will definitely be: rich man! Some girls will even tell you that she would like to cry in the back seat of your car. If you have a Rolls? Royce, ah, then you're not your average rich man, you can call it a big money. And if you have a descendant of an "Irish dancer" at home, wow, you're definitely a rich man. Of course, if you take it out to the street to fish for horses, the effect is far less than that of a BMW car whose price is not enough for its maintenance fee for a year, and you will be laughed at by people of the same level as you for being violent. Because even one of the hooves of this thing is worth more than the women on the street.

In the nineteenth century, owning a thoroughbred was just as much a sign of the wealthy. A thoroughbred like Carol's crotch is just as valuable. The horse was bought by Scrooge for Carroll, who had always been frugal at the time, and almost fainted when he heard the horse's staggering price. However, Scott told him that these investments are necessary, if there are no external luxuries, how can you show the momentum of a big tyrant, and how can you let those snobbish Europeans follow behind and beg to make friends with you?

Now, next to Carroll, there are many people staring at him, an American tyrant, and the BMW under his crotch with envy and jealousy. Some of the men were still muttering to themselves, accusing Carol of not being graceful enough to be worthy of his steed. (Carol once studied riding seriously with Robson for a while, but the difference between the riding skills he learned and the riding skills of the European nobles was quite large, and Robson taught him the riding skills of the rangers, not the elegant riding skills of the nobles) while some of the girls listened casually to a young man next to him commenting on Carroll's riding skills in a sour tone, while from time to time they cast curious and envious eyes on this "tyrant who has no temperament at all". Some of the girls would sit together in the open carriage and their female companions would discuss in a whisper:

"I've heard that his family's fortune has exceeded seven million pounds and is still growing."

"One of my elders said that in less than two years, their family's fortune will exceed 20 million."

"Twenty million, is it pounds? Oh my! But this is his family's money, how much can he dispose of himself? ”

"Emily, I've heard that his family is only two people in his generation...... Moreover, he was the head of business throughout Europe, and it is said that he received more than a million pounds of wealth every year. ”

"Oh my God! Is their family a gold mine......"

Their gaze on Carol was even more intense, as if he had carved it out of real gold. In fact, from ancient times to modern times, and even to the distant future, the criteria for women to choose marriage partners have not changed much.

Catherine, who was also sitting in the open-top carriage, naturally heard these discussions, and she couldn't help but furrow her thin eyebrows slightly.

"You women! Don't you feel ashamed of staring only at other people's money bags? Catherine thought so, and felt an inexplicable hostility towards these girlfriends who had known her since she was very young.

"Catherine, I heard that your uncle and that Mr. MacDonald are good friends?" It was Anne, who was sitting across from her.

Looking at Anne's eager gaze, Catherine did not feel a little irritated. However, she still suppressed her unhappiness, tried to maintain the smile on her face, and slowly replied, "I don't know if she and my uncle are friends, because although they have a lot of interactions, most of their interactions are disputes over business matters. After each argument, my uncle would often be very angry and say, 'This rough American miser! ’”

"Mr. MacDonald is a miser?" Nina, who was sitting on the side, was surprised and said, "But look at his horse, how would a miser be willing to buy such a horse?" ”

"That horse is his brother, Scrooge? Mr. MacDonald asked my uncle to buy it for him. It is said that this Mr. MacDonald, knowing the price of the horse, almost had it taken to the market, but he could not resist his brother - well, in his family, the real most powerful man was his brother Scrooge? Mr. MacDonald ...... "For some reason, Catherine began to choreograph Carol with half-truths.

"Ah, a young man, if he really is a miser, it would be so boring." Some people say it half-truthfully.

"That's it, making so much money that I can't afford to spend it, it's really ......"

"What's the point of making money all day long without spending it."

From ancient times to the present, women have always felt worse about men who are too stingy, too unemotional, and too unwilling to spend money on women, for example, if you want to have countless mistresses and live a debaucherous life, Louis XIV and Lionheart, who spent most of his time out cutting people and basically did not go home, and even sold them all in exchange for cutting people's military expenses, the former is definitely more popular with women than the latter.

A simple sentence easily lowered the morale of the would-be enemy, which made Catherine feel a little proud. However, she knew that her girlfriends might not really believe what she said. So, well, she'd better create a chance to let the girls see for themselves the rudeness and miserliness of the Yankees.

By this time, the convoy had turned onto a path that led deep into the forest. At first, the path was lined with deciduous trees such as birch and poplar, and gradually became dominated by taller European larches and fir. Temperate forests are relatively sparse, and sunlight casts dappled light and shadow on the ground through the gaps between the branches of verdant fir trees or yellowish European larch. Sometimes, you can see a big gray squirrel, dragging its thick furry tail, running from branch to branch in search of pine cones. There were also some dead branches and leaves scattered on the road, and the carriage slowed down, not much slower than the average person's walking degree.

Carol jumped off the thoroughbred horse and led the horse on foot with the girls' carriage.

"Mr. MacDonald!" Catherine suddenly turned her head and shouted at Carol.

Carol led the horse and walked two quick steps to catch the carriage.

"Miss Catherine, do you have something to do with me?" Carol tilted her head and looked at the girl who always had an uncertain sparkle in her eyes.

"Why don't you ride a horse, but lead it on foot?" Catherine asked with a smile, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh, anyway, now that the carriage is slow, I can keep up on foot. The horse was too expensive, and I didn't want to wear it out. Carol replied honestly.

A meaningful smile appeared on Catherine's lips at this answer, and she replied in a voice like a yellow warbler, "Mr. MacDonald, you are such a caring man. Then she looked back at the other girls and squeezed her eyes mischievously.

The girls almost all had disappointed expressions on their faces, and Anne, who was sitting directly across from Catherine, lowered her head and took a sip, and whispered, "What a miser!" ”

At this time, the path turned to the left, and a wide valley covered with green grass appeared in front of everyone's eyes. In the middle of the wide, flat valley, a small stream flows slowly through it, dividing the valley in half. By the creek, there is an old two-storey villa. The villa was clearly made of black basalt, with a thick moss roof and ivy on the rough basalt walls. The yellow and green leaves swayed gently in the breeze.

"Mr. MacDonald!" Catherine turned her head and shouted to Carol, who was walking with her head down, "We're almost there." ”

"Ah, thank you, Miss Catherine." Carol looked up and walked all the way, which made him feel a little sorry for his new riding boots.

"Is that the house?" Carol asked.

"Yes, it's a safe haven for Sir Darcy in the country." Catherine smiled and said to Carol, "Do you think that house is beautiful?" ”

Carol looked earnestly at the villa, which was almost covered in ivy and moss, shook his head, and said, "No, I don't really like a house like that, it's too reminiscent of those haunted castles in ghost legends. I like something a little brighter. Maybe Sir Darcy should find someone to sort it out. ”

"The castle in a ghost story. Haha, Mr. MacDonald, have you read these kinds of books too? Well, I used to love to talk to me about this when my grandma was still around. Catherine smiled lightly.

"What a tasteless American bun!" Anne on the other side whispered.