It is now early autumn, and except for roses, most of the flowers have bloomed. However, compared to spring, the colors in the British suburbs do not appear monotonous. Some tall trees, such as birch, poplar, etc., their originally wide dark green leaves have been inlaid with a golden edge, but the main body of the leaves is still green, and it is not as dry as in late autumn. They can still sway gently on the branches with the breeze, just like a little girl wearing a green skirt with golden lace edges dancing. On the grass next to the forest, the wild grass that grows freely and prosperous in summer have also begun to undergo some changes. Some of the wild grasses have begun to turn yellow, while others are still green. These light yellow and emerald green are mixed together, like Persian carpets with exquisite patterns.

Carol rode on a maroon British purebred horse. In later generations, the price of such things can be said to be ridiculously high. By the 21st century, a British purebred horse with pure blood and beautiful shape may be worth tens of millions of dollars. The cost of maintaining it is as high as more than 100,000 or even hundreds of thousands of dollars a year, which is much higher than any luxury car. In the 21st century, if you tell others that you have a BMW, your first reaction must be: rich people! Some girls will even tell you that she is willing to be with you.

Crying in the back seat of the car. If you have a Rolls or Reus, then you are not an ordinary rich man, you can be called a wealthy man. And if you have a descendant of an "Irish dancer" at home, wow, then you are definitely a rich man. Of course, if you lead it out to the street to catch horses, the effect will probably be far less than a BMW that is less than its annual maintenance fee, and you will be laughed at by people of the same level as you for wasting your resources. Because even one hoof of this thing is much more valuable than those women on the street.

In the 19th century, having a purebred horse was a symbol of a rich man. A purebred horse as strong as Carol’s crotch was also valuable. This horse was bought by Scrooge for Carol. Carol, who had always been frugal at the time, almost fainted when he heard the amazing price of the horse. However, Scrooge told him that these investments were necessary. Without the conspicuous luxury goods, how could he show the momentum of a rich man? How could those Europeans with snobbish eyes follow behind and beg for you to make friends with you?

Now, next to Carol, there are many people staring at him, the American tyrant and the BMW under his crotch with envious and jealous eyes. Some men are still muttering in a low voice, accusing Carol of riding inadequately, and not worthy of his horse. (Carol once studied riding with Robson for some time, but the riding he learned is quite different from the riding of European nobles. Robson teaches him the riding of Rangers, not the elegant riding of those nobles) while some girls casually listen to a young man beside him commenting on Carol's riding in a sour tone, and occasionally turn curious and envious eyes to this "nobleman with no temperament at all". Some girls even gather together with the female companions sitting in the convertible carriage and discuss in a low voice:

"I heard that his family's property has exceeded £7 million and is growing rapidly."

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

"Is it pound 20 million? Oh my God! But this is the money of his family, how much can he control himself?"

"Emily, I heard that his family is only two people in his generation... and he is also the head of business in Europe, and it is said that he receives more than one million pounds in his hands every year."

"Oh my God! Are their family running gold mines..."

Their eyes on Carol were even more enthusiastic, just as he was carved out of real gold. In fact, from ancient times to modern times, and even to a very distant future, the standards for women to choose marriage partners have not changed much.

Catherine, who was also sitting in the convertible carriage, naturally heard these comments, and she couldn't help but frown her thin eyebrows slightly.

"You women! You are only focused on other people's wallets. Don't you feel ashamed?" Catherine thought this way, and she also developed an inexplicable hostility towards these best friends whom she knew at a young age.

"Catherine, I heard that your uncle is good friends with that Mr. MacDonald?" Anne, who was sitting opposite her, said.

Looking at Anne's eager gaze, Catherine felt a little irritated. However, she still suppressed her unhappiness and tried hard 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 relationships, most of their relationships are disputes about business matters. After each dispute, the uncle often says very angryly: 'This rough American miser!'"

"Mr. MacDonald is a miser?" Nina, who was sitting beside him, said in surprise. "But look at his horse, would a miser like this be willing to buy a horse like this?"

"The horse was his younger brother, Mr. Scourge McDonald asked my uncle to buy it for him. It is said that after Mr. McDonald knew the price of the horse, he almost led it to the market to sell it, but he could not resist his brother - well, in his family, the one who has the most power is his brother Mr. Scourge McDonald..." For some reason, Catherine began to arrange Carol half-true and half-false.

"Ah, a young man, if he is really a miser, it would be boring." Someone said half-truely.

"That's right, I'm making so much money, I can't bear to spend it. This is really..."

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

From ancient times to the present, women always have a worse feeling about men who are too stingy, too unemotional, and too unwilling to spend money on women. For example, if they want to spend countless mistresses, Louis XIV, who lives in vain and mostly die outside and chop people outside, and even sell the capital and exchange it for military expenses, the former is definitely more popular than the latter.

Catherine felt a little proud of her own simplicity by easily reducing the morale of her possible enemies. But she knew that her best friends might not really believe everything she said easily. So, well, she would better create an opportunity to let those girls see the rudeness and stinginess of the Americans with their own eyes.

At this time, the convoy had turned on a path leading directly to the deep forest. At first, the path was lined with deciduous trees such as birch and poplar trees, gradually being scattered by taller European larch and fir. The temperate forest was relatively sparse, and the sun shone mottled light and shadow on the ground through the gaps between the branches of green fir or the yellow European larch. Sometimes, you can also see big gray squirrels, dragging their furry tails, running from this branch to that branch to search for pine cones everywhere. There were also some dead branches and leaves scattered on the road. The speed of the carriage slowed down, which was not much slower than that of ordinary people.

Carol jumped off the pure blood horse and walked along the girls' carriage.

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

Carol took the horse and walked two steps quickly and caught up with the carriage.

"Miss Catherine, are you asking me for trouble?" Carol raised his head and looked at the girl whose eyes were always shining with unpredictable light.

"Why don't you ride a horse but walk with your horse?" Catherine asked with a smile, her eyes flashing.

"Oh, anyway, the carriage is walking slowly now, so I can keep up with it. This horse is too expensive, and I don't want to get tired of it." Carol replied honestly.

Hearing this answer, a meaningful smile appeared on the corner of Catherine's mouth, and then she replied in an oriole-like voice: "Mr. MacDonald, you are such a caring person." Then she turned around and looked at the other girls, thrusting her eyes mischievously.

The girls almost showed disappointed expressions on their faces. The Anne, who was sitting directly opposite Catherine, lowered her head and spat, and said in a low voice: "What a stingy man!"

At this time, the path turned to the left, and a vast valley covered with green grass appeared in front of everyone. In the middle of the wide and flat valley, a stream slowly flowed through here, dividing the valley in two halves. Beside the stream, there is an old two-story villa. This villa made of black basalt is obviously quite old. The roof is covered with thick moss, and the rough basalt walls are also covered with ivy. Yellow or green leaves sway gently in the breeze.

"Mr. MacDonald!" Catherine turned her head and shouted to Carol, who was following behind, who was walking with his head down, "We're about to arrive."

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

"Is that house the same?" Carol asked.

"Yes, that's a comforting house in the countryside for Sir Darcy." Catherine smiled and said to Carol, "Do you think that house is beautiful?"

Carol looked at the villa that was almost wrapped in ivy and moss, shook his head and said, "No, I don't like a house like that. It makes people think of the haunted castle in the legend of ghost legend. I like something brighter. Maybe Sir Darcy should find someone to sort it out."

"The castle in the ghost story. Haha, Mr. MacDonald, have you read this kind of book? Well, my grandma liked to tell me these things the most when she was still there." Catherine smiled slightly.

"What a tasteless American bun!" Anne from the opposite side said softly.
Chapter completed!