Building a Conglomerate in Another World - Chapter 40 - Visiting the Fitzwilliam Estate Again

After learning the geopolitics of the new world that he was living in, he now knew how to act accordingly.

Sooner or later, he would have to open a company abroad for the primary purpose of extracting valuable resources for his automobile company, the Kingdom of Siam is the best bet where he could open that rubber company due to it having the largest rubber producing country in the world.

The reason behind Thailand’s dominance in rubber production in his world was rooted in its unique geography and climate. The southern region of the country, with its dense tropical rainforests and abundant rainfall, provided the perfect conditions for rubber trees (Hevea brasiliensis) to thrive. Unlike the fragmented rubber plantations in other parts of Southeast Asia, Siam’s plantations were vast and well-managed, benefiting from fertile volcanic soil that was rich in nutrients. This ensured that the latex harvested was of exceptional quality and yield.

Rubber trees in Siam matured faster due to the region’s consistent humidity levels and temperatures averaging between 25 celsius to 32 celsius. These optimal conditions accelerated the sap production, allowing trees to be tapped more frequently without damaging them. Additionally, the natural resilience of the Hevea brasiliensis species in this environment meant fewer diseases and pests, reducing the need for chemical interventions that could otherwise harm the quality of the latex.

If we are talking about numbers, each mature Hevea brasiliensis tree could produce an average of 80 to 100 milliliters of latex sap per tapping session.

Given that rubber trees could be tapped up to twice a week without harming their health, a single tree could yield approximately 8 to 10 liters of latex per year.

Now, with vast plantations containing 10,000 trees per hectare, and a well-managed estate of around 1,000 hectares, Matthew calculated that his planned plantations could potentially produce around 100 million liters per year.

Raw latex needed to be processed and refined to convert it into usable rubber. Typically, 1 liter of raw latex could produce about 250 grams of solid rubber after processing, depending on the purity and water content of the sap.

This meant that 100 million liters of latex could produce 25,000 metric tons of solid rubber annually. On average, it took about 7 kilograms of processed rubber to manufacture one car tire. With the projected yield from his rubber plantations, he could produce approximately 3.57 million tires annually

This was an impressive figure, and Matthew knew that this was a chance to secure a monopoly of rubber production.

April 30th, 1881.

Matthew rode his automobile as this was becoming a convenient mode of transportation for him. And everytime he passed by a group of people or carriages, all eyes were on him as if he was the main character.

He was heading to Fitzwilliam estate to inform him of his plan on going to the Kingdom of Siam in Southeast Asia and opening a rubber plantation there.

The gates could be seen from afar and he pressed the accelerator, feeling the engine roar beneath him as the automobile surged forward. The wind whipped through his hair, and the gravel road leading to the Fitzwilliam estate flew by in a blur.

Moments later, he arrived at Fitzwilliam estate.

The guards stationed at the entrance quickly took notice of the unexpected arrival. They exchanged glances, clearly recognizing the young inventor who had made a name for himself as Mr. Fitzwilliam’s business partner. One of them stepped forward.

“Good day, sir,” the guard greeted, tipping his hat respectfully. “What brings you to the Fitzwilliam estate today?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Matthew replied as he rolled down the window. “I have urgent business to discuss with him.”

The guard hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. “I’m afraid Mr. Fitzwilliam is currently away on a business trip, sir. He won’t be back for a few days.”

Matthew frowned slightly, but quickly composed himself. “I see. Well, in that case, may I speak with Miss Amber Fitzwilliam? I believe she’s still here.”

The guard exchanged a quick glance with his companion before nodding. “Yes, Miss Amber is indeed at home. Given your association with Mr. Fitzwilliam, I see no harm in letting you through. Please proceed, sir.”

The heavy gates creaked open slowly, allowing Matthew to drive his automobile into the estate grounds. He parked the automobile in front of the main entrance and was escorted by one of the servants working on the estate.

They arrived at a room Matthew was not familiar with. It was not to Amber’s bedroom but to something else.

“This is the lady’s hobby room, you may now inform her of your presence by knocking on the door,” said the female servant.

Matthew did as he was told, knocking on the door and introducing himself.

“Amber, this is Matthew.”

“Matthew?!”

He could hear a faint exclamation from Amber, followed by a flurry of activity on the other side of the door. It sounded like something being hastily shuffled around, a few clatters, and the distinct sound of something metal dropping to the floor. Matthew’s brow furrowed in curiosity as he waited. It seemed as though she was trying to hide or clean something in a hurry.

After a few more moments of what sounded like panicked scrambling, the door finally creaked open. Amber stood there, slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed. The first thing Matthew noticed was the streaks of paint smeared across her face and on the sleeves of her blouse. It was an unusual sight—he had never seen her in such a state before. She was usually so meticulously put together where every detail of her appearance was carefully curated.

Matthew couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle. “Amber, I believe you’ve missed a spot,” he said, pointing to the streak of bright blue paint running across her cheek.

Amber’s eyes widened, and she quickly dabbed at her face with the back of her hand, only succeeding in smearing the paint further. “Oh, Matthew! I—uh, wasn’t expecting anyone,” she stammered, clearly flustered.

Matthew leaned casually against the doorframe, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I can see that. I had no idea you were an artist.”

Amber’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and a shy smile replaced the look of panic on her face. “It’s just something I do in my spare time,” she admitted. “A way to… clear my mind.”

“Well, may I come in? I’m curious to see what’s kept you so busy that you didn’t hear my knock,” Matthew said, tilting his head to peer past her into the room.

Amber hesitated for a moment but then stepped aside to let him in. “I suppose it’s only fair, since you did catch me in the act.”

The room was filled with the scent of turpentine and linseed oil, the signature smells of a painter’s studio. Canvases of various sizes were propped up against the walls, some completed while others were still in progress. The centerpiece was an easel set up by the window, bathed in the warm afternoon light. On it was a large canvas, depicting two birds—one with its head resting sweetly against the other.

“Waah don’t look at it!”

Amber’s voice came out in a panicked squeak as she rushed forward, her hands flailing in an attempt to block Matthew’s view of the canvas. Her cheeks, already flushed, deepened in color, and her fumbling hands only smeared more paint onto her already colorful sleeves.

Matthew couldn’t suppress his amused grin. “Why not? It looks beautiful already,” he teased, leaning to the side to get a better view.

“B-because it’s not done yet!” Amber stammered, her hands now hovering awkwardly in front of the painting, unsure whether to cover it or try to wipe the paint from her face. “I—It’s just a rough sketch… not ready for anyone to see.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t look,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “But from what I did see, it’s impressive. You’ve got quite the talent, Amber.”

Amber dropped her hands to her sides, letting out a relieved sigh. “You’re just saying that,” she muttered, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment, and wiped at her cheek again, only to smear the paint further.

Matthew chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here, let me help,” he offered, stepping closer. He gently wiped at the streaks of paint on her face.

Amber froze, her breath hitching slightly as their eyes met. For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in the softly lit room.

“There,” Matthew said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “Much better. Though, I must say, the blue does suit you,” he added with a teasing grin.

Amber’s lips quirked up into a shy smile, her eyes flickering to the floor. “Thank you, Matthew. And… I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so I… well, I lost track of time.”

Matthew waved off her apology. “No need to explain. Honestly, it’s nice to see you doing something you’re passionate about,” he said sincerely. “Art seems to bring you joy, and that’s worth more than any polished appearance.”

Amber’s eyes softened at his words, her nervous energy fading. “It’s one of the few things that’s truly mine,” she confessed quietly. “A place where I can forget everything else… just for a little while.”

“I get that,” Matthew replied with a gentler tone. “Everyone needs an escape from the world sometimes. For me, it’s building things. For you, it’s painting.”

Amber nodded, her expression turning contemplative. “I just… wish I had more freedom to pursue it,” she admitted. “But, as you know, my father has… other plans for me.”

In order to not let the atmosphere feel pensive, Amber shifted the topic.

“So, why are you here?”

“I came here to see your father and discuss business, but it seemed that he was not here,” Matthew revealed.

“My father is in Amsterdam speaking with the inventor of light bulb, Mr. Volta. I was told that they are planning on lighting up the entire country.”

“I see, with his direct current system,” Matthew said. “If only they knew how inefficient and expensive that venture would be.”

“Oh my….you know about electricity too, Matthew?”

“Well I do,” Matthew replied.

“Let me ask, is seeing my father urgent to you?” Amber inquired.

“You can say that,” Matthew answered. “Why do you ask?”

Amber grinned and suggested. “Then why don’t we head there to Amsterdam and speak with him directly?”