Chapter 100

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: The Hunting Party (3)
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Laura visited Whitefield every day. She inspected each room of the mansion, surveyed the main hall, and assessed the size and capabilities of the staff.

The innocent country servants, who had known nothing but cleaning, laundry, and cooking, were utterly astonished. Ramswick, the butler, was just as bewildered.

Laura gave Ramswick detailed instructions on everything, from A to Z. She shared a specific schedule and told him which servants to station where.

Ramswick learned Laura's instructions and assigned roles to the servants. It was like an army. The servants were the soldiers, Ramswick was the adjutant, and Laura was the general.

Laura would arrive at Whitefield around ten in the morning. She and Ramswick would then walk through the mansion, designating bedrooms for the guests and inspecting the newly arrived decorative banners and wines.

The busy hours would pass, and soon it would be lunchtime. Wherever she was, Mr. Dalton would come to escort her himself. The two would walk to the dining room side by side and have their meal together.

In the dining room, where the landscape of Whitefield unfolded like a painting, the two of them ate facing each other. It was a pleasant and comfortable time.

After the meal, they would take a short walk around Whitefield. Then they would return to their respective duties—he to his study, and Laura to the office he had provided for her.

According to Mr. Ramswick, the butler, this had been the office of the late Mrs. Dalton. From the elegant furniture, Laura could glimpse the former lady's refined taste.

There, Laura planned the menus and interviewed musicians.

Around four o'clock, Mr. Dalton would come to Laura's office, pushing a cart laden with tea and snacks. It was shocking for the master of the house to be doing a servant's work, but he paid it no mind.

He would pour tea for Laura himself and hand her a slice of cake. Then he would pull up a chair, sit beside her, and begin to chatter.

Laura never knew Ian was such a talker. She guessed he must have been lonely without any close friends nearby.

Laura listened attentively to his words. She, in turn, told him how she had spent her afternoon. He listened to every detail. Even though it was nothing special, a smile bloomed on his face.

As they chatted about this and that, dinnertime would arrive in a flash. The two would go to the dining room together again for their meal. Afterward, he would see her off as she returned to Dunville Park.

Spending every day like this, Laura became as familiar with Whitefield as she was with Dunville Park. She knew the servants' names and the layout of the house like the back of her hand. She had grown close to Mr. Ramswick and was on comfortable speaking terms with Philip, the cook. And thanks to Mr. Dalton's chatter, she knew his daily routine by heart as well.

Each day felt as happy as if she were walking through a dream.

Whitefield was a beautiful place. Even Laura, whose reason was more developed than her sentimentality, was moved by it. She enjoyed the time she spent wandering inside the mansion. And she liked sharing her day with Mr. Dalton. She wished these moments would never end.

But time did not stand still, and soon the hunting party was just around the corner.

Laura packed her bags for the week-long stay. She now had many party dresses.

The day before the hunting party, Mrs. Fairfax summoned Laura to her dressing room. She opened her wardrobe and handed Laura a pile of silk dresses. Every one of them was elegant without being ostentatious. Even to Laura, who had seen tens of thousands of dresses in high society, they looked magnificent.

They were clothes that the late Mrs. Dalton had bequeathed to her daughter upon her death. Mrs. Fairfax told her to wear them to the upcoming party.

Laura declined, but Mrs. Fairfax persuaded her persistently. She even lent Laura her mother's jewels.

"Dress up nicely and stay by Ian's side to take good care of him. That boy can't do anything without you. But that doesn't mean you should only work. Don't be timid; go and have a wonderful time."

Knowing that excessive refusal would be impolite, Laura accepted the dresses, promising to take good care of them and return them pristine.

The next day, Laura settled into the carriage. Leaving behind the smiling Fairfax mother and daughter who saw her off, and the brothers who were whining about being separated from their teacher for a whole week—and at their uncle's house, which they feared more than ghosts—she headed for Whitefield Hall.

***

*Clatter, clatter.*

The scenery of a plain where flocks of sheep grazed flashed past the window.

Miss Lance, who was gazing out the window, smiled. Based in London, she was quite enjoying this trip to the countryside after a long time away from the city. She filled her eyes with the lush greenery, happily savoring even the train's swaying, which caused a slight motion sickness.

A soft snoring sound reached her ears. She turned her head toward the source of the sound. Her eyes, which had been taking in the greenery, now saw the top of Miss Janet's head.

Miss Janet, seemingly tired, was dozing off, her head bobbing forward. She was snoring softly.

Miss Lance smiled and looked at Mr. Fairfax. He met her eyes and smiled back.

"She must be very tired."

"Indeed. She was too excited about visiting Whitefield to sleep."

He gently placed his sister's head, which was swaying like an ear of rice in the wind, onto his own shoulder. Then, with an apologetic glance at Miss Lance, he drew the window curtain.

*'What a kind brother.'*

Miss Lance felt a pleasant warmth as she watched Mr. Fairfax drape a blanket over his sister's shoulders.

Miss Lance had originally planned to travel with her three usual friends. However, since Miss Victoria Wilkes had become engaged to Mr. George Orson, Miss Daisy Orson's brother, the Orson family, now suddenly one unit, had taken seats together.

That left her one remaining friend, Miss Susan Donovan, who should have been by her side, but Miss Donovan was visiting her aunt with her mother and would be joining them later.

For Miss Lance, who was suddenly left alone, Miss Janet's shy invitation to share a train compartment was not at all unwelcome.

The three of them had a very enjoyable time. They played cards, took turns telling amusing stories they knew, and recited from the poetry books they each had brought. But after about half a day, even that grew tiresome, and a period of silence fell over them.

It was the sound of Miss Janet's snoring that broke the silence.

"Mr. Fairfax, how long has it been since you've been down to Yorkshire?"

"With business and all, I believe it's been nearly two years. I wonder how much my niece and nephews have grown. I'm not even sure if they'll remember me."

"You seem like a very affectionate uncle. You're so good to your sister, after all."

Mr. Fairfax smiled, his eyes crinkling shyly. His handsome face looked even more splendid when he smiled.

"I am close with my niece and nephews. I'm quite fond of children."

"Oh my. It's surprising that you're still not married, then."

Miss Lance winced internally. She had just remembered that he had pursued Miss Jane Hyde six months ago, only to be rejected. It was a dull piece of gossip that most had forgotten, but the wound might not have healed for the person involved.

But he was still smiling cheerfully.

"I haven't met the right person yet. Though I pray earnestly every night for a good bride to be sent my way."

"So you do intend to marry?"

"Of course. I am no bachelor by choice. People assume a young, single man doing business in London would want to enjoy his freedom and postpone the shackles of marriage for as long as possible. But I have always thought of my current life as temporary."

He continued in a gentle tone.

"I need a family. A like-minded wife to spend my life with, and lovely children who will call me Father. My life will truly begin after marriage. I believe the life of a husband and a father is the real life where a man fulfills his duty."

It was a truly sound way of thinking. Miss Lance was impressed.

"If you were to marry, would you leave your life in London behind?"

"If my wife wished to remain, we would continue to live in the townhouse, but I would prefer to move to the country. I've even bought a small country house in Somerset, though it's currently being leased out."

Though she feigned disinterest, real estate was one of her passions. She asked about the size of the country house in a roundabout way.

Mr. Fairfax perceived Miss Lance's intentions but didn't let on, answering straightforwardly.

"Compared to Whitefield Hall, where we are headed now, it is quite modest. It's not even as grand as Dunville Park, where I was born and raised, which my elder brother Robert inherited and now manages so well."

Miss Lance asked a few careful questions, and from his answers, she could gauge the size of the country house. It was a two-story stone house, somewhere between a mansion and a cottage. A spacious garden with a gazebo. An excellent view overlooking hills and an orchard. A large market nearby, ensuring easy transport of goods.

Miss Lance was astonished. Even for someone successful in business, it was remarkable for a second son—who, under English law, inherits almost nothing—to have acquired such wealth at the young age of twenty-nine.

Miss Lance thought of Miss Jane Hyde. She was a slender lady with a unique charm, but one could not call her a beauty. That lady had rejected Mr. Fairfax and taken a job as a typist.

To Miss Lance, it was incomprehensible. How could someone turn down such a fine prospective husband to become a mere typist?

For a woman to earn her own living meant she had failed in the marriage market—either because her family was poor, she had married the wrong man, or she was dreadfully ugly. That was how the world saw it, and deep down, Miss Lance thought so too.

*'A truly incomprehensible young lady.'*

Miss Lance clicked her tongue inwardly. And she felt a sense of joy that Mr. Fairfax, who might (no, would certainly) become a relation of hers, was such a respectable and capable gentleman.

The train continued on its way.

The two of them talked much more than usual. This was because Miss Janet, who normally never stopped talking, was asleep. Mr. Fairfax, who tended to keep quiet unless spoken to, spoke more than he usually did to ensure the young lady before him was not bored.

As both had amiable personalities, the conversation was not dull.

Mr. Fairfax felt a sense of pleasure as he watched the cheerfully chattering Miss Lance. She was a truly charming young lady. Before getting to know her, he had only admired her from a distance, thinking her quite a beauty. But now that he had unexpectedly formed an acquaintance with her, he found her agreeable and did not dislike her company.

She had an innocent and frank nature, was vivacious and imaginative. At twenty, she could not be called young in society, but she seemed just like a girl. At times she was overly frank and seemed immature, but knowing there was no real malice behind it, it came across as naivety.

Miss Lance was far from his ideal type. The wife he wanted was an intelligent woman with firm convictions. A respectable woman with whom he could exchange opinions as an equal.

But that was because he was a peculiar man. A charming woman like Miss Lance was surely the ideal wife many a London gentleman dreamed of.

*'Who will be the lucky man to become this lady's husband?'*