Chapter 105

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: The Hunting Party (8)
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Late that night, when Ramswick entered his master's bedchamber, Ian Dalton was lying on the bed, the back of his hand pressed against his eyes.

He had half-removed his tuxedo. Between his carelessly loosened linen tie and his shirt, unbuttoned four or five times, his defined collarbone and the cleft of his chest were faintly visible. His once-combed hair was a mess, and his jacket and vest lay strewn on the floor as if tossed aside.

It was a stark contrast to his usual self, who maintained a tidy suit even when off duty. But Ramswick was not surprised.

Miss Sheldon had been avoiding his master for the past three days. The two, who had once sought each other out like an affectionate husband and wife, who used to whisper and laugh like well-matched childhood friends, had become like strangers.

She wouldn't even let his master speak to her, and if he came near, she would quickly move away like a deer hearing a hunter's footsteps. Ramswick, who had been observing the situation from afar until today, the last day of the gathering, felt his heart ache as he watched his master's wounded expression. Miss Sheldon was giving his master no attention at all, forcing him to glean her state of mind only through the butler.

"Sir. I have a report."

His master turned his head. His face, haggard from lack of sleep, stared at the small, elderly butler. He slowly sat up, perching on the edge of the bed.

"I brought her the coffee cake and sherbet, saying Mr. Philip had sent them. She ate about half before sending it away. Her spirits seem fine, and she is eager for the gathering to end so she can return to Dunville Park."

"And what I asked you to find out?"

Ramswick swallowed hard.

As he hesitated, his master's face hardened.

"Answer me."

"...At first, she just said she didn't know, but when I asked repeatedly, she told me. She said she might go to the boarding school she graduated from and become a teacher. She has already sent a letter to inquire if there is a position..."

His face crumpled in devastation. He lowered his head and rubbed his dry face with his hands.

Ramswick's heart burned with worry. Was Miss Sheldon truly planning to leave his master? If so, would his master be able to accept that reality?

His master hadn't slept a wink since Miss Sheldon began to ignore him. He smoked cigarette after cigarette and refused his meals. No matter what was said to him, he acted dazed, puzzling the servants and guests alike. It was as if he had lost his mind.

*What if he goes mad?*

The faithful old butler, whose only concern was his master's peace and happiness, found his wrinkles deepening with worry.

"She asked me to inform you, sir. She said there will be a fireworks display at tomorrow's ball, right after the final cotillion. She mentioned that since it's the last day, she thought a grand finale event was needed and ordered it specially."

As if he couldn't care less about such matters, he took a cigar from the box and lit it. Ramswick bowed his head and left the room.

*Click.* The sound of the door closing echoed.

He smoked in the dim room. When one cigar burned down, he lit another, and when that was finished, he lit yet another in succession.

But he could not find the solace he hoped for. The tightness in his chest only grew.

*She might leave Dunville Park?*

The nightmare he had feared was becoming a reality.

He couldn't figure out where it had all gone wrong. He had hoped that during the preparations, she would grow accustomed to Whitefield Hall. That she would get to know every corner of the estate, befriend the servants, and feel less burdened by the prospect of becoming its mistress when he proposed.

He also wanted to show the nobles who had slighted her what a strong protector she had gained, and to let her boast about what a brilliant painter her father was.

But this plan had only driven her further away.

*To think they called her my mistress. If only I could find the scoundrel who uttered those filthy words and tear his mouth apart, I would have no other wish.*

But he couldn't waste time on such vengeance. Laura was planning to leave. She was about to fly away for good.

*I won't be able to live if she leaves.*

The past three days of her avoidance had been hell. Nothing registered in his mind. The people moving before his eyes all looked like monkeys. Even when William repeatedly waved his fingers in front of his face, asking how many he saw, he couldn't answer.

*I can't let her leave. I have to make her stay by my side, no matter what.*

He wracked his brain. But even with a clear head, he was never rational when it came to Laura. His brain, sleepless for three days, came up with a ridiculous answer.

*Before Laura leaves, I'll propose to her.*

He bit down on his cigar.

*At the ball tomorrow, I'll quietly call her out to the terrace. And I'll tell her I've loved her all this time... But she won't accept.*

He stubbed out the cigar and chewed on his fingernails. Soon, an outrageous idea popped into his head.

*If she refuses, I'll threaten to throw myself off the terrace.*

Adrenaline surged through his body with excitement. He shot up and began pacing around the bed.

*Yes, she'll surely accept then. She's a kind and compassionate person. Let's get married first. We'll live in separate rooms, like brother and sister, until she comes to love me. I'll wait for years until she truly loves me. When her heart feels the same as mine, that's when our married life will truly begin.*

Was his judgment paralyzed by lack of sleep? Captivated by the possibility of binding Laura to his side, he had forgotten her strong faith. It was obvious how much contempt Laura, a Christian who considered suicide the most terrible of sins, would feel if she knew of his plan.

The next morning, as soon as the sun rose, he dispatched a servant to retrieve a diamond ring from the bank vault. It was a Dalton family heirloom, the very wedding ring his father had placed on his mother's finger on their wedding day.

Around dinnertime, the swift servant presented the ring to his master.

Mr. Dalton slipped the diamond ring, as large as a thumbnail and nestled in its case, into the breast pocket of his tuxedo. Then, in his gleaming shoes, he made his way down to the ballroom below.

* * *

The ballroom was deafeningly loud, a mixture of the orchestra's music and the chatter of the guests.

Mr. Fairfax enjoyed a quadrille with his sister before they parted ways to find their respective friends.

He had decided to dance the next cotillion with Miss Pendleton.

He hadn't had a proper conversation with her in the past few days. There was much to catch up on. Miss Pendleton was a dear friend, whom he cherished as much as Miss Hyde, and a person he respected greatly.

Mr. Fairfax found her by the refreshment table. She was wearing a deep purple velvet dress adorned with white lace and solid gold accessories, instructing Ramswick to send more maids to the ladies' retiring room.

Upon seeing Mr. Fairfax, she curtsied slightly.

"Good evening, Mr. Fairfax."

"Good evening, Miss Pendleton. Ah, but Pendleton is a forgotten name of the past, is it not?"

"I don't mind what I'm called. Please, call me whatever is most comfortable for you."

"I shall call you Miss Sheldon. After having such a magnificent father, you lived for so long without your name. From now on, you should be called by that proud name."

Laura smiled brightly. Yet, Mr. Fairfax could sense a faint shadow in her smiling face.

*Is something troubling her?*

He decided to postpone his question. Pointing out a lady's poor complexion was not proper etiquette.

"Miss Sheldon, is your next cotillion spoken for?"

"No."

"Then, may I have the honor?"

"I'd be delighted. It's a pleasure to dance with you again after so long, Mr. Fairfax. You are a master of ballroom dancing, after all."

"I am at a level not to be ashamed before you, Miss Sheldon. And are your steps not lighter than a feather?"

Laura chuckled. But in an instant, her laughter died. Her gaze went past Mr. Fairfax's shoulder.

Mr. Fairfax turned around. Ian was striding through the ballroom, looking around in every direction.

He raised his hand.

"Hey, I—!"

"Mr. Fairfax!"

He turned back to Laura.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to dance the next cotillion. Please forgive me, Mr. Fairfax."

"Are you unwell, by any chance?"

"No. Um... I just remembered something I forgot to instruct."

"I worry you're working too hard. You're not enjoying yourself at all."

"Please, enjoy yourself enough for the both of us. And please, don't tell Mr. Dalton which way I went."

"Ah... yes."

Laura hastily departed. The moment she disappeared, Ian approached him.

"William, have you seen Miss Pendleton?"

"Huh?"

He shifted his eyes.

"I... haven't seen her."

Ian ran a hand through his neatly combed-back hair.

"Damn it, where did she go?"

Mr. Fairfax studied Ian's face. Ian, who had been growing more haggard by the day, had an excited flush about him today for some reason.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing. Let me know if you find Miss Pendleton."

"Uh-huh..."

"And if Miss Lance asks for me, tell her you haven't seen me. She's been sticking to me like a leech these past few days, and it's driving me mad."

"Hey, how can you talk about a lady like that—"

Ian disappeared into the crowd without waiting for him to finish.

*I don't know what's going on. Are they playing hide-and-seek?*

He shrugged and wandered through the hall in search of another friend. Just then, he spotted his sister's back in the distance. She was mingling with Miss Lance and her group of friends.

He approached them to greet the ladies.

"Good evening."

The ladies curtsied.

"Are you having a pleasant time?"

"Of course."

Miss Lance chuckled. She looked even more vibrant than when he had seen her on the train. Her hairstyle and dress were magnificent. Among all the women in the ballroom, her elegance truly stood out.

"Brother, brother, Miss Lance's dress, it was handmade by a tailor from France!"

Miss Lance blushed, embarrassed. Mr. Fairfax clapped his hands to play along.

"No wonder you were dazzling from afar. You are undoubtedly the star of the evening."

Miss Lance's friends laughed merrily. Miss Lance's cheeks turned a rosy shade.

"Thank you."

"I imagine your dance card for the evening is already full."

"Not at all. One dance, of course, must be with you, Mr. Fairfax."

"The honor is all mine, Miss Lance."

Just then, Miss Wilkes, who was standing beside her, opened her fan to cover her mouth and whispered to Miss Lance.

"Not the waltz. Not the waltz!"

"Be quiet!"

Though it was a whisper, Mr. Fairfax heard it all.

*It seems she's saving the waltz for her lover.*

He chuckled to himself.

"The cotillion has already begun, so may I reserve the next country dance?"

"Of course."

"By the way, Mr. Fairfax, have you seen Mr. Dalton?"

Miss Orson, who was next to Miss Lance, asked.

Mr. Fairfax felt torn between his friend's request and his duty to be courteous to a lady.