Chapter 108

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: The Worst Night (3)
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‘Miss Pendleton.’

She must have known it all. Her own misunderstanding, and the truth of Mr. Dalton’s feelings.

Miss Lance recalled the picnic from last spring. Miss Pendleton running away, and Mr. Dalton chasing after her.

She had believed he betrayed Miss Pendleton after learning of her birth. But perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps he was ardently in love with Miss Pendleton, but she was the one pushing him away.

Why hadn’t she thought of this?

Why, indeed. Subconsciously, she had looked down on her. For her questionable birth. For being a spinster. For having no fortune.

‘She was the most perceptive person in London, and the one who had my best interests at heart…’

The truth stripped her ego bare. And that naked form was a far cry from her twenty-year-old body—it was shabby, twisted, and frail.

‘I thought I was so clever. I thought I was so much better than my father, blinded by rank; my mother, obsessed with money; and my childish friends. But I’m no different from them. I’m just a foolish twenty-year-old girl.’

Miss Lance covered her face with her hands. Soon, her palms were damp with tears. These were not the sentimental tears of a heartbroken woman, but the bitter tears of self-awareness that only one who has truly faced themself can shed.

* * *

Laura, dressed in a green checkered dress with a white shawl, emerged from the mansion’s entrance. Two maids followed behind her, carrying luggage.

A dark chestnut four-wheeled carriage stood before the mansion. The waiting Whitefield coachman loaded the luggage with the help of a maid. Meanwhile, Miss Pendleton climbed into the carriage.

She was eager to leave this house. She needed time alone to sort through her thoughts.

It was early last summer when she had believed Mr. Dalton's heart belonged to another lady. That was when he had suddenly reappeared, mingling with Miss Lance's circle and asking for her help in finding a match.

Seeing Mr. Dalton's attitude, armed as it was with friendship, Laura had completely discarded the belief that his heart was directed toward her.

But it was an act. A mask. He had used Miss Lance to deceive her, knowing how defensive she was about love.

Once the luggage was loaded, the maid gave a curtsy and returned to the mansion, while the coachman took his seat.

Miss Pendleton leaned her head out the window and ordered him to depart.

The coachman immediately cried, "Giddy-up!" and cracked the reins. The horses let out a long whinny and began to step forward.

Just then.

"Stop."

Laura looked toward the mansion entrance. A tall, slender figure of a man stood before the front door. It was Mr. Dalton.

The coachman quickly halted the carriage. He approached them.

Laura grew anxious and shouted to the coachman.

"Just go!"

He commanded the coachman.

"Drop the reins."

The coachman, of course, obeyed his master.

Mr. Dalton opened the carriage door without so much as asking for permission. Laura clenched her fists tightly.

"Am I not even permitted to leave of my own accord, Mr. Dalton?"

"Are you truly leaving without any discussion about what just happened?"

"I have nothing to say."

"If this matter is so insignificant that there's nothing to discuss, then you have no reason to avoid me, do you? And certainly no reason to be angry with me."

Laura looked at Mr. Dalton with cold eyes.

"What is there to discuss? The tale of how you toyed with Miss Lance to deceive me? The circumstances of how you armed yourself with lies to win me over?"

"The word 'toyed' is inaccurate. There was nothing more between Miss Lance and me than the friendship between you and William. Do not paint me as a scoundrel. For thirty years, I have lived my life without caring what anyone thinks of me. But to that rule, there has been a single exception. And that is you."

"..."

"Since it has come to this, I will confess everything. I fell in love with you at the ball where we first met. The reason I constantly hovered around you in London was not for friendship, but for love. But you did not want me, and after much deliberation, I acted as though another woman had my heart. In the forest cabin, I told you there was a lady I was fond of. That lady was you, Miss Pendleton."

Laura was speechless.

"I do not regret it. Had I not deceived you, you would never have become a governess at Dunville Park, nor would you have come here to Whitefield. Giving up on you was impossible, so it was an unavoidable choice."

"...What changes by bringing me here? Even if I were to fall in love with you, what more could we be than lovers? Surely you don't intend to marry me?"

"Why not?"

"That's absurd. The difference in our birth..."

"That is the core issue in our relationship. I know I cannot convince you with just a few words. Therefore."

He stepped into the carriage, sat down, and shut the door with a snap. Then he ordered the coachman to depart.

Miss Pendleton trembled in surprise. He crossed his arms.

"Let us speak of it at length on the way."

* * *

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

As the carriage passed through the Whitefield woods and past the familiar vicarage, not a word was spoken between the two.

Mr. Dalton stared intently at Laura's face the entire time. Laura, as if to avoid his gaze, only looked out the window.

She could feel that the man before her was waiting for her to speak first. Whether in anger or inquiry. But Laura could not find the words.

Despite her calm exterior, Laura's heart was in turmoil.

He had said he loved her. Not Miss Lance, not some other nameless lady, but Laura Sheldon.

She had thought it a presumptuous, unrequited love. A pain she would have to carry like a chronic illness for the rest of her life. But he had felt the same way.

It was certainly something to rejoice over, and a part of her heart was indeed rejoicing. Had she been alone in the carriage, she might have surrendered to her emotions, if only for a moment, and shed tears of happiness.

But the larger part of her—her overdeveloped sense of propriety, which was both her strength and her weakness—bound that joy tightly in chains.

"You have made a grave mistake concerning Miss Lance."

"Have I?"

"You have inflicted an irreversible wound upon her. London is a conservative place. A woman rumored to have been promised to one man can never secure a good husband. It is a harsh fate for a lady of only twenty."

"But she is the popular lady of a baronet's house. Her friends boast that she is never short of marriage proposals."

"That is only when her reputation is spotless."

"If you insist, Miss Pendleton, I will apologize to Miss Lance separately. So let us drop the subject of Miss Lance. We have a more important matter to discuss, do we not?"

Mr. Dalton dismissed the topic of Miss Lance as if it were a useless scrap of paper. The joy bound in chains shrank a little.

Laura gazed out the window, thinking of her seventeen-year-old self. All the things she had to endure in London after John Ashton left, when everyone knew she had been his lover.

Rumors spread like wildfire that she had lost her virtue, and there was even baseless gossip that she was pregnant. The ladies avoided speaking to her as if she were a woman of the streets, and the gentlemen insulted her with a sly kindness unbecoming of their station.

The memories of that time left countless scars on Laura's heart, which still pained her from time to time, even now at twenty-nine.

Miss Lance would now face the same fate. Her title as a baronet's daughter might lessen the blow, but Laura knew Miss Lance. A naive yet proud young lady. Such an ordeal would break her.

‘Because of the man I introduced her to…’

"Mr. Dalton."

Laura looked him straight in the eye.

"Marry Miss Lance."

Mr. Dalton's expression hardened. Laura knew her words would wound him, but she steeled herself and spoke with force.

"Save the lady whose life you have imperiled."

"I am not a knight who charges at a fire-breathing dragon to rescue a princess trapped in a tower."

"But you must not become the villain. She is an excellent prospect for a wife in many ways. She would suit you well, and through marriage, you could mutually benefit..."

"Enough!"

He suddenly raised his voice.

"I will not be told who I am to marry. Especially not by you...!"

His handsome face contorted.

"Even knowing my heart, you are concerned only with Miss Lance. Her reputation, her future, her marriage. What is she to you? Is she not just one of many acquaintances with whom you exchange lukewarm greetings at a ball?"

"..."

"You know my feelings now. You know that I love you, that I do not wish to marry any woman but you! And yet, how can you tell me to marry another? Are my feelings so meaningless? Do you not realize how your suggestion wounds me? Or... am I truly so insignificant to you?"

There was undeniable hurt in his voice.

"I am no gentleman. I have never been one. I am a man who lives as he pleases and takes what he wants, heedless of the opinions of others. For marriage, I have no other condition. Only love. And I feel that love for you and you alone. So do not try to persuade me with talk of conditions and benefits. The more you do, the harder my heart will become, like a rock. And that stone heart may yet drive you into a cave and seal the entrance forever."

Laura decided to give up on persuading him. He was a stubborn man, and his feelings for her were stronger than she had thought.

"I overstepped my bounds. I apologize. Who you marry is, of course, your decision to make, Mr. Dalton."

But his angry expression did not soften in the slightest.

"Who I will marry has already been decided. However, whether that marriage will happen at all depends on you."

"...Please, do not leave that decision to me. I cannot make you happy, Mr. Dalton."

"With a single nod of your head, you could make me the happiest man in the world."

"That is the one thing I cannot do for you."

"Why?"

"Anyone with any sense would not welcome a presumptuous marriage with open arms. It is certain to bring misery to one's spouse and children."

"Are you so afraid of the world? Is avoiding the gossip and disapproving glares of others your sole purpose in life, Miss Pendleton?"

"My purpose in life is to live righteously. Freedom, love, marriage—they must all be pursued within the bounds of not disrupting social order and not bringing unhappiness to those I hold dear. Those are the values I live by."

He laughed as if in disbelief.

"You speak of marrying me as if it were a crime."

"I am sorry if that wounded you."

"Do not apologize. It is no comfort at all."

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Finding it difficult to look at him in his distress, Laura turned her gaze back to the window.

"Miss Pendleton, let me ask you one thing."

After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Putting everything else aside, do you not have even the slightest feeling of love for me? Even for a fleeting moment is fine. Has your heart never fluttered while looking at me? Have you never tossed and turned late at night, thinking of me? Have you never once imagined a future with me?"