Chapter 13

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Deepening Friendship (2)
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“If he was born when Mr. Dalton was eight, he must be twenty-two now, correct?”

“That's right. He's currently studying at King's College, Cambridge, where I graduated. We meet once or twice a year to ride and fish, but he's not half as charming as he was when he was a boy.”

“And your other nieces and nephews?”

“The second is a girl. Olivia Fairfax. She is thirteen.”

“Oh, a niece. How lovely.”

“More so than Henry. But such a term is rather awkward for a proper young lady.”

“At thirteen, she is still a girl.”

“She's tall for her age and looks fifteen. And she's quite precocious. She won't forgive anyone who doesn't treat her as a lady, not even her own uncle.”

“That young lady must be desperate to make her debut in society.”

“You've guessed correctly, Miss Pendleton. She is merely waiting for the day she turns sixteen. But Olivia is a sharp girl, so she won't be much trouble. The real problem is the two below her, ten-year-old Daniel and eight-year-old George. They're hot-blooded enough to throw punches that could crack a jaw over a single pony. And after fighting like that, they're chuckling together a moment later, plotting what trouble to get into next. They are a handful, to say the least.”

Miss Pendleton couldn't help but laugh.

“Boys that age are often like that, aren't they?”

“That is an insult to me, who was once a boy myself, Miss Pendleton.”

“Yes, Mr. Dalton, I'm sure you had a very respectable childhood. But I believe that is because you were a dignified boy, not because your two nephews are particularly ill-behaved.”

“Indeed, if you were to see those two rascals for yourself, you certainly wouldn't pass such a cold judgment as I do. You have a warm and understanding nature. I, however, will maintain my stern attitude towards them. I am, regrettably, a man of the opposite temperament to yours, and besides, if I too were to dote on them, there would be no one left to teach them manners.”

From his words, Miss Pendleton could sense that Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax, the masters of Dunville Park, were rather lenient in their child-rearing.

“Mr. Dalton, I am actually most curious about the youngest. The one born a year ago. He must be utterly adorable, mustn't he?”

“Ah, that one. Well, he is cute. If not at that age, when would he be?”

At his blunt reply, Miss Pendleton burst into laughter once more.

“Mr. Dalton, you speak as if you dislike your youngest nephew.”

“He is a dear and precious child. The little treasure of the Fairfax family. But when I think of the toll he took on his mother, I confess I cannot feel entirely pleased.”

“Your sister's health must have suffered greatly from the birth?”

“She is improving. She has always been a placid person, not one to worry. But she still says she feels cold whenever she is away from the fire. That her whole body is chilled, no matter how warm the weather. I hope this last one will be my final nephew. If she were to give birth again, I am certain my sister would not survive it.”

Miss Pendleton could perceive a mixture of worry and displeasure in Mr. Dalton's tone and expression as he spoke. It was the sincere concern of a brother for his sister.

Miss Pendleton was moved by his attitude. It was a natural affection one feels for a gentleman so devoted to his family. She gazed tenderly at the shadow that had fallen over his handsome face.

“When I leave London, I would like to give a gift for your youngest nephew. To bring some joy to your ailing sister.”

“I would not wish to trouble you, Miss Pendleton. Dunville Park is already well-supplied with material goods.”

“It is not a material good I wish to give, but a sentiment. It will be no trouble at all. I am only thinking of a small picture book. Perhaps with a small inscription on the flyleaf. Surely you would accept something like that?”

Miss Pendleton asked again. Mr. Dalton gazed steadily into her grey eyes for a moment before a faint smile touched his lips, and he nodded.

“Very well. Ah, but I realize I do not know your youngest nephew's name. I must know his name to write it for the recipient. What is your nephew's name?”

Mr. Dalton paused for a moment at the question before speaking.

“Ian, Fairfax.”

Miss Pendleton's eyes widened.

“Ian?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Dalton answered curtly, trying to hide his embarrassment. Miss Pendleton suppressed a laugh as she spoke.

“I shall have to find a gift that little Ian will truly love.”

***

The weather was often inclement, and there were many days when the two of them sat facing each other by the fire, talking. They talked, and talked, and talked some more. And as she came to understand the measure of his character, Miss Pendleton, far from being disappointed, found her estimation of him only grew.

Mr. Dalton had an interesting way of speaking, grumbling about the things he liked just as much as the things he disliked. He was not the type to be blinded by love to a fault, so even the objects of his affection were not free from the blade of his criticism.

But his affection was strong and gentle. And the subjects of that affection were limited to his land, its farmers, and his own kin. Considering his worldview was by no means narrow, the scope of his affection was truly confined.

Miss Pendleton thought that such a character was perfectly suited for marriage. A nature that did not squander affection outwardly, but poured it deeply into the person by his side. Was that not the very virtue of a good husband?

However, she had no intention of revealing her thoughts. It was a pity that he was so engrossed in his friendship with an old maid like herself, who had missed her chance at marriage, while neglecting a married life that would surely bring him happiness, but it was not her place to say anything.

She decided to simply wish in her heart that Mr. Dalton would find a suitable match when he himself desired to find love.

Then, one day, Miss Pendleton, who had been sitting in the drawing room arranging flowers, paused her hand, which was trimming the stem of a daffodil, at the sound of the door opening.

The butler announced a visitor. It was Mr. Dalton.

She set down the daffodil and scissors she was holding and rose from her seat. She curtsied to him as he entered the drawing room. He removed his hat and bowed politely.

He smiled, looking at the flowers on the table.

“I see you were keeping company with flowers.”

“Yes. My friends today are a dozen roses and daffodils. Shall I introduce you?”

“I would welcome any friend of Miss Pendleton's, but it seems the ladies are not yet ready to receive guests. Perhaps we can postpone the pleasantries and you will join me for a walk today? The weather is exceptionally fine, for a change.”

“I would like that, Mr. Dalton. Please wait just a moment.”

Miss Pendleton instructed a servant to put the flowers in water and went up to her room with her maid, Anne. She checked her hair and selected her gloves and coat.

Anne fastened the buttons on Miss Pendleton's green spring coat.

“That gentleman, he visits ever so often.”

“It is the most suitable place to socialize quietly.”

Anne glanced at Miss Pendleton, who had replied so casually, before fetching an ornate, veiled hat from the drawer.

“Try wearing this one today.”

“Hm? It's too extravagant. We are not going on a picnic.”

“But this one accentuates your neckline the best when you wear it, miss.”

“If I wear that with my day dress, people's eyes will be drawn to the hat instead of my neck. Please bring me the one with the purple ribbon.”

Anne quietly placed the hat in her hands back in the wardrobe. She then took out the plainest, most practical hat, as her mistress had instructed.

Miss Pendleton took it and placed it on her head. Anne tied the ribbon under her chin and said.

“Miss, even so, it's not as if the Pendleton house is the only place that gentleman can meet people, is it? There must be another reason.”

Pulling on her calfskin gloves, Miss Pendleton replied nonchalantly.

“Is that so?”

“As I see it, the reasons can be narrowed down to two.”

“And what are they?”

“One, the cook of this house is so excellent that he means to scout him for his own estate.”

“Hmm, that has some credibility. Mr. Germain is skilled with poultry. And his desserts are practically divine.”

“Two, he is in love with someone he can only meet in this house!”

Miss Pendleton tilted her head.

“Well, it's not a bad deduction, but...”

“No, I am certain of it. And I know who it is.”

“Oh? And who do you think it is, Anne?”

“Who else could it be but you, miss!”

Miss Pendleton lifted her gaze from her gloves to look at Anne. Her bright eyes were filled with a powerful wish.

Miss Pendleton let out a small laugh. So that was why she had tried to make her wear the fancy hat.

“A fine fantasy, but I'll place my bet on Mr. Germain. That's more believable than anything else.”

“Oh, why?”

“Because, Mr. Dalton has never shown any more sign of affection for me than he has for Mr. Germain's cold meats and pound cake. Anne, is there truly any gentleman who could have the woman he loves before his eyes for over a fortnight and not once cast a single ardent glance her way?”

“Ah, but that's...!”

“Silly Anne. Foolish Anne. You pretend to be an expert in romance, but you know nothing.”

Miss Pendleton cheerfully teased Anne as she checked her appearance.

“Miss, but...”

“In any case, hearing you say that makes me think we should certainly raise Mr. Germain's wages. If we were to lose him, Grandmother would surely lose her joy in life. And I have become quite addicted to his puddings myself. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I shall have to discuss it with Mr. Germain later. Now then.”

With that, Miss Pendleton left the room.

Anne tidied the lace shawl Miss Pendleton had left behind, murmuring the words she hadn't managed to say.

“It's because you don't see the way Mr. Dalton looks at you when you turn away, miss. You foolish girl. You only know how to help others, but you're a dunce when it comes to your own heart.”