Chapter 16

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Who is the Woman of Destiny? (2)
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Mr. Dalton simply turned and walked away. Miss Pendleton was dumbfounded but chalked it up to his odd sense of humor and went inside. She then took out the flowers she had left soaking in water earlier and began trimming them to finish her arrangement.

Yet, as she snipped with the shears, the image of Miss Lance and Mr. Dalton walking together in Hyde Park surfaced in her mind.

As the one who had introduced them, Miss Pendleton felt a responsibility to protect Miss Lance in their relationship. She began to ponder deeply about Mr. Dalton and Miss Lance.

Mr. Dalton and Miss Lance. Miss Lance and Mr. Dalton. Could they have truly fallen in love?

It wasn't entirely implausible. Miss Lance was perhaps the most beautiful maiden among London's aristocratic ladies, and Mr. Dalton was a gentleman so handsome it would be difficult to find his equal not just in London, but anywhere in England.

Miss Lance had a title to compensate for her lack of a dowry, while Mr. Dalton, though untitled, possessed a family name more distinguished than any title and a fortune built upon it. It seemed there could be no better-suited couple.

However, a nagging feeling remained unresolved. Mr. Dalton's quiet, blunt demeanor. A reserved attitude that seemed difficult to show toward someone for whom one felt affection. It was the complete opposite of how she had imagined Mr. Dalton would be if he were in love.

But perhaps that was simply his way of loving—hiding his feelings from others and only revealing his heart fully before his beloved.
The only sticking point was the possibility that Miss Lance was misinterpreting Mr. Dalton's feelings and letting her own emotions get the better of her.

While it was unlikely Miss Lance would do such a thing, Miss Pendleton was concerned about her pride. Miss Lance was superior to other ladies not only in beauty but also in intellect. She was knowledgeable and multi-talented. But being only twenty, she lacked experience, and her knowledge was limited to what she had learned from books and heard from friends.

And the biggest problem was that she did not know how much she did not know.

She was surrounded by so many admirers, all busy praising her. And Miss Lance accepted their compliments indiscriminately.

In such a situation, it was only natural to suspect that Miss Lance might have fallen for Mr. Dalton on her own. It would be a disaster if someone had encouraged her, planting a fantasy in her heart. The embarrassment she would feel upon realizing Mr. Dalton was indifferent to her would be beyond words.

Miss Pendleton paused her thoughts. She had finished trimming the flowers. For a while, she focused on arranging them in the vase.

Once all the flowers were in place, she turned the vase this way and that, examining the overall harmony. After a thoughtful "hmm," she pulled out a few daffodils and rearranged them. The overall shape improved considerably.

Miss Pendleton immediately took the vase to the drawing room and placed it on the table that guests would see first upon entering. Then she went to the kitchen to discuss wages with Monsieur Germain, who was taking a short break before starting dinner preparations.

His face lit up at the sudden offer of a raise, and he expressed his joy to her in French, bustling about and promising to make her favorite fruit pudding for dinner that evening. She thought to herself that she wouldn't have to worry about Monsieur Germain leaving for some time, then returned to her room.

As she walked, the interrupted train of thought resumed in her mind.

On the other hand, she wondered if her suspicions were underestimating Miss Lance. Just because Miss Lance was proud, what guarantee was there that she would be so foolish? In the three years she had known her, Miss Lance had never let her pride cause her to mismanage a situation.

Even when surrounded by so many admirers who lavished her with unconditional praise, as if determined to turn her into a vessel of vanity, she had acted with a certain self-awareness. Though she was susceptible to compliments about her appearance, she was not easily swayed by other opinions. It was proof that Miss Lance possessed a discerning mind.

Miss Pendleton decided to trust Miss Lance and put aside the suspicion that she was the only one in love with Mr. Dalton. Instead, she considered the case where they both had feelings for each other.

Assuming Mr. Dalton’s earlier comment that ‘matchmaking is no longer needed’ was made with Miss Lance in mind, and if their feelings were to blossom and lead to marriage… that would be a truly wonderful thing.

In that moment, a faint pang of pain bloomed in Laura's heart. But she was so preoccupied with her racing thoughts that she didn't even recognize it. She continued to think.

It would be a marriage beneficial to them both. Mr. Dalton was a demanding gentleman, but he was rational, intelligent, and had a broad view of the world. Living with him as his wife, Miss Lance would be positively influenced and could grow in many ways.

It would be a good marriage for Mr. Dalton as well. He would be starting a family with the greatest beauty among the unmarried ladies left in London. With a beautiful and talented wife, he would enjoy the bliss of a rich family life. Was that not the greatest happiness a man could dream of?

Moreover, her title and the connections within aristocratic society that came with it could be helpful to him in his future business ventures.

Miss Pendleton concluded that as long as the two loved each other, it would be a perfect marriage. She resolved to calmly observe how things unfolded and turned away from the window.

***

Before long, May arrived. The world began to sparkle dazzlingly and bloom in abundance. The social season had truly begun.

It was the time of year when the upper class, who had been lingering on their country estates or enjoying leisurely holidays at resorts, flocked to London as if drawn to a flame. In the townhouse districts of London, invitations for all sorts of parties, dinners, balls, and concerts were exchanged daily, and every night unfolded into a brilliant feast of pleasure.

But here, at Lady Abigail Pendleton’s townhouse, they remained a step removed from the revelry.

The venerable Lady Abigail Pendleton had withdrawn from society over twenty years ago and was content with the noble pastime of advising artists. Even that was diminishing as her worsening health led her into a life bordering on seclusion.

She now often declined to attend even the tea parties held within the Pendleton estate, spending more time sitting alone in her rocking chair, and sometimes, finding even that too strenuous, she would retreat to her bed. Miss Pendleton, being of a naturally introverted disposition, became even more withdrawn from society, mindful of her grandmother’s condition.

She mostly stayed by her ailing grandmother’s side, reading to her or seeing to her medicine. When her grandmother fell asleep, she would have a servant watch over her and spend her own time in the study. There, she would sit at the large oak desk, reading, writing letters, and studying.

She treasured that time dearly. It was in her nature to love quiet and peaceful moments. She loved the desk she always sat at, loved the books that filled the shelves, and loved the time she could enjoy in silence.

But lately, her study was neither peaceful nor quiet. For she now had someone to spend her afternoons with.

Two months ago, after receiving Miss Pendleton’s offer, Miss Hyde had visited the very next day. At first, Miss Hyde hesitated, wondering if she deserved such kindness, but Miss Pendleton unreservedly led her into the study.

Miss Hyde, who had never seen a study of this scale in a London townhouse, was quite surprised and slowly took in the cozy space.

The walls were lined with oak bookshelves, and a gentle fire was burning in the hearth. On one side of the study were two large desks, one with its back to the window and the other facing the fireplace, forming an L-shape. Both were large, magnificent desks.

While Miss Hyde’s eyes were captivated by the study, Miss Pendleton crouched under the desk opposite the fireplace and, with a grunt, began to pull something out.

Hearing Miss Pendleton call for help, Miss Hyde went to her side and soon realized it was a typewriter. Miss Hyde quickly approached and helped her pull out the machine. Together, they lifted it onto the desk.

Miss Hyde’s eyes widened as she looked at the typewriter. It was a perfect office model. Pitch-black, sturdy, and professional-looking.

“However did you acquire this?”

“I bought it secondhand from an office supply store. A law firm had gone out of business, I believe. You can prepare any kind of document with this.”

Miss Hyde gazed at the typewriter as if it were a curious relic.

“Did you practice on this? To become a typist?”

“Yes.”

At Miss Pendleton’s answer, Miss Hyde spoke in amazement.

“That’s incredible. I’ve never once had such a thought.”

“When the future is uncertain, you have to do something.”

“So, are you going to become a typist, Miss Pendleton?”

Miss Pendleton shook her head.

“When I turned twenty-five, I was adrift, just like you are, Miss Hyde. I believed marriage wasn't for me. If that was the case, I needed to earn a living. As I was walking down the street, wondering what I could do to support myself, I spotted a typewriter. I bought it on the spot and spent the next three months doing nothing but typing.”

Laura let out a soft sigh, as if recalling those days.

“By the time I could fill a page without a single typo, even with my eyes closed, I finally felt a sense of relief. With the help of an acquaintance, I even learned document formatting from a typist. Only when I was ready for employment at any moment could I seriously picture myself working in an office.”

Miss Pendleton frowned as the image she had once envisioned reappeared in her mind.

“Conversations with strange men, thick cigar smoke, the daily grind of paperwork. None of it suited me. So, in the end, I gave up.”

Miss Hyde tilted her head.

“It’s the opposite for me. I can’t stand the oily kindness that gentlemen bestow upon ladies. I’d rather they just smoked their cigars and gave me orders. My late father always treated me that way. I liked it, Miss Pendleton.”

“Yes, you are the opposite of me, Miss Hyde. I’m sure you’ll do well. Well enough to make a living from it.”

Miss Pendleton took Miss Hyde’s hand.

“But to do that, you must first become an expert. Now.”

Miss Pendleton placed the hand she held on the typewriter. She guided one of her fingers to press down on a key. A sharp *clack* echoed through the quiet study.

It was the first time Miss Hyde had ever touched a typewriter. She was startled by the sensation at her fingertips. The vibration seemed to tremble through her whole body. A stir of emotion rose within her. It was a little frightening, but thrilling, and her heart pounded.

“Miss Hyde, would you be interested in learning how to type from me?”