Chapter 2

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Miss Laura Pendleton (1)
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Edward’s gaze swept across the reception hall.

Finding Miss Pendleton among the countless wives and ladies was no easy task. Especially for Edward, a seaman unaccustomed to the splendid attire of women. But for the sake of his anxious wife at his side, he had to find her.

He tried to recall Miss Pendleton’s usual features. Her auburn hair, neatly secured in a hairnet. Skin as fair as his wife’s, and a modest, tidy dress.

The pearl pendant necklace she always, invariably, wore. Her habit of always being in a corner, either conversing with a friend or quietly observing the crowd.

He carefully scanned the less conspicuous spots in the hall, and soon, Miss Pendleton came into view. As expected, her hair was styled neatly in its usual hairnet, and she wore a simple silk dress with few adornments. She was engaged in a serious conversation with a young lady dressed as modestly as herself.

Edward quickly led Elizabeth over to their table.

Noticing the couple approaching, the two ladies abruptly stopped their conversation and rose from their seats. They curtsied in greeting. A few formal pleasantries and well-wishes were exchanged.

However, as soon as the lady beside Miss Pendleton tactfully excused herself to get some food from the buffet, Elizabeth cast aside all formality and threw her arms around her.

“Laura, why weren't you in the dressing room! You promised you'd check on my dress!”

Miss Pendleton gently stroked Elizabeth’s hair.

“I'm sorry. Grandmother's dizziness grew worse, so I had to stay by her side all morning.”

Elizabeth pulled back from the embrace and looked at Miss Pendleton with a worried expression.

“Is she very unwell?”

“No, it's nothing serious. She just needs to rest. The physician told her to, which made her quite cross. She kept complaining about why it had to happen on our Beth’s wedding day.”

“Oh, dear. Should I stop by for a moment before we leave today?”

“No, don't. Absolutely not. She'll be even more upset if your schedule is delayed because of her. And all that irritation will be taken out on the poor physician.”

“Hmm, I suppose I must restrain myself for Doctor Webster's sake, then. Alright, please give her my regards. And tell her I'll write as soon as I arrive in Italy. Oh, I must buy Grandmother a gift. Laura, what sort of present do you think she would like?”

“You know what Grandmother always wants. The latest sheet music and novels from Italy.”

“Perfect. And for you?”

“Stories of your time in Italy and a single hairpin.”

Elizabeth shook her head as if she had known that would be the answer.

“No, no, there's something you *need*. A lace shawl as white as snow. The most expensive and ornate one in all of Italy.”

Miss Pendleton chuckled softly.

“What's this? My answer was already decided for me?”

“Of course.”

Miss Pendleton gazed warmly at Elizabeth with her dark gray eyes.

“You'll have a mountain of gifts to buy for everyone else. Don't add to your luggage unnecessarily.”

“Nonsense. I could forget everyone else's gift, but never yours. If it weren't for you, Edward and I wouldn't even be going on a honeymoon. Isn't that right, Edward?”

As Elizabeth turned her head to seek his agreement, Edward nodded with as much affirmation as his usually impassive expression would allow.

“That's right, Beth. We may forget the others, but we must bring a gift for Miss Pendleton.”

“See, Laura? My husband says so, too.”

Miss Pendleton smiled, looking troubled.

“In that case, Beth, just a small hairpin will do.”

“No. The shawl you always wear is yellowish and doesn't suit your complexion at all. If you keep refusing, I'll bribe one of your servants and have them sew it right onto your favorite green tartan dress!”

Miss Pendleton burst out laughing. Her usually pale cheeks flushed a rosy pink. She looked at Elizabeth with eyes full of affection before pressing a kiss to her smooth, clear forehead.

“Alright, Beth. I will accept it gladly.”

Elizabeth returned the kiss to Miss Pendleton. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around her waist and briefly buried her face in her neck. Elizabeth felt a sense of comfort, as if she were a child again, burying her face in her late mother's lap.

Soon, Mrs. Morton pulled away from her friend's embrace and stood beside her husband, telling Miss Pendleton of her future plans. From her immediate itinerary of where and how they would spend their time in Italy during their honeymoon, to long-term life plans of how many children they would have and how they would raise them.

Miss Pendleton, as always, listened intently, her sharp, gray eyes focused on the speaker, offering words of warm encouragement. Several minutes passed, and conscious that it was improper to linger at one table for too long, the couple bid Miss Pendleton farewell with a hug and a handshake, respectively, and took their leave.

Miss Pendleton watched for a long time as Mr. and Mrs. Morton departed, arm in arm. A sense of pride bloomed fully in her chest. Just as it had when she saw Elizabeth walking down the wedding aisle on Viscount Deyer's arm.

How could she not feel proud? It had already been twelve years since she first met Beth. Twelve years ago, when she had just left boarding school and visited Viscount Deyer's home with her grandmother, Beth had been only seven years old.

Beth had taken her, a stranger, to the playroom, introduced her to all of her dolls, and served her sugar tea she had made herself.

Ever since, Beth and Miss Pendleton had been friends. Like sisters, closer than friends. To think that child had now grown up, met a fine husband, and changed her name. She was filled with a fresh wave of emotion, and strangely, a touch of sadness.

Feeling as though she might cry, she shook her head and sat down. She then took a few sips of the coffee beside her. It was cold and utterly devoid of flavor. Just then, the lady who had excused herself earlier, Miss Jane Hyde, returned to the table with a cup of hot coffee and a plate of cake.

Miss Pendleton noticed an unfamiliar stain on Miss Hyde's skirt that hadn't been there before and intuited that she had spilled something while eating again, but she said nothing.

Miss Hyde replaced Miss Pendleton's cold coffee with the hot one and placed the cake between them. Miss Hyde wore the same troubled expression she'd had during their earlier conversation.

Miss Pendleton sighed inwardly and resumed their interrupted conversation.

“So, you believe Mr. Fairfax will propose sometime this week?”

“Yes.”

Miss Hyde nodded, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“He'll likely visit the day after tomorrow. He'll kneel in our drawing room, take my hand, and say it outright. Ask me to marry him. He's not one to beat around the bush. What a predicament. To think that he was fond of me. Who could have ever imagined….”

Miss Pendleton refrained from pointing out that everyone in London who knew the two of them had imagined just that.

“I imagine it must be quite bewildering for you, Miss Hyde. A proposal, after all, is something the gentleman considers and prepares for at length, but for the lady, it can feel as sudden as an accident. It is fortunate, I suppose, that Mr. Fairfax gave you some warning by letter. But Miss Hyde, it seems to me that you are distressed for reasons beyond mere surprise. May I ask what the trouble is?”

Miss Hyde bit her lip and looked at Miss Pendleton.

“I… I don't know what I should do.”

“You don't know?”

Miss Hyde picked up her fork and stabbed at the cake.

“Mr. Fairfax is a wonderful man. He listens to whatever I say, shows interest, and never frowns even when I make some foolish mistake. The other day, when I fell off my horse and appeared covered head to toe in mud, Mr. Fairfax didn't bat an eye and treated me like a duchess.”

“That's right. He is a very good man. And?”

“But…”

Miss Hyde's light brown eyes darted about, as if she were desperately searching for the right words. But in the end, she said nothing, merely chewing her lip and mashing the innocent cake.

Miss Pendleton couldn't help but feel puzzled by Miss Hyde's behavior.

Mr. Fairfax was an excellent suitor. He was the second son of a landed gentry family of good standing, a self-made businessman in the trade industry, tall and handsome, and he possessed his own land and country house.

For an unmarried young lady in London to be so tormented by the courtship of a man with such fine prospects as Mr. Fairfax, there could be only one possibility: she was already promised to another man. And the new suitor was a better match than the one she was promised to.

In such situations, women struggle fiercely between fidelity to their fiancé and the temptation to accept the more advantageous offer. At times, the torment was so profound it could lead one to death's door.

However, Miss Pendleton could declare with certainty that Miss Hyde was not wrestling with that kind of dilemma. It was not a matter of morality.

Miss Hyde had absolutely no interest in romance. Her interests lay solely in cricket, horse riding, and books bound in thick covers. Having known her for well over a decade, Miss Pendleton could testify before God that the objects of her passion had always remained constant.

Miss Pendleton sipped her coffee quietly, waiting for Miss Hyde to say something of her own accord. But Miss Hyde remained focused only on mashing the cake with her fork until it was a single, hideous lump.

Some unknowable thought was still turning over in her mind. She was clearly struggling to identify some feeling that was incomprehensible even to herself, yet impossible to ignore.

This was a rare sight for Miss Hyde, who was usually possessed of an excellent vocabulary and could conjure words for any occasion.

Miss Hyde soon stabbed the fork into the lump, as if planting a flag in her own territory, and muttered.

“Miss Pendleton, if I were to refuse his proposal… Mr. Fairfax would be very sad, wouldn't he?”

Miss Pendleton nearly dropped the cup she was holding.

“You intend to refuse him?”