Chapter 21

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Picnic (3)
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Mr. Fairfax, who was standing nearby, chimed in.

“Oh? Miss Pendleton, when Miss Hyde and I were competing, you said a lady must side with a lady, did you not?”

Miss Pendleton laughed softly.

“I’m well aware of Mr. Dalton’s athletic prowess. I suppose I can’t help but be a snob who sides with the likely winner.”

“Ah, so you were underestimating my skills all along, Miss Pendleton! You knew Miss Hyde would defeat me! Hey, Ian. Go on! Go and restore my honor!”

“Ridiculous.”

Mr. Dalton muttered and picked up a stone from the ground. Tossing and catching it as Miss Hyde had, he asked.

“First?”

“You may go first.”

Thinking it had been quite some time, Mr. Dalton leaned to one side. Then, he swung his arm and threw the stone toward the river.

*Plink, plink, plink, plink, plink.*

The sound of the stone skipping across the water’s surface continued for a while. Miss Pendleton, who had the sharpest eyesight among them, narrowed her eyes and counted.

“...Thirty-seven, thirty-eight... Wow, thirty-eight!”

Miss Pendleton clapped and exclaimed to him.

“That’s incredible! Thirty-eight is a new record! You’re not just a regional champion, Mr. Dalton, you’re a national one!”

Childishly, Mr. Dalton felt a swell of pride at Miss Pendleton’s applause.

Meanwhile, Miss Hyde stood with her hands on her hips, gazing at the water. Thirty-eight. That was three more than her own official record of thirty-five.

While she had occasionally surpassed forty during her solo practices, that was, quite literally, only *occasionally*. Such miracles rarely happened when she was skipping stones in front of others.

But with the appearance of such a formidable challenger, the competitive spirit within her began to burn fiercely. How dare a country gentleman from Yorkshire challenge her record. She absolutely could not lose. Not when the honor of a self-proclaimed national champion was at stake.

With a look of grim determination, she rolled her right shoulder and loosened her wrist. Then, unlike before, she carefully selected a stone. After picking the flattest one she could find, Miss Hyde looked at Miss Pendleton.

“Miss Pendleton. Even though you may have placed your bet on Mr. Dalton instead of me, the glory of my victory will always be yours.”

Miss Pendleton was taken aback.

“Miss Hyde, there’s no need to be so serious...”

Before Miss Pendleton could finish, Miss Hyde swiftly swung her arm and threw the stone. Miss Pendleton couldn’t help but be astonished by her spirit.

Soon, the stone skipped across the water's surface—*plink, plink, plink*.

For a moment, they were all silent, the only sound being Miss Pendleton’s voice as she counted.

Mr. Dalton, watching the water with his arms crossed, began to feel a sense of foreboding. Miss Hyde’s stone was racing across the surface as if it were a living grasshopper, showing no signs of stopping.

“Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight! Oh! Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two...”

Suppressing a gasp, Miss Pendleton continued to count. Her voice went on for some time after that. It stopped precisely at fifty-two. Not because the stone had stopped, but because it had vanished beyond the horizon.

A brief silence fell among them. Then, the two dumbfounded gentlemen and one lady began to applaud quietly. They clapped for the national stone-skipping champion, Miss Hyde, who was gazing at the horizon, basking in her victory.

When the applause died down, Mr. Dalton gracefully conceded his defeat and stepped back. Mr. Fairfax, captivated by the recent grand victory, began pleading with Miss Hyde to teach him her skills.

Miss Hyde, filled with pride, readily picked up a stone and began to impart her techniques to him. Their enthusiasm was so great that they seemed oblivious to the other two people beside them.

Mr. Dalton leaned toward Miss Pendleton and whispered.

“Those two seem busy. Shall we take a walk nearby?”

Miss Pendleton nodded.

“That sounds lovely, Mr. Dalton.”

***

Miss Pendleton followed Mr. Dalton. He walked slowly to match her pace, guiding her along the forest path he had just taken.

“By the way, are there perhaps two Miss Hydes in society at the moment?”

“No.”

“Then, that lady must be the one who refused William’s proposal.”

“That’s right.”

“And yet, they’re skipping stones together?”

Miss Pendleton smiled in understanding.

“I was strolling with Miss Hyde when we happened upon Mr. Fairfax and ended up walking along the riverbank together. During our walk, Miss Hyde secretly whispered to me that she would jump into the river if it meant she could escape. It’s a good thing Mr. Fairfax suggested skipping stones. Otherwise, Miss Hyde might have actually jumped in.”

“I would have jumped in myself. Having to take a walk with someone whose proposal you’ve refused... Still, it’s surprising that a few games can make them so comfortable with each other again.”

“It’s because they were such close friends. Their relationship suits friendship far better than romance. I sometimes wonder if Mr. Fairfax proposed to Miss Hyde because he wanted to preserve that friendship for a lifetime.”

“Unable to distinguish between friendship and love? As naive as William can be, I don’t think he’s that much of a fool.”

“I think so too. Mr. Fairfax surely knows the difference between friendship and love. However, even if he proposed with a heart closer to friendship, it wouldn’t be a foolish choice. There are many couples who build their married life on friendship.”

“Do you believe a married couple can be happy if they are bound by friendship? Viewing one’s partner as merely a friend to live with?”

“Yes, Mr. Dalton.”

Mr. Dalton shook his head.

“I cannot understand it. Such a couple. A marriage built on friendship... What’s the difference between that and a marriage between two people of the same sex? Marriage is a partnership based on affection. Affection, not friendship.”

“But affection can sometimes lead to too many quarrels. I have often seen marriages that resemble friendships, and their lives did not seem unhappy. On the contrary, their relationships were built on understanding rather than disappointment, and on caring for one another rather than making demands.”

“...”

“A husband and wife must live together for a long time, and to stay together even after their initial attraction fades, mutual trust is more important than desire. For a couple to live as lifelong soulmates, friendship might be more important than passion.”

“Do you think affection hinders mutual trust?”

“To a degree. Affection creates desire, and when that desire is not fulfilled, it can easily turn into resentment and disappointment. Friendship is an emotion that seeks harmony over extremes, so it is a much safer foundation for a married couple.”

“I thought you, Miss Pendleton, would value love above all else. After all, you’ve tried to bring so many of your friends together in good matches.”

“Oh dear. You haven’t yet realized that I’m not a very romantic person. While I have somehow found myself playing matchmaker in society, I started doing this in the first place to prevent my friends from ending up in unhappy situations. One of my friends was once so madly in love that she tried to elope with a man in the middle of the night. I told her that while love is important in marriage, love does not solve everything.”

“Ah, like the saying, ‘When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window’?”

“Yes. Love cannot survive in a home where poverty is a guest. Love is too noble an emotion to exist in a household filled with endless quarrels and a sense of lack. And it’s not just poverty; insurmountable differences in background, personality, or knowledge are also unwelcome guests that drive love away. The idea that love conquers all is beautiful, but beauty has a tendency to wilt easily in the face of reality.”

“Your words are wise, Miss Pendleton. But I must still disagree. I believe love is an emotion worth enduring quarrels for. Even unhappiness. To choose a spouse based on whether you can live with them in friendship is no different from marrying your dormitory roommate. A husband and wife who must live in the same house, eat at the same table, and even share the same bed... if they have no passion for each other, no matter how harmonious and comfortable their life may be, it would be nothing more than a lukewarm and numb existence.”

Miss Pendleton looked gently at Mr. Dalton as he spoke with such a fervent voice.

“My thoughts differ from yours, Mr. Dalton, but I have no desire to persuade you. Your view is idealistic, yet in a way, it is quite right. For a man and woman who will spend their entire lives together, love is an indispensable element. Perhaps I am the one who is overly calculating. But Mr. Dalton, no matter how much you believe in the value of love, you must admit that love as a passion has an expiration date. When you have to continue living with a person for whom you no longer feel the same passion as before, the only paths left are to become indifferent or to become friends. In the end, doesn't marriage begin with love but end in friendship?”

“Even if it fades and dulls with time, the mere fact that love once existed is reason enough to continue the bond of marriage. And I do not agree with the premise that the feeling of love has an expiration date. I'm not claiming that eternal love exists. Nothing in this world is eternal. But some loves have an expiration date so long that they may not end before death.”

Miss Pendleton did not object to Mr. Dalton’s words any further. His view on love was pure. Like someone not wishing to spoil a child’s belief in fairies, she took a step back.

“I pray that you will find such a connection, Mr. Dalton. I’m sure you will. A love like that.”

They walked on in silence for a while, treading quietly on the dirt path.

Mr. Dalton said nothing. The faint tremor in his heart had transformed into a fierce pounding as he walked with her.

He was endlessly conscious of her presence the entire time he was with her. The woman who listened patiently to his stories, sometimes agreeing, sometimes disagreeing, weaving the weft and warp of their conversation. The woman who walked silently beside him, matching his pace, sharing a peaceful silence.
These were the thoughtful and earnest qualities he had always seen in her.

The usual him would have been content just to be with her, enjoying this walk. But his heart had changed.
In his mind, the fantasy he had conjured during his solitary walk earlier was unfolding.

The fantasy of holding her, meeting her gaze, looking at her sad face, and kissing her. That fantasy was gradually drifting in an unexpected direction, toward kissing her cheek and then her neck.

He turned his gaze to her profile. As always, her hair was firmly fixed in a hairnet, save for a single strand that fell across her cheek. She was dressed in a summer outing gown that revealed her collarbones.

The only thing around her neck was the pearl pendant she always wore. Before his eyes was the nape of her white neck. Soft and supple. The kind one wanted to touch... to kiss...

He turned his head away. A sudden, heavy pressure began to build in the pit of his stomach. *Have you gone mad, Ian Dalton?* he thought to himself. *Get a hold of yourself. Why are you feeling this way toward Miss Pendleton, who is doing nothing at all?*

But the body often acts separately from the mind, and a man’s body is especially prone to do so. He was being thoroughly stimulated even by the sound of Miss Pendleton’s footsteps and the rustle of her dress.