Chapter 30

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: London (1)
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He was the only person in London who officially corresponded with Mr. Dalton. If she were to associate with him frequently, it would be a simple matter to include her well-wishes in his letters.

Miss Lance resolved to cultivate a friendship with Mr. Fairfax. As her first attempt, she persuaded her parents to invite the Fairfax siblings to dinner.

Her mother was reluctant to associate with Mr. Fairfax, for although he was a self-made businessman, his country estate and manor were modest in size. However, she was persuaded by Miss Lance's argument that he was Mr. Dalton's brother-in-law and that a connection with Mr. Fairfax was necessary to secure Mr. Dalton, so she consented to the invitation.

Mr. Lance, surprisingly, agreed quite readily, as Miss Lance had cleverly informed him beforehand that the Fairfax siblings were descendants of a well-established gentry family from Yorkshire.

Soon after, the Fairfax siblings were invited to dinner at the Lance residence. The Lances found themselves enjoying the evening more than they had anticipated. The siblings were handsome, good-natured, and full of life. Moreover, they were generous with their praise and admiration, gratifying the pride of each member of the Lance family.

The Lances grew fonder of the siblings than ever before. Mr. Lance, in particular, was so taken with Mr. Fairfax that he even offered him one of his fine cigars after the meal.

Mr. Fairfax readily accepted his offer. Unlike Mr. Dalton, he had a broad tolerance for the self-congratulatory nature of the aristocracy.

Before they departed, as Mr. Fairfax kissed the back of her hand, Miss Lance asked him to convey her regards to Mr. Dalton in Whitefield.

Mr. Fairfax willingly agreed before helping his sister into the carriage. Miss Lance watched the departing carriage with a smile of satisfaction, having achieved her initial goal.

Thereafter, Miss Lance associated frequently with the Fairfax siblings. She would occasionally visit Mr. Fairfax's townhouse for tea or invite them to attend concerts or operas with her.

While her primary purpose was to keep Ian Dalton informed of her activities, Miss Lance gradually began to find genuine pleasure in their company.

Miss Janet Fairfax was a lovely young woman and an ardent admirer of Miss Lance. She marveled at Miss Lance's every action and agreed with her every opinion, which naturally pleased Miss Lance a great deal.

But Mr. Fairfax proved to be an even more worthy friend.

Until then, Miss Lance had known Mr. Fairfax only as a kind and handsome gentleman. But as she got to know him better, she realized he was more than just a good-natured man.

He was as serious as he was gentle. He listened attentively to Miss Lance and expressed his opinions with care. Every word he spoke was imbued with consideration and wisdom.

Miss Lance was a fair judge of character and quickly recognized Mr. Fairfax as a man of excellent quality. She was quite pleased to discover that Mr. Dalton's closest friend was such a fine person. Thus, she enjoyed associating not only with Miss Fairfax but with Mr. Fairfax as well.

***

While Miss Lance was forging new friendships and enjoying the pleasures of society, the London social scene ripened into a dazzling spectacle, each day seeming to surpass the last. Parties and balls were held daily, with new faces constantly flowing in and out like the tide.

Amidst this, another new figure appeared on the social scene.

Tom Price. At first, he was not particularly noticeable. He was a plain, graying man, short and stout with a potbelly and bulging eyes. But when it became known that he was an immensely successful tycoon in the stock market from America, he began to attract attention.

And before long, he became a subject of considerable interest in London society, thanks to his personal charm.

He was an Englishman, yet at the same time, very much an American. He always bet high at cards, won big, and never held a grudge after losing big.

Like a true businessman, he was always confident and stubborn, and he always looked people straight in the eye. He was also well-traveled and possessed a keen sense of humor.

Soon, details about his life began to circulate at the ladies' tea parties. He was the third son of a British Royal Navy captain who, upon graduating from university, had moved to America just after the Civil War. He had made a fortune selling lumber to the reconstructing South. With that capital, he entered the stock market and had since become one of the wealthiest men in New York.

During his rise, he had married a fallen Southern belle of great beauty and elegance, with whom he had lived happily for twenty-five years and had seven children.

The first and second were already adults, one married and the other having established his own business. The remaining five, ranging in age from thirteen to seven, were currently being raised in America by a nanny and a governess.

He was now in his homeland for the first time in over thirty years to attend his sister's silver wedding anniversary and was staying in London for an extended period to spend time with his long-unseen family.

Once his story became known, people began to whisper that Mr. Price's frequent appearances in London society might be for the purpose of finding a second wife. Otherwise, there seemed little reason for him to frequent such circles so often.

Perhaps, unable to forget his late, elegant wife, he was seeking another lady to fill the void by his side.

It was a sufficiently intriguing topic, and whenever conversation lulled at tea parties, Mr. Price's story was brought up. The guests at the Pendleton tea parties were no exception.

Miss Pendleton, however, felt little interest. The sources of his popularity—his wealth and his boisterous personality—were not things that could capture her attention. They were so alien to her that they inspired not curiosity but a sense of caution.

But a short while later, an event occurred that forced Miss Pendleton to take an interest in him. It began with a letter.

***

Miss Pendleton was seated in the study as usual, sorting through the mail a servant had brought from the post office. Invitations to events, household notices, and her personal letters went to the left; letters to her grandmother from friends and relatives went to the right.

Having done this for the past twelve years, Miss Pendleton worked like a machine.

As she placed an ornate invitation to a picnic on the left pile, Miss Pendleton saw the sender's name on the white envelope beneath it and froze. She looked at the name again. The script before her eyes was unmistakably clear.

Gerald. Pendleton.

'Uncle...'

A shiver ran down Miss Pendleton's spine. She quickly checked the recipient's name.

Laura Pendleton. Her own name was written there. Her uncle had sent it to her.

Had it been addressed to her grandmother, she would not have been so dismayed. The chill that had run down her spine now spread to her shoulders and arms. She shuddered involuntarily.

Miss Pendleton set it down in front of her, neither to the left nor the right, and finished sorting the remaining letters. Then, she checked for any urgent receipts or letters that required an immediate reply.

Fortunately, there were none. She pushed the other letters aside, took her uncle's letter from its envelope, and unfolded it.

Even as she unfolded it, the situation felt unreal. Her uncle, who had never sent so much as a postcard for Christmas or her birthday, had suddenly written a letter. Miss Pendleton steeled herself for news of a death in the family as she opened the envelope.

The letter began bluntly, without any proper salutation. It was an approach devoid of courtesy or warmth. But as Miss Pendleton expected no affection from her uncle, she was rather relieved to get straight to his intentions.

In the letter, her uncle surprisingly mentioned Mr. Price. He was, it turned out, her uncle's old university classmate.

Six months ago, her uncle and his second son, Charles, had visited America and chanced upon Mr. Price. Mr. Price had introduced them to his goddaughter, Joan Jensen, an heiress to a New York fortune. Soon, love had blossomed between Charles Pendleton and Joan Jensen, and they had become engaged.

After the engagement ceremony in America, Mr. Price had come to London first for the silver anniversary. The gist of the letter was that her uncle and the young couple would be departing later, and until their arrival, she was to invite Mr. Price as a guest and treat him properly.

At the end of the letter, in a cold and imperious tone, he commanded her to ensure that preparations were made without fail for him and Charles to stay at the townhouse.

After reading the letter to the end, Miss Pendleton pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. She felt as if the neural pathways in her brain had been tangled and pulled about by a six-year-old child. A myriad of complex memories and anxious premonitions tormented her.

Her uncle would soon be coming to the Pendleton townhouse. She had been ten when she left the Pendleton estate for boarding school, making this a reunion after nearly twenty years. But no matter how much time had passed, her memories of her uncle were not easily forgotten.

She gasped for breath, feeling as if someone were pressing down hard on her solar plexus. Though she was now an adult, the mere thought of her uncle made her feel like a frightened seven-year-old, hiding in the nursery and waiting for his footsteps to fade away.

But this feeling was something she could endure. While not the same as his abuse, she had been the subject of incessant ostracism and gossip for the past twenty years. She was accustomed to maintaining her dignity and carrying out her duties even under stress.

No matter how much she feared her uncle, if she performed her role well, he would surely see that she was now a grown woman. Then, though he might be cold and severe, the past would certainly not repeat itself.

In truth, what troubled her most was something else entirely. Her uncle's visit meant a reunion between him and her grandmother. It was uncertain whether her grandmother would even allow him into the house, but if they did meet, she could not fathom what would happen.

The two had not exchanged a single letter in over ten years, since their messy legal battle. Their resentment for each other would have festered, unchanged. What on earth would happen if they saw each other now? Her grandmother was now an old woman who found even sitting up to be a strain.

'What if they get into a fight and Grandmother's condition worsens?'

At that thought, Miss Pendleton's heart pounded with anxiety. Her fingers grew as cold as ice. She recalled what Dr. Webster had said during his last house call.

'She will be fortunate to see the new year. She needs absolute rest, and you must not allow anything to upset her. See that her mind is at ease. And it is important to continue giving her hope. Tell her often that she will live a long life, just as I do every time I visit.'