Chapter 40

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: A Third-Rate Play (1)
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But Miss Pendleton did not let her welcoming smile falter. She was like a doll, a sculpture. Like a taxidermied animal, frozen in a smile.

High society had taught her how to hide her emotional turmoil behind the mask of a smile.

As soon as Charles stepped down from the carriage, he turned back and offered his hand. A moment later, a hand covered in a beige glove emerged from within and took his. Then, a slender woman in a pearl-colored dress stepped down.

When she stood firmly on the ground, her features became clear. Deep red hair, large green eyes, and a small, slender face with a pointed chin. She was a beauty with a striking presence. Moreover, she had a glamorous figure and was nearly as tall as her fiancé.

As quickly as Miss Pendleton had recognized Charles Pendleton, she realized this must be his fiancée, Joan Jensen. It wasn't just because of the confident way she allowed Charles to escort her. Nor was it because her dress was entirely different from the English style.

It was because she thought no one else could possibly look more suited to the title of 'American heiress to a great fortune'. Her hat, her dress, her shoes, every single one of her accessories glittered.

Her expression and every gesture exuded a vibrant confidence. She was a beauty with a dazzling presence rarely seen in England.

With her arm linked through her fiancé’s, she lifted her head and scanned the exterior of the Pendleton townhouse. Then, with a subtle smile, she nodded at her fiancé.

Charles began to grin. He seemed so engrossed in his fiancée’s satisfied gaze upon the townhouse that he failed to notice the stooped, elderly gentleman getting out behind them.

With the help of a servant, the old gentleman stepped safely onto the ground and, like the couple beside him, looked up at the townhouse. Thanks to this, Miss Pendleton could see his face clearly.

A square, rugged face. His hair and eyebrows were a mix of black and white, but his cold, hard expression was the same as in his youth.

Miss Pendleton endured the violent pounding of her heart and the knot of tension tightening in her stomach, trying to focus on his stooped back and the wrinkles on his face.
To remember how long it had been since she last saw him. To remind herself how much he had aged, and in turn, how much of a mature adult she had become.

They were no longer the young head of the house tormenting his homeless niece, an unwanted dependent. Laura was a mature lady of twenty-nine, and he was an old man with frost in his eyebrows. The Pendleton townhouse was now her home, and they were the guests. Miss Pendleton tried hard to remember that.

Miss Pendleton took three steps toward them.

“Welcome, everyone.”

The gazes of the three guests fixed on Miss Pendleton at once. With a broad smile, Miss Pendleton curtsied. The servants lined up behind her followed suit in unison.

“Please forgive me for greeting you in place of the lady of the house, Lady Abigail Pendleton. I will be your hostess during your stay.”

The three of them looked at her with surprised expressions. And for good reason—Miss Pendleton’s appearance was flawless. Her coiffure, attire, demeanor, and expression were those of a graceful lady and mistress of the house.

In that fleeting moment, Miss Pendleton gauged each of their thoughts through their expressions. Charles seemed awkward at the sight of his cousin, whom he was meeting for the first time, while Miss Joan smiled, a dimple appearing on one cheek, looking pleased.

And her uncle, Gerald Pendleton, was glaring at her with a stony expression. Though over a decade had passed, Miss Pendleton could read the familiar emotion in his eyes.

Contempt.

Presently, Miss Joan Jensen unlinked her arm from Charles’s and took a step forward. She extended her hand to her.

“Hello. I’m Joan Jensen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Miss Pendleton, though inwardly surprised, took her hand without showing it. According to English etiquette, it was taboo for a lady to introduce herself to another without a proper introduction. And a handshake upon first meeting, no less. It was behavior rarely seen from a lady.

“I am Laura Pendleton.”

Miss Jensen took Miss Pendleton’s small hand and shook it.

“I know. You’re Charles’s cousin and Mr. Gerald’s niece. Thank you for the welcome, Miss Pendleton. I was very much looking forward to visiting the Pendleton house in London. From what Charles and Mr. Pendleton have told me, it’s the finest townhouse in London.”

Her voice was bright and clear.

“I cannot easily agree with that statement. As it is the home where my grandmother and I live, we must prioritize humility over pride. If you would like to visit anytime, Miss Jensen, I will give you a tour of the entire house. You can judge for yourself whether it is truly the finest townhouse.”

As Miss Pendleton spoke gently, Miss Jensen’s dimple deepened, and soon her smile turned into a peal of hearty laughter. Miss Pendleton was so startled she nearly flinched. It was truly a thunderous laugh.

But she wasn't offended. Her laughter radiated pure joy, with no trace of malice.

Soon, Miss Jensen composed her laughter and began to shake Miss Pendleton’s hand firmly.

“Thank you. I truly didn’t expect you to be so kind. I like you. Miss Pendleton, won’t you give me a cup of tea now? I’d like to see the drawing room while I’m at it.”

“Of course, Miss Jensen. Please, come in.”

Just then, Charles, who had been whispering with his father, took Miss Jensen’s arm and shook it gently.

“Miss Jensen, we should be heading to Mrs. Knighsley’s now. Your godfather, Mr. Price, must be waiting.”

“No, Charles. My godfather already knows I’ll be late.”

“Still, you must be very tired today. Wouldn’t it be better to go inside and rest?”

“Oh, Charles. You’re talking about yourself, the one who spent the whole voyage clutching a bucket. I’m not tired at all.”

“No. It’s my duty to see Mr. Price safely to England. So let’s be on our way to Mrs. Knighsley’s.”

At his continued insistence, Miss Jensen’s smile began to fade.

“You don’t need to fret so much over my godfather’s orders, Charles. Whether I’m early or late, my godfather isn't the least bit concerned.”

“But…”

“Enough, Charles! Don’t act like my godfather’s attendant.”

He flinched slightly. But he was Gerald Pendleton’s son. To recover his pride, he spoke in a high-handed, trembling voice.

“I-It’s not just because of Mr. Price’s orders to bring you quickly. I have the right to advise you on what’s best for you!”

“Who gave you that right? I don’t recall giving it to you. Did my father perhaps give it to you without my knowledge?”

“That’s not it, but… I don’t know how it is in America, but in England, an engaged woman must obey her future husband. That is the English tradition.”

“Hmm, is that so? Miss Pendleton, is that really true?”

Miss Pendleton hesitated for a moment but decided to tell the truth.

“There is no such tradition, Miss Jensen.”

“She says there isn’t, Charles. So why don’t you let go of my arm?”

Charles looked as if he wanted to say more, but he clamped his mouth shut and backed away. Miss Pendleton felt embarrassed by the blatant power imbalance between the two.

Technically, Miss Jensen’s request to enter the house upon first meeting was a breach of etiquette, and Charles, whatever his true intentions, was not entirely wrong to try and stop her.

Yet Miss Jensen had openly rebuked him in front of his cousin, whom she had just met. And Charles, rather than getting angry at her rebuke, was sweating and nervously watching her every move. What was even more surprising was the action of her uncle, who had been standing there like a scarecrow until now.

“Miss Jensen, let us be on our way now. My niece Laura will surely entertain you just as diligently on your next visit. If we tire you out on your first day in England, what would that make me in the eyes of Tom, who entrusted you to my care?”

Gerald Pendleton said with an awkward smile. His expression and voice, though slightly better than his son Charles’s, were clearly intended to appease her.

With Gerald Pendleton also intervening, Miss Jensen let go of her hand as if she had no choice. She said she would see them at dinner that evening with her godfather, Mr. Price, and then got into the carriage.

She blew a kiss to the Pendleton father and son, who were waving her off, and departed for Mrs. Knighsley’s house, where her godfather, Mr. Price, was staying.

After the carriage disappeared, the two men turned toward Miss Pendleton. As if their previous demeanor had never existed, their expressions turned sullen and arrogant.

“Are the guest rooms ready?”

“Yes, Uncle. I’ve prepared two rooms facing each other on the third floor. The servants will show you…”

Without waiting for her to finish, Gerald Pendleton stormed into the house.

The remaining Charles also headed toward the mansion after his father. But he paused for a moment behind Miss Pendleton. He looked one of the maids—the youngest, a sixteen-year-old—up and down, then whistled.

Miss Pendleton frowned at his behavior, but he just snickered and followed his father inside. She hadn't expected much from him, but Charles’s manners were even worse than his father’s.

Having fully anticipated their disregard, Miss Pendleton simply let out a sigh and went into the house. She then consulted with Mr. Germain about the special dinner to be held that evening.

With the Pendleton men visiting the London townhouse for the first time in decades, accompanied by Miss Jensen, an American visiting an aristocratic home for the first time, the most perfect dinner the Pendleton household could provide had to be prepared.

After a lengthy discussion with Mr. Germain about the degree to which the barbecue should be cooked and the types of wine to bring up from the cellar, Miss Pendleton left the kitchen.

She then found the servant assigned to attend the Pendletons and asked if they had settled into their guest rooms. But the servant told her that they hadn't gone to their rooms, but had gone straight up to pay their respects to the lady of the house.

Miss Pendleton immediately went upstairs. Her steps were twice as fast as usual.

It was the first meeting between the mother and son who were like enemies. What if their old, bitter feelings erupted into a fight? Could she protect her grandmother from her uncle? Miss Pendleton’s heart pounded ominously.