Chapter 41

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: A Third-Rate Play (2)
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Miss Pendleton knocked, her heart pounding. Silence. She entered her grandmother's room.

The scene that unfolded within startled Miss Pendleton for a moment. Uncle Gerald was crouched by the bed where his mother lay. He was clutching Lady Abigail's hand, his face buried in it.

A faint sobbing could be heard. Miss Pendleton stood frozen in bewilderment, then suddenly became aware of Charles standing off to one side. Her cousin, standing there like a decorative screen, his face a clear mask of boredom. For now, she followed her cousin's lead and moved to a corner of the room.

Soon, Uncle Gerald made a sound between sobs. Miss Pendleton strained to listen.

"Mother… Please, forgive me… Forgive this worthless son…"

Miss Pendleton watched in astonishment. A moment later, her grandmother placed her own hand over her son's and patted it gently.

"It's all right. Everything is all right…"

The uncle's sobs and the grandmother's comfort continued for some time. A strange feeling came over Miss Pendleton. The only way she had ever seen the two of them was arguing and trading barbs. She had never seen them hold hands like this, nor could she have ever imagined it.

Soon, her uncle gestured to his son, who was standing to the side. At that, Charles wiped the indifferent look from his face, contorted it into an expression of utmost sorrow, and approached them.

"Grandmother, it's me, Charles. Your grandson. I was told you gave me my name when I was in the cradle."

At Charles's tearful voice, her grandmother managed a weak nod.

"My dear grandson. Let me see your face."

Charles brought his face close to hers.

"You've grown so well. Truly, so well."

In an instant, Charles burst into tears with a loud sob and threw himself into his grandmother's arms.

Miss Pendleton stood apart, merely watching the scene unfold.

It was a touching family reunion. Miss Pendleton knew she ought to feel relieved by this situation. If one could ignore the duplicitous Charles, wasn't it a perfect scene of reconciliation? For the two of them to reconcile so smoothly was nothing short of a miracle.

But Miss Pendleton's intuition troubled her. Nothing about it felt natural. She felt as though she were watching a clumsy melodrama performed by amateur actors.

"Laura, are you there?"

Her grandmother soon called for her. Miss Pendleton approached the bedside where her grandmother lay.

"Gerald, dear. Please, take our granddaughter's hand. She has cared for me so faithfully all this time."

Uncle Gerald looked at his niece, his face stained with tears. He then awkwardly took her hand.

"Yes, you've worked hard."

He gave his niece's hand a slight shake. Miss Pendleton still remembered the look of contempt he had given her earlier. But she smiled.

"Not at all, Uncle. I'm so glad you could come all this way."

Miss Pendleton said sweetly, suppressing the urge to snatch her hand away from her uncle's grasp.

For a while, they stood gathered around the grandmother's bed. Miss Pendleton became a part of this sham melodrama. Her role was that of the good granddaughter, delighted by the mother-son reunion that had been over a decade in the making. She performed her part faithfully.

In truth, it mattered little to her whether this situation was a fake play or not. The only thing that mattered was that her grandmother achieve all her desires before her life's end and pass away in peace.

She focused on that singular goal. Her uncle's contempt was a small price to pay for her grandmother's happiness.

***

That evening, the dinner at the Pendleton estate was the picture of a perfect family gathering. There was Lady Abigail, who had made the difficult trip downstairs for her son; Gerald and his son, Charles; Miss Pendleton; and in addition, their guest, Miss Jensen, and Mr. Price, who had not crossed the Pendleton threshold in a long time.

They enjoyed a warm and pleasant time, savoring a multi-course meal prepared by Mr. Germain, the Pendleton's celebrated private chef. By all accounts, it was a heartwarming occasion.

While the energetic godfather and goddaughter enlivened the atmosphere, Gerald Pendleton demonstrated his filial devotion to his mother.

He constantly whispered to his mother, personally carving the barbecue and placing it on her plate first. Not to be outdone, Lady Abigail affectionately chided her son for requesting a third glass of sherry, telling him not to drink too much.

Mr. Price, seeing the mother and son together for the first time, praised their relationship to the heavens. He declared that there could be no mother and son more affectionate than they. Miss Pendleton, who had been eating in silence, had to struggle to swallow a bitter smile.

Lady Abigail was curious about how her grandson Charles had lived during her absence. Charles began to boastfully recount the life he had diligently carved out for himself as a second son.

Following his father's wishes, he had followed the elite path of attending Eton College and Oxford. After studying law at university, he took a position at a law firm.

However, he found the law to be rigid and materialistic, and office life to be stifling. He soon lost interest in the law. Eventually, he left that path and, after a period of 'career exploration,' was now studying to become a clergyman.

He said that as soon as he was ordained, he was scheduled to be appointed as the clergyman at the church on the Pendleton estate, with a benefice. Although it was a path destined for poverty, he declared he would endure it with a firm heart.

Gerald was immensely proud of such a son. Lady Abigail, who had been listening to Charles, offered words of blessing, saying he would make a fine clergyman.

Listening, Miss Pendleton could only eat in silence, hoping that the way Charles had leered at the young maid earlier was a singular mistake in his lifetime.

As the night deepened, Mr. Price and Miss Jensen departed in their carriage. Charles and Gerald Pendleton insisted on personally escorting Lady Abigail to her bedroom, and she leaned on her son for support. They slowly disappeared upstairs.

Miss Pendleton remained on the first floor to give instructions for cleaning up. But then, another perfectly strange event occurred, befitting such a strange day.

Knock, knock, knock.

Miss Pendleton was instructing the servants in the dining room on what to do with the leftover food when she heard a knock at the main entrance. Soon, she heard a maid go to the door, and then, someone strode into the dining room. It was Mr. Price.

Miss Pendleton turned pale as she looked at Mr. Price. He removed his hat and bowed his head slightly.

"My apologies. I forgot that I left my gloves behind."

Miss Pendleton quickly looked around. A pair of gloves lay on the chair where Mr. Price had been sitting. They lay so neatly that 'intentionally left behind' seemed a more fitting description than 'forgotten.' Miss Pendleton quickly retrieved them for him.

"Miss Pendleton."

He began, sweating.

"I wish to ask a favor concerning our Joan."

"Pardon?"

"Please, open the way for her into London society. In truth, that is why I have come."

"…That shouldn't be difficult. But my connections are rather modest, and besides, I'm not certain Miss Jensen would be interested in English society."

Mr. Price shook his head.

"That is, in fact, the very reason she came to London. You will come to know her as you spend time with her, Miss Pendleton. She is not wicked by nature, but she is ambitious. The blood of a conqueror flows in her veins. For the past three years, Joan conquered American society and reigned as its queen. Her next territory is London society. I imagine that, starting with London, she will attempt to grasp all the social circles of Europe in her hand."

"Miss Jensen sounds like a most spirited young lady."

"You always put such a positive spin on things. A woman like you, Miss Pendleton, is the very model of an English lady. Indeed, you are the only one who can help Joan adapt to London society. I implore you."

"As Miss Jensen is Charles's fiancée, I will certainly do my best for her. Please, do not worry."

"I know. I know of your integrity, Miss Pendleton. You are a good and conscientious woman. I can trust you. Of course, I can."

Mr. Price mumbled. A cold sweat trickled down Miss Pendleton's back. She wished he would leave before any other family members saw him. But as if to crush that hope, he took a step closer to Miss Pendleton. And to her horror, he once again began to bend one knee.

Horrified, Miss Pendleton quickly grabbed Mr. Price to stop him.

"Mr. Price, please. Please, stop."

"B-but, Miss Pendleton!"

"I said stop! If you propose to me again, I shall never attend dinner again. Even if it means neglecting my duty to my uncle and Miss Jensen!"

Mr. Price awkwardly straightened his bent leg. He gazed at Miss Pendleton's appalled expression for a moment, then sighed.

"If only you would tell me plainly where I am lacking, I would eagerly strive to meet your standards. But ladies never reveal such things directly. I know it is a woman's way to get what she wants by playing a game of twenty questions with her suitor. However, would it not be acceptable to give me at least a small hint?"

Miss Pendleton's bewilderment at the old gentleman's words gave way to genuine curiosity. She had never, by any hint or suggestion, given him cause for false hope. Yet he was acting as if she had led him on only to cast him aside.

Miss Pendleton opened her mouth to convey her feelings to him once more, in no uncertain terms. But before any words could escape her lips, he put on the hat he was holding and bowed his head.

"Please do not forget that I am always waiting with bated breath for your decision, Miss Pendleton. With a single word from you, I am your man."

With those words, he immediately turned and hurried outside. Miss Pendleton watched his departure from the dining room window. He hastily climbed into the waiting carriage.

Through the carriage window, she could see Miss Joan Jensen clutching her stomach with laughter. The carriage departed, the last sight being Mr. Price dabbing the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

Miss Pendleton's shoulders slumped. His declaration of love, unfortunately, was merely the perfectly bewildering end to a bewildering day.

She sighed and went up to her room. But there, on the landing between the first and second floors, she came face to face with the very last person she wanted to see: her uncle, Gerald Pendleton.

Gerald Pendleton was wearing a frock coat and holding a cane and hat, as if he were about to go out. Miss Pendleton gave a slight nod and tried to pass him. But her uncle stopped her. Miss Pendleton turned around. Her uncle stared at her.

"You played the hostess quite skillfully today, Laura Pendleton."

Miss Pendleton said nothing. Judging by his tone, his expression, and their history, it was not a compliment. An accusation, perhaps, but not a compliment.