Chapter 45

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Jealousy (2)
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Miss Pendleton stared at him in astonishment.

“You must know that my personality is peculiar and blunt. However, I now wish to appear as a good marriage prospect to the ladies. Therefore, Miss Pendleton, please help me get married. Help me appear attractive to the ladies. So that I might marry a lady within the year.”

Miss Pendleton was at a loss for words. Mr. Dalton was asking her to help him find a wife. Was he deceiving her? Or…

‘Did I truly misread his heart in the woods that day?’

Miss Pendleton felt terribly mortified. To think that all her efforts to push him away, born from the rock-solid belief that he liked her, had stemmed from a complete misunderstanding. Moreover, he must have surely noticed her delusion. There was no embarrassment quite like it.
But her emotions quickly found their balance. She knew from experience that the best way to preserve her dignity was to quickly compose herself and act with poise.

“I am glad to hear you’ve had a positive change of heart about marriage, Mr. Dalton. I will do my best to help in any way I can.”

Only then did Mr. Dalton smile.

“Thank you, Miss Pendleton.”

“Mr. Fairfax once made the same request of me. I accepted then and received his thanks, so you owe me no debt of gratitude, Mr. Dalton. I am pleased that I can now fulfill my promise to Mr. Fairfax as well.”

Miss Pendleton concealed her turbulent heart with an iron-clad grace. Mr. Dalton spoke with an air of sincerity.

“In your opinion, Miss Pendleton, do you think it possible for me to return to Whitefield with a Mrs. Dalton by the end of the year?”

“Of course. You could capture the heart of any lady you wish. Hmm, why not try to find a prospective wife at Miss Lance’s ball? Or is there already a lady you have in mind?”

“Well, I do have one lady in mind, but I am still in the process of approaching her, so I lack confidence.”

Miss Pendleton guessed the lady he had in mind was Miss Lance, but she did not let it show.

“This ball will be a good opportunity. You should ask that lady for a dance. Ah, do you remember the waltz steps I taught you last time?”

“I remember them, but my waltzing skills have not improved one bit since your tutelage, Miss Pendleton.”

Miss Pendleton laughed.

“To fall in love in society, you must know how to dance, Mr. Dalton.”

“I have never given dancing much serious thought.”

“Now that you have resolved to be serious about love, it is time to be serious about dancing. There is nothing better than a dance to mark the beginning of love.”

“Why is that?”

“To dance with someone means sharing the most intimate of moments with them. Focusing on each other, matching step by step. Perhaps it is something akin to marriage.”

Mr. Dalton was silent for a moment. The memory of dancing while gazing into a certain lady’s gray eyes flashed through his mind.

“You must teach me the waltz and other dances sometime. If you were to teach me, Miss Pendleton, I believe I would not tire of learning.”

Miss Pendleton observed Mr. Dalton carefully. His passionless expression held nothing but a gentle kindness.

Ah, an expression of friendship. Her heart, which had nearly sunk, steadied itself.

“Of course. Ask me anytime. The first gentleman on my dance card is you, Mr. Dalton. For you are my best friend.”

Mr. Dalton watched Miss Pendleton intently, as if to say something, but then closed his mouth. After a moment’s thought, he extended his hand to her.
Miss Pendleton looked at the hand offered to her before lightly placing her own upon it.

“You are also my dearest friend, Miss Pendleton.”

He spoke thus and pressed a firm kiss to the back of her gloved hand.

The two then linked arms again and returned to their seats. At the finish line, the exhausted university representatives, on the verge of collapse, were slowly rowing toward the shore.

“Mr. Dalton! Where have you been? Cambridge has won!”

Miss Lance cried out as soon as he arrived. Mr. Dalton naturally sat down beside her again. Miss Pendleton watched the two of them sitting side by side. Miss Lance, clapping with flushed cheeks. Mr. Dalton, watching her with a smile.

Yes, Mr. Dalton and Miss Lance. A well-suited pair. He would now be able to start a new life with a partner right for him. The perfect happy ending for the two people I introduced.

Miss Pendleton tried to summon a feeling of joy as she thought this, all the while suppressing the inexplicable pain that welled within her, again and again.

* * *

Upon returning home, Miss Pendleton immediately changed her clothes and headed for her grandmother’s room.

When she entered, there was no one beside her grandmother except for the maid who usually attended her room. Her uncle seemed to be out for a while. Miss Pendleton felt relieved and took over for the maid. For the past few days, her uncle had been constantly by her grandmother’s side, and she had often been turned away at the door.

Miss Pendleton sat beside her sleeping grandmother and listened to the sound of her breathing. Every exhale was mixed with a pained groan. Even the simple act of lying down to sleep seemed to be a struggle.

Miss Pendleton lowered her eyelids, a deep sorrow settling in her stomach. She gently brushed back the hair from her grandmother’s forehead.

Soon, her grandmother’s eyelids fluttered open.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

Miss Pendleton smiled. As she always did when her granddaughter returned from a social event, her grandmother asked.

“How was the boat race today?”

Miss Pendleton skillfully painted a picture of the society folk before her grandmother’s eyes—what people wore, who among the new faces had appeared, and the recent affairs of people her grandmother knew.

Miss Pendleton vividly described which university had attracted the most wagers and which people had tasted the bitterness of defeat. That, after all, was the sort of tale that would make her grandmother laugh.

But as she listened to her granddaughter’s story, Lady Abigail did not smile. She merely gazed at her granddaughter’s face. Miss Pendleton saw only contemplation and worry in her grandmother’s expression. Her story trailed off.

“Are you finding it very difficult?”

Miss Pendleton unconsciously stroked her own cheek. Her reflection in the mirror lately had been noticeably gaunt and pale. But Miss Pendleton was accustomed to lying. She shook her head.

“You are always like this. You never show you are struggling, even when you are, and you always bottle up your pain. If you only act that way, no one will ever know what is in your heart.”

“That is precisely why I do not show it,” Miss Pendleton said with a slight smile, her tone lighthearted.

But the smile that emerged was not fresh and bright; it was the weary expression of an exhausted person.

She was, frankly, exhausted. Her interactions with Miss Hyde were not bad. But everything else was difficult. Her grandmother’s steadily worsening illness, her uncle who ignored her as if she were an insect whenever they crossed paths in the house, and Charles, who perfectly mimicked his father’s behavior.

She knew it would all end one day, but the fact that the end meant the death of a precious loved one pained her heart so much that she could not even wish for it.

“Just wait a little longer, Laura.”

“Grandmother.”

“The end is not far. I can feel it.”

Miss Pendleton looked at her grandmother steadily. No words escaped her lips. Instead, a single tear rolled down from her eye.

“Grandmother, I am holding on for you. To bring you happiness. I love you that much… Please do not speak of the end to comfort me. You know what that means. It would be like losing my parents all over again.”

Miss Pendleton covered her face with both hands and wept at the sudden flood of tears. Her grandmother simply watched her. As much as she wanted to comfort and pat her granddaughter, Lady Abigail lacked the strength.

Miss Pendleton quickly collected her tears. She had once again become the composed Laura Pendleton. Lady Abigail looked at her granddaughter with lonely eyes.

“When you were first separated from your father, you cried for days, and I could only soothe you by letting you sleep in my bed. Now you’ve become a child who cannot even cry when she ought to… Yes, you have become the perfect lady.”

A lady. That was right. Miss Pendleton had become a perfect artificial flower of society. But what could she have done? She had killed her own emotions to survive in the social world. She had always tried to be a person in firm control of herself. That also meant that she had tried to become numb.

“Just endure a little longer, Laura. Just a little longer. I will reward you. I will surely compensate you for the last twelve years.”

Miss Pendleton’s heart sank at those words. She grew anxious, wondering if her grandmother’s illness had begun to consume her mind as well. Though her body had been ill, her grandmother had never once spoken nonsense until now. She worriedly placed a hand on her grandmother’s forehead.

Just then, the door clicked open.

“Mother, I have returned… Ah, Laura is here.”

Her uncle acknowledged her with a reluctant expression. Miss Pendleton immediately rose and gave a slight curtsy.

“Now that I am here, you may leave.”

Miss Pendleton glanced at her grandmother. Her grandmother nodded. It meant she should do as her uncle commanded. Reluctantly, Miss Pendleton went outside.

As she was about to return to her room, Miss Pendleton heard the door open behind her and turned. Her uncle had followed her out.

“I hear you went to the boat race with Miss Hyde today?”

“Yes.”

“You did not commit any rudeness toward Miss Hyde, I trust?”

Miss Pendleton nodded. Her uncle asked various things about Miss Hyde—her mood that day, her tone, her actions. And even if any gentlemen had approached her. Miss Pendleton answered him readily.

“I hear you received a proposal from Tom Price?”

Miss Pendleton’s cheeks colored. It was from shame, not shyness.

“Yes.”

“And you refused?”