Chapter 59

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: An Exit (1)
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The next day, Lady Abigail Pendleton passed away.

Her final moments were heart-wrenching. After telling her granddaughter everything she wanted to say, Lady Abigail lost consciousness, drifting in and out of awareness thereafter.

Her mind, like her body, was no longer her own. Yet, as soon as the lawyer and notary arrived early in the morning, she had a servant bring ammonia to force herself awake and add a new clause to her will.

While her grandmother was discussing the will with the notary and lawyer, Miss Pendleton, despite being exhausted from watching over her all night, sent swift servants to all the places her uncle might be.

No matter how strained their relationship had become, it was unthinkable for the head of the house to be absent when death could be imminent.

After the lawyer and notary left, Miss Pendleton returned to her grandmother's side. Her grandmother had lost consciousness again. She would moan in her sleep, then her eyes would flutter open, her consciousness flickering like a dying candle.

Sometimes she called for her late husband, sometimes for Dolores, and other times she murmured Gerald’s name. But the name she called most often was Laura.

Miss Pendleton sat by her grandmother's side, pressing her lips to her hand, praying and praying. She prayed to her mother in heaven, asking for a miracle, for her grandmother to rise again, to make a miraculous recovery.

But no miracle came. That afternoon, Lady Abigail Pendleton passed away. She was seventy-two years old.

After Dr. Webster confirmed the death, Miss Pendleton returned to her room in tears. She curled up and wept for a long time.

There had been times when she resented her grandmother, times she had yearned to escape. She had even thought that her grandmother, obsessed with her deceased mother, was making her life miserable by forcing her into a role she didn't fit.

But even in those moments, she had loved her grandmother. There was never a time she hadn't. The grandmother who had given her the love she never received from her own mother, who had protected her more than her own father. She had truly loved her.

But now, her grandmother was gone. She was free, just as she had subconsciously dreamed, but the love that had supported and cherished her was now gone forever.

Miss Pendleton sobbed and thrashed about for some time. But the temperament she had worked so hard to cultivate gradually dried her tears. A disposition that valued judgment over emotion.

She had things to do. She had to call the undertaker, prepare the body, arrange the funeral, and write letters to relatives announcing the death. All these were her duties.

Miss Pendleton forced herself to her feet. She sat at the desk in the corner of her room, which she used for writing letters. She took out her address book and began to search for the address of the first relative that came to mind.

Just then, a knock came at the door. A servant entered and said that Gerald Pendleton was looking for her. Her uncle, whom she had been searching for, had returned.

Miss Pendleton immediately stood, changed into mourning clothes, and went to the study.

Gerald Pendleton stood looking out the window, dressed in a gray suit. Miss Pendleton approached him.

“Uncle. You called for me?”

Gerald Pendleton said nothing.

“We need to prepare for Grandmother’s funeral. Do you have a particular undertaker or reverend in mind? Or may I proceed as I see fit?”

Gerald Pendleton turned toward his niece.

“There is nothing left for you to do.”

“What do you…”

“I’ll give you one hour. Pack your things and leave this house at once.”

Miss Pendleton flinched. She felt the hatred pouring from his eyes. It was colder and more immense than when he had crushed her hand.

“It would be wise not to come near anything related to the Pendleton family. Unless you wish to be found floating in the River Cam.”

“...I will have the eldest maidservant oversee Grandmother’s funeral arrangements. But, Uncle, surely you won’t prevent me from attending the funeral itself?”

“I believe I made myself clear, Laura Pendleton. I told you to get out of the Pendleton house forever, within the hour.”

Miss Pendleton bit her lip.

“I am her granddaughter. I have the right to attend my grandmother’s funeral.”

“Yes, I’ve had more than enough of how well you know your rights. And how you couldn’t care less if our family is on the brink of ruin, so long as you protect them.”

“…”

“Tom Price has withdrawn the funds he promised to invest in my eldest son’s business. And he’s left for America. After spewing a torrent of curses at me. It seems he was quite humiliated to be spurned by you.”

Gerald Pendleton ground his teeth. Just as she had expected, he was blaming her for Mr. Price pulling out of the business.

“You will never set foot in the Pendleton house again. I won’t even tolerate you using the Pendleton name. From now on, you will live under your father’s name. Not as Laura Pendleton, but as Laura Sheldon.”

Miss Pendleton felt a chill at his stern demeanor. He had always despised her, but this was different. He had never acted so consumed with hatred for her before.

But there was one last thing she had to do, one thing she must do.

“Uncle, I have no lingering attachment to the Pendleton name. No affection, no greed. My only wish was to repay the kindness my grandmother showed me until her death, to see the sand cover her coffin, and then to leave this place. That is all I want. So please, just allow me to attend the funeral.”

Miss Pendleton bowed her head.

“I will forfeit the five thousand pounds. I will ask to be removed from the list of heirs. It was never my money to begin with. So please, I beg you, allow me this final farewell.”

Gerald Pendleton looked down at his bowing niece.

“There is no inheritance for you anyway.”

Miss Pendleton raised her head to look at him. One corner of his mouth was lifted in a smirk.

“The lawyer and the notary both have a strong sense of duty. But not stronger than ten thousand pounds, it seems.”

“...Are you saying you’ve altered my grandmother’s will?”

“I didn’t alter it. I simply asked them to disregard the nonsense your grandmother spoke in her deathbed delirium.”

Miss Pendleton bit her lip.

“Uncle, that’s illegal. You know that. More than anything, it sullies the Pendleton family name.”

“I have no desire to be lectured by the likes of you. Now, get your body out of this house. You have already contaminated our family beyond repair.”

Despite the humiliating words, Miss Pendleton was simply dumbfounded. Her uncle, who prized his family name so highly, was resorting to actions a head of house should never commit, all to cast her out penniless. It was utterly absurd.

“You truly hate me, don't you, Uncle? To spend twenty thousand pounds just to take five thousand from me. It’s astonishing.”

“There’s nothing astonishing about it, Laura Pendleton. And let me give you a piece of advice: it’s no use running outside and screaming that you’ve been robbed of your inheritance. The will was written long ago. It’s common knowledge that Charles Pendleton is to inherit everything. Everyone will think you’ve gone mad; they won’t suspect me.”

Miss Pendleton knew all too well that he was right. She became calm. The inheritance meant nothing. It had never been hers to begin with, so she had no regrets.

“Don’t worry. Charles Pendleton will have everything. I don’t have the money to buy a lawyer, and even if I did, you would drag out the lawsuit in every way imaginable to make me give up. Just as you did in the legal battle with Grandmother.”

“You know me well.”

Miss Pendleton smiled.

“Until now, I never truly understood my mother. I only resented her. But now I understand. Why she so desperately fled the Pendleton family. Why she abandoned all wealth and glory to take the hand of my father, who had nothing. Uncle, you are a truly terrible person. I would rather sleep under a blanket of cobwebs in a leaky hut than be under your protection.”

Gerald Pendleton’s face hardened. Miss Pendleton curtsied gracefully.

“Thank you for tolerating me until now. Please see my grandmother off faithfully.”

She turned. As she opened the study door, Gerald Pendleton’s resolute voice followed her.

“You have precisely one hour. If you are still in this house when that hour is up, you will be dragged out by the very servants you once commanded.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle. For me, spending another hour under the same roof as you is a torment, let alone thirty minutes.”

Miss Pendleton closed the study door.

***

Lady Abigail Pendleton’s death brought deep sorrow not only to her family but also to the servants who had been her hands and feet.

Though she lacked a gentle nature or thoughtful consideration, the death of the warm-hearted and witty noblewoman was enough to grieve the servants who had grown fond of her. Each of them soaked their handkerchiefs with tears, mourning her passing to the fullest.

Anne, who was sniffling in the kitchen with the other maids, was summoned by her young mistress. Anne quickly wiped her eyes and went upstairs, thinking Miss Pendleton would be giving instructions for the funeral.

She was certain that, though steeped in sorrow, her mistress would be determined to fulfill her duties. That was the kind of person she was.

As she climbed the stairs, Anne wondered what words of comfort she could offer Miss Pendleton.

However, when she opened the door, a scene she could never have imagined unfolded before her. Her mistress’s room was in chaos. The wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the vanity—every drawer was wide open. A large trunk lay open on the bed, and next to it, clothes were piled up like a mountain.

Anne finally spotted Miss Pendleton amidst the mess. She was rummaging through books and papers from the bedside table. Anne approached her.

“Miss, what are you doing?”

Without taking her eyes off the documents, Miss Pendleton said,

“You’re here, Anne. I have much to ask of you. From those clothes, please pick out the ones suitable for a governess to wear.”

“Oh, Miss, but it’s too soon. We haven’t even held the funeral yet, why are you already…”

“My uncle told me to leave at once. He said if I don’t leave within the hour, he’ll have the servants throw me out. Isn’t he a remarkable man?”

Miss Pendleton’s voice was laced with bitter sarcasm. Anne was dumbfounded.

“He’s throwing you out now? Without even allowing you to properly see to Lady Pendleton’s funeral?”

“Yes. Within the hour. Ten minutes have already passed. And I haven’t even managed to pack my documents, let alone my clothes. Please, hurry.”

Anne was flabbergasted, but she knew well enough how dreadful Gerald Pendleton’s character was. She couldn’t bear to see her mistress dragged out. She quickly began to sort through the clothes.