Chapter 60

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Exit (2)
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A governess's attire. It was a delicate matter. It had to be more elegant than a maid's uniform, yet appear more modest than that of her employers. Flashy jewelry was not permitted, and dresses that revealed the collarbone or accentuated the hips were, of course, forbidden.

Anne was at a loss. Miss Pendleton was more frugal than other young ladies of society, but she was still a noblewoman who moved in London's social circles. Most of her clothes were formal attire, suitable for aristocratic society.

Dinner gowns, ball gowns for evening wear, and dresses for tea parties or outings. From her hats to her gloves, not a single item was anything less than luxurious. Of Miss Pendleton's twenty dresses, Anne could find only three that were suitable for a governess.

A gray lawn dress with black vine embroidery along the edges. A green tartan dress with no embellishments. And a brown silk dress that, while somewhat borderline, could look respectable if worn with a modest cape.

She folded the clothes and placed them in the trunk. It filled half the space. Miss Pendleton filled the other half with bundles of letters and her books: a Latin Bible, an epic poem in Greek, a German philosophy book, and a few French essays.

After instructing Anne to burn all unnecessary documents and letters, Miss Pendleton went to her dressing table. She folded the hairnets she often used, wrapped them, and put them in her pocket. Then, she poured all the jewelry she possessed into a small cloth pouch and tucked it deep inside the trunk.

She then packed unadorned gloves, shoes, and shawls into the trunk. After a moment of hesitation, she included a pure white lace shawl.

Soon, Anne returned, having burned all the papers. Miss Pendleton was looking around the room, checking if she had missed anything.

“So, you will be coming to the funeral, then.”

Miss Pendleton shook her head.

“Then, what about when the will is read?”

Miss Pendleton smiled faintly.

“There will be no inheritance for me.”

“Why?”

“My uncle changed the will. No, to be precise, he forged it. Everything I own is now in this trunk.”

Anne rushed to Miss Pendleton’s side.

“That’s absurd! You even called for a lawyer. There was a notary present.”

“They became rich from this. My uncle supposedly gave them ten thousand pounds each.”

“Impossible. How could he be so wicked!”

Miss Pendleton silently went to her desk and gathered a notebook and a few writing implements. Anne approached her and said.

“Sue him, miss!”

“Sue him?”

“Yes, miss. A lawsuit. You know my fiancé is a lawyer, don't you? Of course, it’s been less than a year since he joined a firm, but he’s capable and intelligent. He's already won three cases in court. He's never lost. If he knew the situation, he would fight for you!”

Miss Pendleton gazed at Anne. Then, she placed a hand on her shoulder and gently patted it.

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Don't say that. You've always been so warm and kind to me, miss. When I first started serving you, you always forgave my mistakes, and whenever my sisters—whom you've never even met—got married, you gave me extra wages as a wedding gift… Now, first, after the will is read, I will testify to what I heard…”

“Anne.”

Anne looked at her. She shook her head.

“Miss! You can’t just back down like this. Forging a will is clearly illegal! I’m certain you will win! Don’t you want to reclaim your grandmother’s final legacy?”

“I do want it back. Of course. But I cannot sacrifice so much for something with no chance of success.”

“No chance? Do you mean there’s no evidence? You have my ears! And what is there to sacrifice?”

“Your marriage.”

“Pardon?”

“My uncle would rather die than lose. He is not a man who accepts defeat. The answer lies in the court battle between my grandmother and him twenty years ago. He hired dozens of lawyers and dragged it out for years, exhausting my grandmother until she gave up. For seven long years. Even my grandmother, as wealthy as she was, eventually threw in the towel. I believe your fiancé is competent, but this case would cost him the opportunity to take on other matters. And in turn, your wedding would be endlessly postponed. For five years, perhaps even ten.”

“I don’t mind. If it means I can clear your name of this injustice, I would postpone my wedding.”

Miss Pendleton shook her head.

“No matter how I think about it, this is a losing battle, Anne. Even if I win, after paying the legal fees, there'd be nothing left for me. It would be better to focus my time on teaching children instead. Besides, it was never truly my money to begin with. Forget it. Let's just forget it.”

Anne stomped her foot, crying, “But, but,” before finally bursting into tears.

“It’s just so unfair!”

Miss Pendleton quietly watched Anne sob. Anne, who had always been more concerned with her affairs than she herself was. Anne, who always expressed the emotions she kept suppressed. She was her precious friend. More precious than any connection she had made in high society.

“I’m fine. I really am. I have some savings I've put away over the years. And I have knowledge in my head. There won't be another governess in London who knows as much as I do. I can live on my own just fine, Anne. So please, stop. Stop crying. Don’t break my heart.”

Miss Pendleton consoled Anne. By the time Anne’s crying subsided, there were about ten minutes left.

Miss Pendleton asked Anne to distribute the expensive dresses, hats, gloves, and shoes she couldn't take with her to the maids as parting gifts. She then handed her a paper envelope and asked her to give one pound note from it to each of the male servants. Seeing her mistress fulfill her duties to the very end, Anne burst into tears once more.

Miss Pendleton draped a black cape over her mourning dress and, wearing a plain, flat black hat, descended the stairs. The servants were all preoccupied with their own grief, and the house was empty. Miss Pendleton was able to walk down to the entrance hall without being seen.

Standing at the entrance, Miss Pendleton suddenly paused. It felt as if something was holding her back. She stood still for a moment before asking Anne.

“Could you bring me the Whitefield painting from the drawing room?”

Anne hurried off to the drawing room. Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps came from the top of the stairs. It was Gerald Pendleton.

“An hour has passed. Get out now.”

“I still have something I haven't packed, Uncle.”

“I don't care. Get out. Before I call the servants to throw you out!”

Miss Pendleton stood her ground. Soon, he bellowed for the servants. They came running in a flurry.

“Drag this woman out.”

The servants were thrown into confusion by Gerald Pendleton’s order.

“You won't even grant me a single minute of dignity. I understand your intentions perfectly, Uncle. I will not beg for mercy any longer.”

Miss Pendleton lifted the trunk herself. The heavy weight made her shoulder muscles scream in protest. She struggled to drag it out.
A servant moved to help her.

“Anyone who helps that woman will be thrown out barefoot!”

The servants froze in unison. Just then, Anne returned from the drawing room with the painting, saw the scene, and rushed to Miss Pendleton’s side to grab the trunk.

“Let me. I'll carry it, miss.”

“No, Anne. It’s all right…”

“Take your hands off that luggage!”

Gerald Pendleton’s thunderous voice followed. Anne glared up at Gerald, her eyes bloodshot, and shouted.

“You’re too much! You’re truly too much, sir!”

“Anne! That’s enough!”

Tears welled in Anne's eyes as she looked at Miss Pendleton. Miss Pendleton shook her head at her. Insubordination was unacceptable. With his temper, she would be dismissed on the spot.

Miss Pendleton took the painting from Anne's hands and dragged the trunk as she left the Pendleton house.

And so, from the most splendid townhouse on Grosvenor Street, London's wealthiest district, Miss Pendleton, the de facto mistress of the house, was cast out after twelve years. Without the help of servants, and with no one to see her off.

* * *

Clutching the trunk with both hands, Miss Pendleton walked step by step down Grosvenor Street. Darkness had fallen, and the street was deserted and quiet. She walked toward Grosvenor Square in the distance.

The park, shrouded in night, was empty of people. Miss Pendleton set down the trunk she was carrying and sat on a bench. It was late at night. No one was strolling about.

Miss Pendleton curled up on the bench. She felt the unfamiliar texture of the mourning clothes wrapped around her body. It was the first time she had worn them. A garment she had prepared, thinking she would have to wear it someday. And that day had finally come.

The day she was left all alone in the world had come.

Miss Pendleton had had her grandmother, the servants had always awaited her instructions, many people in society knew her, and she had many friends. But looking back, it seemed she had always felt alone.

The feeling of being like drifting dust. The feeling of being present, yet not truly there. The feeling of constantly having to prove her worth to someone.

Living in a state of tension for twelve years, she had constantly suffered from nervous headaches and could not gain weight no matter how much she ate. There had not been a single day when she felt completely at ease. The only times she could truly rest were when she imagined a future living away from the Pendleton house, but even those moments were fleeting.

But now that the day had actually arrived, she felt as if she had fallen down a well. Falling and falling into a long, endless darkness.

Her grandmother, who had made her live as a Pendleton, was gone, and she had been kicked out of the Pendleton house where she had lived for twelve years. She had also broken ties with the society in which she had been all but confined, and now she could not even use the Pendleton name. She felt stateless. She felt like a plant torn from the soil, roots and all.

Miss Pendleton curled up tighter. She felt hollow and cold, as if all her insides had vanished. It was difficult to hold herself up, as if every sinew in her body had been severed.

It occurred to her that the walls she had used to confine herself might have been the very fence that protected her all this time. She had longed for freedom so desperately, but now that she was completely free, she felt like a fish pulled from the water, gasping for air.

Miss Pendleton took a deep breath. The fresh June air seeped into her lungs. She thought it was fortunate, at least, that she had left the house in June. Had it been winter, she would have felt even more hopeless.

She remained curled up like that for a while. The strength that had drained from her body showed no sign of returning. She didn't even have the energy to cry. It felt as though all the life had been sucked out of her.

She was simply immersed in a feeling of emptiness. She lifted her head and looked at the park. At Grosvenor Square, submerged in pitch-black darkness.

Huhu. A listless laugh escaped her. It was amusing how she had naturally ended up here, a place she had avoided even passing by for the last twelve years.

That incident from twelve years ago. Her first love. A trivial society scandal that had long since faded from everyone's memory.

But in her mind, it was as vivid as yesterday. It would appear in her dreams whenever she was about to forget, preventing her from doing so.

That memory, along with the pearl pendant around her neck, served to lock Laura's heart away.