Chapter 7

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: A New Gentleman Appears in High Society
-----------------------------------------------------------------

News of Ian Dalton of Whitefield's arrival spread through London in an instant.

Heir to a vast estate passed down for hundreds of years, owner of immense forests and mines. A young landowner who, at the age of thirty, possessed all these titles. And yet, he was unmarried—Ian Dalton.

Parents with daughters could not help but be on high alert at his appearance in London. Furthermore, thanks to Miss Janet Fairfax, the lark of high society, a rumor that Ian Dalton's looks were anything but ordinary had spread among the ladies of London, causing his social stock to soar to astronomical heights without his knowledge.

However, he made no appearance at the social gatherings frequented by most of London's upper class. To dinner invitations, he sent back only polite letters of refusal, clearly penned by another's hand, and he did not even show his face at smaller events like balls or concerts.

Had a young man from an ordinary family behaved in such a manner, he would have been branded as rude and forgotten by society, but he was never forgotten. London society was a place that never forgot a young man from a wealthy and reputable family.

His indifference, rather, created an air of mystery, further stoking the curiosity of many.

Ian Dalton's seclusion—if one could call it that—had a positive effect on the social standing of others: namely, the Fairfax siblings. Miss Janet Fairfax, in particular, received an unprecedented rush of invitations to tea parties simply because she was staying in the same house as Ian Dalton, and she attended a great many of them.

She reveled in the curious attention of the young ladies who wondered what Ian Dalton was doing and when he would make his social debut, letting out happy squeals. Seventeen was an age when the attention of other young ladies was just as thrilling as that of young men.

However, Miss Fairfax could not provide them with the answers they sought. She, too, was unaware of what plans Ian Dalton had for his social life.

This was because whenever his young cousin-in-law blushed and stammered, asking what he planned to do next, Ian Dalton would simply shrug and continue flipping through a book.

In the meantime, Mr. and Mrs. Morton returned from their honeymoon. They first visited the home of Mrs. Morton's godmother, Countess Abigail Pendleton, and then proceeded to call upon their neighbors. For a time, the conversation at tea parties shifted to the Mortons, thanks to the happy sight of the handsome couple and the gifts they brought.

But soon after, Miss Janet Fairfax—who had been anxiously biting her nails and counting her dwindling invitations as the center of attention shifted—found an opportunity for a comeback.

She learned that Ian Dalton would be attending the Mortons' first ball, to be held the following week.

After that, every house with an unmarried young lady was in an uproar. Unmarried sisters fought over the best dress in the house, plump young ladies began to fast, and those of marriageable age cajoled and threw tantrums before their parents to summon a dressmaker for a new gown.

The parents were not immune to this chaos either. Fathers downed whiskey to lower the blood pressure raised by dressmakers' bills, and mothers endured the humiliation of writing to better-off friends to borrow jewelry for their daughters to wear.

Amid this turmoil, Miss Pendleton alone remained as calm as the eye of a storm. Fortunately, her time for joining such competitions had long passed.

As the rumor that one could be introduced to Mr. Dalton through her had not yet spread, Miss Pendleton was spared any particular bother.

The day before the ball, Miss Pendleton quietly sent letters to a few marriageable young ladies of her acquaintance, urging them to attend the Mortons' ball. The letters contained subtle hints, tailored to the indirect manner of communication favored by London's ladies.

And so, the evening of the ball arrived.

As the clock struck seven, Miss Pendleton sat at her dressing table while her maid arranged her hair. The reflection of herself in a ball gown, her shoulders bare, seemed quite unfamiliar.

It had been a long time since she had attended a ball. Especially one of this scale.

She fidgeted with her hands, clad in long ball gloves that reached past her elbows.

As she styled Miss Pendleton's hair, the maid, Anne, asked,

“Many people will be there tonight, Miss.”

“Of course. It is the Mortons' first ball.”

“Is that Mr. Ian Dalton truly coming as well?”

“Yes. Mr. Fairfax promised he would be sure to bring him.”

Anne looked down at Miss Pendleton's auburn hair, which she had neatly braided.

Long tresses gleaming under the light. Having grown up amongst seven sisters, Anne had seen more than her fair share of women's hair, but she had never seen any as lovely as that of the mistress she served. Miss Pendleton's hair was so beautiful it seemed a shame for her to see it alone, infuriatingly so to confine it within a hairnet.

Anne placed her hands on Miss Pendleton's shoulders.

“Then, how about we try a different hairstyle today?”

“Why?”

“I heard from the maids next door that the gentleman is quite handsome. And terribly rich.”

“That's right. He is a man of excellent prospects. It would be even better if his character were just as fine. But why are you suggesting a different hairstyle for me, Anne?”

“It would be nice if you looked even prettier than usual. Who knows? He might fall for you among all the other ladies.”

Miss Pendleton burst out laughing.

“Nonsense. He is a man who could marry any young lady he desires. Now, hurry and put on the hairnet, Anne. The carriage will be waiting outside.”

Anne pouted, then coiled Miss Pendleton's hair into a bun and secured it with a lavender hairnet that matched her dress. As always, the weight of her abundant hair caused Miss Pendleton's head to tilt back slightly.

Miss Pendleton straightened her neck, and Anne soon fastened a pearl pendant around it.

The two of them gazed into the mirror. Miss Pendleton's face, every strand of hair pulled back, was illuminated by the lamplight. Anne gazed at her mistress's elegant and beautiful face before murmuring with a soft groan.

“Miss, it's been nearly ten years since I began serving you, hasn't it?”

“It has, hasn't it?”

“You haven't changed a bit, Miss.”

Miss Pendleton smiled warmly.

“That's a lovely thing to hear.”

“I mean it. There's not a trace of time on your face. No matter how simply you dress, you look like a queen.”

“I fear someone might overhear. To say such a thing when Her Majesty the Queen is still in good health.”

This was how Miss Pendleton always deflected compliments about her beauty—with a bland joke.

“Miss, my older sister says that when a woman meets a man, she must forget her circumstances and trust only in her charm. She says you can marry any man that way.”

“Is that how you met your fiancé?”

“Of course. How else could a mere maid become engaged to a lawyer?”

“Hmm, if I were one of your seven sisters, I imagine I would have changed my surname by now.”

Anne sighed, then fetched a lace shawl—a recent gift from the Mortons—and draped it over Miss Pendleton's shoulders.

Miss Pendleton rose from her seat, checked her appearance one last time in the full-length mirror, and nodded with satisfaction.

“Thank you, Anne. You've done a perfect job, as always. If I happen to receive a proposal from a neighboring prince tonight, it will be all thanks to you.”

To Miss Pendleton's frivolous words, Anne replied sullenly.

“Not at all. I have merely polished the diamond.”

Miss Pendleton chuckled softly and left the room.

* * *

Upon arriving at the ballroom, Miss Pendleton greeted Mr. and Mrs. Morton, who were standing at the entrance to receive their guests, and then entered the hall. The dance floor was already alive with the lively tune of a quadrille. Miss Pendleton stood to one side of the hall, watching the dancers.

Ladies in beautiful gowns, their hair adorned with fresh May flowers and waists cinched tightly by corsets, stepped in time with gentlemen in black tuxedos across the smooth marble floor.

Miss Pendleton looked around. Men and women dancing, and others waiting for the next dance. There must have been at least two hundred people. It was a large crowd, considering the social season had just begun. Feeling the warmth of the already stuffy room, Miss Pendleton moved to a spot near the terrace and watched the dance floor.

Just then, the music ended, and the people on the dance floor began to disperse. Among them, Mr. Fairfax spotted Miss Pendleton. After safely escorting his dance partner back to her party, he approached her.

“Good evening, Miss Pendleton!”

Miss Pendleton smiled and extended her hand. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“This year's social season is bustling from the very start.”

“Indeed. Did Miss Janet Fairfax not accompany you?”

“She is with her friends. Over there… no, is she accepting a dance from that scoundrel George Orson?”

“Is Mr. Orson's character so poor?”

“Were you not aware, Miss Pendleton?”

“His reputation among the ladies is not so bad. He is polite and a good dancer.”

“It's a mask he wears in front of the ladies. At the gentlemen's clubs, he behaves abominably. He's the only man who cheats at cards even when there's no money at stake.”

“Still, no great harm can come from a single dance.”

“Hmm, you're right. Janet is a girl who knows how to judge character.”

Even as he said this, Mr. Fairfax could not tear his worried gaze away from his sister. Miss Pendleton watched him and smiled faintly.

It was the first time she had seen his face since Miss Hyde had refused his proposal. Fortunately, he was his usual self. He had lost some weight, but his complexion was not poor, so one could assume he had simply been hunting with some vigor. It seemed he had mostly recovered from the blow.

Mr. Fairfax clicked his tongue as he watched his sister take to the dance floor with Mr. Orson, then turned his head back to Miss Pendleton.

“Well, I suppose I can let her have one dance. Now then, Miss Pendleton. Is this next dance promised to anyone?”

“No. I have only just arrived.”

Mr. Fairfax offered her his hand.

“Then, may I have this dance?”

Miss Pendleton smiled and took his hand without hesitation.

As they stepped onto the floor, an elegant melody began, signaling the start of the cotillion. The men and women, standing in a wide formation, held hands and spun in circles, stepping to the rhythm.

Mr. Fairfax, who had a good sense of rhythm, and Miss Pendleton, who was well-versed in ballroom dancing, moved across the floor as smoothly as flowing water.

As he led her, his hand on her waist, Mr. Fairfax asked,

“Miss Hyde is not here today.”

Miss Pendleton averted her gaze slightly.

“She is… unwell, I'm afraid.”

“Miss Hyde?”

“Yes. A cold.”

Mr. Fairfax gave Miss Pendleton a look of disbelief. Indeed, considering the usually robust health of Miss Hyde, who was as sturdy as a pony, it was a poor excuse.