Chapter 74

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: A New Life (5)
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A week had passed since Laura’s arrival at the manor. Mrs. Fairfax, who had been observing Laura with subtle glances while pretending not to, was beginning to reach the limits of her curiosity. Her desire to know more about the young lady who had captured Ian’s heart had finally erupted.

Until now, she had left Laura to her own devices out of consideration for her settling in, but she could bear it no longer. At breakfast, she invited Laura to have tea with her in the morning, on the pretext of introducing her to little Ian.

Laura, filled with anticipation at the prospect of meeting little Ian, readily agreed. Seated in the drawing room, Mrs. Fairfax asked a servant to bring little Ian from the nursery.

While they waited, Laura handed Mrs. Fairfax something wrapped in paper. Mrs. Fairfax unwrapped it. It was a small picture book.

“What is this?”

Laura replied, her face tinged with shyness.

“I promised Mr. Dalton I would give little Ian a gift someday. I made it a few months ago, but I’m only just now able to deliver it.”

Soon after learning that Mr. Dalton had a young nephew, Laura had taken time between her duties to create the gift. It was a storybook she had made by selecting the most amusing fables from *La Fontaine's Fables*, which she had read in her schoolgirl days while just beginning to learn French.

It had been completed months ago, but various circumstances had prevented her from delivering it. She had left it behind at the Pendleton residence when she departed, only remembering it just before leaving for Dunville Park, and had managed to retrieve it safely through Anne.

Mrs. Fairfax could not hide her astonishment as she flipped through the storybook Laura had given her. Inside the book, which was bound in red leather, were eight fables that Laura had transcribed by hand. On one page was the original French, and on the facing page was Laura’s English translation. Beneath the large letters, watercolor paintings drawn by Laura herself charmingly filled the space.

Olivia, who was sitting nearby, leaned toward her mother to look at the book. Olivia was greatly surprised by the beautiful French script adorning the paper. Outwardly, however, she asked coolly, as if it were nothing special.

“You speak French?”

Laura nodded.

“How well?”

“I can read and speak it. I’m conversational.”

“Did you learn from a governess?”

“I learned it during my school days. I was close with a native-speaking teacher.”

Olivia was captivated by her answer. French was an interest that dominated her daily life. Olivia wanted to press Laura for details—how long she had studied, what textbooks she had used.

But showing such interest in Laura felt like a blow to her pride. She feigned indifference, calmly nibbling on a cookie from the table. To Laura, however, Olivia’s agitation was as clear as day.

It was the same for Mrs. Fairfax, of course, who had raised Olivia for thirteen years. Only Olivia herself firmly believed she was concealing her feelings. The two mature women exchanged a look and smiled secretly at Olivia’s expense.

Soon, the nurse entered the drawing room with the baby. Mrs. Fairfax took the child in her arms. Then she leaned toward Laura to show her the baby. At the sight of the infant Fairfax, Laura let out an involuntary gasp of delight.

It was true that while people always said babies were cute, quite a few were not. But little Ian was, by all accounts, a perfect baby angel. Light brown curls, chestnut eyes, rosy cheeks, and bright, curious eyes. Plump, wiggling fingers. There was not a single part of him that wasn't adorable.

Laura leaned closer to the baby, who was looking at her with a runny nose and a bit of drool. She softly called his name. The baby watched her intently, as if he understood her words. Then he broke into a wide smile. Laura laughed in return. She had seen many of her friends’ babies, but never one so lovely.

The child reached out his hands toward Laura. Laura realized he was trying to grab the ribbon decoration on her dress. She leaned closer, and the baby began to fiddle with the ornament.

“Our Ian isn’t shy with strangers. He may share a name with his uncle, but their personalities are completely different.”

Laura’s heart fluttered as she watched the tiny hand clutching the frill on her dress.

“I’ve never seen such a darling baby, madam.”

Mrs. Fairfax went ahead and placed little Ian in Laura’s arms. Laura held little Ian, showing him the storybook she had made and playing with him in her lap. The baby gurgled with laughter, even in the unfamiliar embrace.

The nurse came downstairs. It was time for the baby’s feeding. The nurse took the child. Laura watched with a hint of disappointment as the nurse left the drawing room with the baby. Mrs. Fairfax promised Laura she would see him again soon.

For a while, Laura and Mrs. Fairfax talked about little Ian. When he was born, whether he had learned to roll over, if he could say ‘mama’. It was the typical conversation one has about a baby, but for a woman who loved children and a woman raising one, it was the most delightful topic imaginable.

Meanwhile, Olivia, who neither particularly liked babies nor was raising one, found their conversation dull. She took advantage of a brief lull in their conversation to speak to Laura.

“Do you happen to know a Christine Salmon?”

Laura flipped through the pages of her memory. Soon, she recalled a young lady who had often attended her tea parties.

“Yes. Miss Salmon was a frequent guest at my tea parties.”

“Are you close?”

“No, we’re merely acquaintances. Is she a friend of yours, Miss Fairfax?”

“She’s my friend Lydia’s older cousin. She mentioned she often went to tea parties at the Pendleton residence.”

“Then you must have known of me before I arrived, Miss Fairfax.”

“Only your name.”

Laura nodded. Olivia then began to unleash her curiosity in earnest.

“You were in London society for a long time, weren’t you? For how many years?”

Laura told her the specific number of years. Olivia blinked. It was a surprisingly long time. It was nearly as long as she had been alive.

For a moment, Olivia forgot her animosity toward Laura. She began rattling off the names of society figures she had collected from poring over the society pages of magazines and newspapers, asking if Laura knew them. Laura had exchanged greetings or conversed with most of them, and had even attended the weddings, funerals, and christenings of them or their families. Laura readily shared these facts.

Olivia’s heart pounded. It felt as though a tremendous personage was sitting right before her.

Olivia was deeply interested in London society, but the only London lady she knew properly was her aunt, Janet Fairfax. Naturally, Olivia idolized Janet. At seventeen, Miss Janet Fairfax was still a newcomer to society, but to thirteen-year-old Olivia, she seemed a complete adult.

She couldn’t forget Janet’s visit to the manor last Christmas. Dressed head to toe in the latest London fashions, Janet had appeared confident and sophisticated.

She had followed her aunt around, peppering her with questions about society, and Miss Janet, in turn, had told her adorable, adoring niece every last detail. More than half of Olivia’s questions were about things Janet had never experienced, but rather than admit her ignorance, Janet had hidden her lack of experience with imagination and conjecture.

Mrs. Fairfax said.

“Our Olivia will make her debut in London society in three years. She’ll be staying with our young master and mistress.”

“Mr. William Fairfax and Miss Janet?”

“Yes. Miss Janet said she would help Olivia.”

“That’s wonderful. It’s as if she’ll be living with her guardian and mentor. You must be very reassured, madam.”

“Indeed. They are both a trustworthy gentleman and lady. I have no worries about Olivia’s debut. Though she herself is terribly anxious about it, claiming she isn’t properly accomplished in anything, be it dancing or painting.”

“Mother.”

Olivia tried to stop her mother, but Mrs. Fairfax pretended not to hear and continued.

“She’s particularly frantic about her French, begging me for a tutor every day. She had a teacher for about a year, but she suddenly left to get married. Her fiancé established himself sooner than expected, apparently. Thanks to that, Olivia is anxious about missing her French lessons.”

Laura looked at Olivia. Her face was red, likely from the shame of her mother so freely revealing her shortcomings.

“You have a strong desire to learn, Miss Fairfax. That is a good thing. However, there is no need to be so frightened of London society. I imagine it is not so different from society in Yorkshire.”

“Not different? But, according to my Aunt Janet, most of the young ladies there speak French as fluently as their mother tongue, and they all play at least five instruments. And they’re well-versed in everything from literature to philosophy.”

Laura shook her head.

“Unless the society Miss Janet Fairfax moves in is different from the one I knew, that is an exaggeration. It is a place where people live, and so their accomplishments and talents vary widely. Miss Fairfax, would you tell me what you have learned so far?”

Olivia obediently listed her accomplishments: basic subjects like literature, mathematics, and history, as well as painting, piano, and dancing.

“With that, you are accomplished enough to make your debut this very moment.”

“R-Really?”

“Of course. Many young ladies with fewer accomplishments than you make plenty of friends and receive love letters from gentlemen.”

Olivia was confused. It was completely different from what her Aunt Janet had told her. Her aunt had looked at her paintings and heard her piano playing and had thoroughly frightened her, saying that if she went to London like this, she would surely be humiliated.

But Laura was much older than her Aunt Janet and had been a part of society for far longer. Logically, it made more sense to trust Laura’s word over Janet’s.

Olivia, forgetting her animosity toward Laura, began to pour out all the questions that had been weighing on her mind. She asked whether actual society was the same as, or different from, the London society guidebooks she had passed around with her friends and the stories that circulated among pre-debut young ladies.