Chapter 86

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Whitefield (3)
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Ramswick let out a sigh of relief. But soon, his face fell.

“Why on earth does the master never tell me of such important matters? If a lady who might soon become the mistress of this estate were to visit, I would have cleaned with far more care than usual, and I could have shown her a dozen more of our finest rooms, the ones I dare say are the most beautiful in this house.”

“Hmm, I suppose he didn’t say anything because he thought you’d make a fuss. Besides, you’re too honest to tell a lie. Just pretend you didn’t hear anything from me. By the way, when will his meeting with the lawyer be over?”

“It should be concluding soon, Miss.”

Olivia clicked her tongue with a ‘tsk.’

“He was the one who insisted I bring my teacher today, so why on earth is he working at a time like this?”

“Did you have an appointment?”

“Clearly. Do you have any idea how much my mother and I wracked our brains trying to figure out how to bring her here?”

“It must have been a meeting that couldn’t be postponed. The lawyer and the property manager have been visiting frequently these days. And they always stay for hours, talking.”

“About what?”

“That, I do not know, Miss. Business matters, perhaps?”

Uninterested in business, Olivia turned her head to look at her teacher. The teacher was so engrossed in her book it was as if she had forgotten they were even there.

“By the way, did my teacher seem to like Whitefield Hall?”

“Yes. She appeared particularly impressed by the paintings in the Long Gallery. She seems to have a keen eye for art.”

Olivia’s shoulders squared with pride.

“Of course. She was educated at the finest girls’ school since she was a child. And she’s a lady who was in London society for twelve years. It’s only natural she has high standards.”

Ramswick was surprised.

“My, then why is such a person working as a governess?”

Olivia let out a heavy sigh.

“If you heard her story, you’d cry a river of tears yourself.”

Ramswick gave Olivia a quizzical look. Olivia gestured for him to come closer again. As Ramswick bent his head, Olivia began to whisper the story.

Meanwhile, Laura, who had forgotten the other two’s presence entirely in her absorption with the book, closed the volume she held open in her hands, her heart fluttering with excitement. It was Thomas Hobbes’s *Leviathan*. It was a book the headmistress at her school had encouraged her to read, and seeing it again after more than a decade brought back a wave of memories.

‘I should read it slowly when I get home.’

She clutched the book to her chest and walked slowly along the shelves.

Dunville Park also had a library, but its collection was small and the books were in poor condition. Pages were loose, covers were falling off, and some were even moldy. Even when Laura found a book she wanted to read, she was often too afraid of damaging it further to open it freely.

She walked around, searching for the book Olivia needed. Surprisingly, among the tens of thousands of volumes, she was able to find it in less than five minutes. The books were systematically organized by subject and author’s name.

The condition of the books she opened was also excellent. Though the paper of the older books had yellowed with age, they were all clean, without a speck of dust. It was clear they were meticulously cared for by the servants.

Collecting so many books must have been difficult, but maintaining them so immaculately would require an extraordinary amount of attention. An avid book lover herself, she felt a boundless respect for the Dalton ancestors who had amassed the collection and for Mr. Dalton, who was preserving it so well.

Laura strolled before the shelves as if walking through a garden and pulled out two or three more books. One was an original edition of Goethe’s *Faust*, and the other was Jane Austen’s *Mansfield Park*.

Having chosen all her books, Laura approached Olivia again.

Ramswick and Olivia were talking intently, their heads close together. They stopped abruptly at the sound of Laura’s footsteps. Ramswick, with his unfailingly gentle demeanor, pulled out a chair for Laura to sit, poured tea into a rose-patterned cup, and placed it beside her.

Ramswick then left the library to check on the preparations for the luncheon for their guests.

Sipping her tea, Laura showed Olivia the book she had found for her. Olivia was also curious about the books her teacher had brought for herself. Laura readily showed her the books she had chosen.

“*Leviathan*? I’ve never heard of this book. Hmm, is this Italian… *Mansfield Park*? It’s a Jane Austen novel, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Jane Austen is my favorite among all novelists.”

“I enjoyed *Pride and Prejudice*, too. But I didn’t care for the others. *Persuasion* was boring, and I couldn’t even finish *Mansfield Park*. I prefer novels like *Jane Eyre* or *Tess of the d’Urbervilles*.”

“*Persuasion* might feel different if you read it as an adult. But I suspect your opinion of *Mansfield Park* won’t change much, even when you’re older, Miss Fairfax. It is, however, my favorite of all Austen’s novels.”

Olivia stared at the leather-bound copy of *Mansfield Park*. Her teacher’s favorite novel by her favorite author. She felt she simply had to read it again. There must be something special hidden in the novel that she had missed.

“Teacher, could I… at Dunville Park…”

“Ladies, are you having a pleasant time?”

The two ladies turned their heads in unison toward the library entrance.

Standing there was the master of the library, the master of the estate, and the master of every single white birch tree they had passed: Ian Dalton.

He was dressed in a navy suit, complete with a tie. His eyes, as black as the knots on the Whitefield birches, gazed at the ladies with a gentle look, and he wore a beautiful smile that could not be found in any of the portraits hanging in the Long Gallery.

He strode toward the ladies. Both smiled at the welcome appearance of the gentleman and curtsied lightly before him.

“Miss Pendleton, I was beginning to think inviting you was more difficult than turning coal into obsidian.”

“Mrs. Fairfax said she couldn’t let her daughter come alone.”

“It seems my sister and Olivia have granted my wish, then.”

Mr. Dalton spoke in a light tone and smiled warmly at Olivia.

“It’s good to see you at Whitefield after so long, Olivia. Is your mother well?”

“Yes, she’s well. Oh, but she’s started using more logs in the fireplace.”

“It will only get colder soon. That is a concern.”

He murmured quietly, then glanced toward the desk.

“I’m curious to see what books you ladies have chosen.”

Laura showed him the books. A faint smile on his lips, Ian scanned her selections, but his eyes turned quizzical when he saw the cover of *Mansfield Park*.

“Did you choose this for Olivia?”

“No. It’s for me to read.”

“You won’t be offended if I strongly advise against it, will you?”

“I won’t be offended, but I am curious as to why you would try to dissuade me.”

“Because it’s the most tedious of all Austen’s novels. Something unpleasant must have been happening constantly around Austen when she was writing it. Otherwise, there’s no way the same hand that wrote *Emma* could have produced such a thing.”

Laura let out a soft laugh, while Olivia’s face went pale.

“Uncle. That novel is…”

Worried that Laura’s feelings would be hurt, Olivia tried to stop her uncle’s unrestrained commentary. But Laura quietly gestured for her to stop.

“So that is your opinion of *Mansfield Park*, Mr. Dalton. I have yet to read any of Austen’s novels. In that case, would you recommend another of her works?”

Mr. Dalton stroked his chin in thought, then shook his head.

“That’s not easy. The heroines are all foolish in their own way, and the endings are all cut from the same cloth. Still, *Persuasion*… that one is decent enough.”

“Ah, so *Persuasion* is the most tolerable of Jane Austen’s novels.”

“Yes. Anne Elliot is the most mature protagonist Austen ever created. The rest are all foolish and obtuse…”

“Uncle!”

Unable to hold back any longer, Olivia cut Mr. Dalton off. He looked at his niece, puzzled. Olivia quickly explained the situation.

A look of dismay colored Mr. Dalton’s face.

“Miss Pendleton, I apologize. Please forgive me.”

Laura shook her head, her face full of amusement.

“Why are you apologizing when I was the one who deceived you first? I didn’t say anything because I wanted to hear your honest opinion, whether it be praise or criticism. Please, continue telling me why you dislike Austen’s heroines so much. I’m eager to hear it.”

Mr. Dalton smiled, his brow furrowed.

“Sometimes, Miss Pendleton, you have a way of catching a person off guard. Very well, since my views on Austen are already exposed, I will share them without reservation. But first, let us eat. It is time for luncheon.”

The two ladies and the gentleman made their way to the dining room.

The dining room at Whitefield Hall was a space that gleamed like freshly polished porcelain. A ten-person dining table, draped in a white cloth, was set with sparkling silver cutlery. Here and there, pristine white porcelain vases held fresh summer flowers that exuded a vibrant fragrance. Large windows were thrown open, offering a view of the beautiful Whitefield landscape beyond.

As the three of them sat at the table, the food was served course by course. Hot mushroom soup and a cold salad. Pheasant and sole, a poultry pie, and rice pudding.

Laura was quite hungry from her tour of Whitefield Hall, and the food was a welcome sight. While Mr. Dalton asked Olivia for a detailed account of everyone at Dunville Park, Laura was able to satisfy her hunger without feeling self-conscious.

As she tasted the food, Laura realized that Whitefield’s cook was a person of considerable skill. The sauces were refined, and everything was cooked to perfection.

“Miss Pendleton, is the meal to your liking?”

Having heard all the latest news of the Fairfax family, from the tale of his brother-in-law’s back pain flaring up whenever it rained to little Ian’s progress in learning to walk, Mr. Dalton finally turned his gaze to Laura.