Chapter 90

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Whitefield (7)
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His candor and ever-changing emotional expressions were qualities she herself lacked, and thus she found them captivating. Moreover, his manners and tastes were so refined that being with him was always a pleasant, unobtrusive experience. When she was with him, it felt as though their minds were perfectly in sync, like two gears meshing flawlessly.

She had never met anyone with whom conversation flowed so easily and whose heart was so in tune with hers, save for one man who had briefly appeared twelve years ago, only to vanish.

As Laura enjoyed her friendship with Mr. Dalton, autumn quietly arrived in Yorkshire. A refreshing autumn chill permeated the midday air, and the green leaves of the trees began to be mottled with yellow and red, like a poorly dyed cloth. The servants, now slightly plumper, had begun to layer woolen sweaters and flannel undergarments beneath their uniforms, and the distance between Mrs. Fairfax’s favorite rocking chair and the fireplace had shrunk by a few inches.

Around that time, Laura also grew close to the Reverend and his wife.

It was all thanks to a sudden downpour. One autumn afternoon, while Laura and Olivia were attending tea at the rectory, the sky, which had been clear until morning, suddenly filled with rain clouds, unleashing a torrential storm accompanied by thunder and lightning.

When the tea time concluded, the assembled neighbors each borrowed an umbrella provided by Mrs. Starr before departing, but Laura and Olivia had no choice but to remain at the rectory. Numerous fields and streams lay between the rectory and Dunville Park, and the streams were prone to overflowing with even the slightest rain. Furthermore, the fields were unkempt, and the sticky mud could easily swallow a carriage’s wheels. To set out rashly would surely mean getting stranded midway.

After several hours of waiting for the rain to stop, Mrs. Starr, unable to watch any longer, suggested they spend the night. She assured them there was a guest room, that preparing extra food was no trouble at all, and that her husband, Reverend Starr, would be honored to have the ladies of Dunville Park stay. The two accepted her kindness.

That evening remained a pleasant memory for Laura. The Starrs’ hospitality was impeccable, and the meal and guest room were flawless. But what warmed Laura’s heart the most was the couple’s marital bliss.

The young couple, as evidenced by the French kiss incident that had set the small country village abuzz, were deeply in love. The vivacious Mrs. Starr wore an enraptured expression no matter what her husband said, and the composed Reverend Starr, though trying to maintain a solemn demeanor befitting his station in front of guests, could hardly hide his smile whenever his wife acted affectionately.

Laura soon learned that the two were childhood friends who had grown up in the same village and had finally married after a nine-year engagement. After so long, the two, now a pair of lovebirds, were reveling in the happiness of living as a family with the one they loved, billing and cooing in their small nest of a rectory, all while raising their adorable son, the fruit of their love.

The next day, the sky cleared and the sun shone brightly enough to dry the roads. With a heart warmed by the company of the beautiful couple, Laura returned to Dunville Park with Olivia.

Not long after, an invitation arrived from the rectory. It was a request for her to attend a weekday dinner. Laura was in a difficult position. As much as she wanted to go, her circumstances meant she was not free to come and go as she pleased in the evenings. But when Olivia heard of the invitation, she dashed off to tell her mother, and soon Mrs. Fairfax summoned Laura, had her sit close, and gently explained.

“Reverend Oliver Starr has served Reverend Zenfield like a son since his days as a curate. My health prevents me from visiting often, but it would be a great kindness to me if you would associate with the Starrs, Miss Pendleton.”

And so, permission was granted. Feeling grateful to Olivia and Mrs. Fairfax for their consideration, Laura settled into the carriage, unaware that the mother and daughter she left behind were whispering to each other, counting how often Ian typically attended dinners at the rectory.

Surprisingly, Laura was the only guest invited to the dinner. As she tried to conceal her puzzlement, Mrs. Starr whispered the reason in her ear.

“Please understand, Miss Pendleton. My husband gets so nervous when there are more than four people at the dinner table that he becomes as stiff as a paper doll. And yet, during service, he can preach for hours in front of more than a hundred people. I’m sure once he gets to know you better, we can invite other friends.”

Mrs. Starr seemed quite apologetic for not having invited more guests to entertain Laura. But for Laura, it was not only understandable but also a relief. Loud, crowded social gatherings were not to her taste.

At the modest dinner party, Laura came to understand the couple even better. Reverend Starr, though shy, possessed an intellect and willpower that could not be ignored. Born the youngest son of a poor farming family, he had pursued his education solely on scholarships, eventually graduating at the top of his class from Cambridge to become a theologian.

Mrs. Starr lamented in a self-deprecating tone that although she had attended a girls’ school for seven years, the only thing she had properly learned was how to embroider on muslin. In Laura’s eyes, however, Mrs. Starr, though perhaps lacking in intellect, possessed a willpower equal to her husband’s.

Mrs. Starr was the daughter of a wealthy cloth merchant and, thanks to her lively personality, was popular with men. Nevertheless, she waited nine years for him, enduring her parents’ disapproval, to become the wife of a poor theologian. Their happiness would not have been possible without Mrs. Starr’s faithfulness.

Laura developed a respect for them both and grew to like them even more. And since they felt the same way about her, the dinner invitations continued.

Whenever Laura visited, Mrs. Starr focused on finding a common ground of interests that would allow everyone to chat happily.

If she brought up the trivial daily lives of the villagers, Laura would fall silent. If she started chattering about baby Harry, her husband would fall silent. And if the topic turned to theology or literature, she herself would fall silent. After some thought, she found a subject everyone could joyfully participate in: Mr. Dalton.

Mr. Dalton was a close friend to the Starrs as well. Reverend Starr and Mr. Dalton were Cambridge alumni; they had grown close while sharing a dormitory at King’s College, with the Reverend being a year his senior.

“Darling, darling, darling. Tell her about his Cambridge days. I’m sure Miss Pendleton will find it very amusing.”

He began his story with a low chuckle.

“I became friends with Mr. Dalton in my first year at Cambridge. But I had known of him since enrollment. In fact, there wasn’t a soul in Cambridge who didn’t know him. He was so handsome that he drew attention from the very first day. From his first year on, love letters from young ladies would arrive at his dormitory every single day.”

“Young ladies?”

To a surprised Laura, Mrs. Starr added an explanation.

“The town of Cambridge holds a ball every year during the enrollment season to welcome the new students. All the local young ladies who saw Mr. Dalton there fell for him. And Mr. Dalton only attended that one time, out of politeness, and stayed for less than ten minutes. But he sent back all the letters unopened. He said he couldn’t trust women who professed their love after seeing his face only once.”

It was so typical of Mr. Dalton that Laura could only smile.

At his wife’s urging, the Reverend continued his story.

“But the real reason he became famous at Cambridge was something else. As soon as he enrolled, the coach of the Cambridge rowing club came to our college, asking why he hadn’t submitted his application to join. Mr. Dalton had been the captain of the rowing team for a long time during his days at Eton.”

Laura was taken aback.

“Mr. Dalton was a rower?”

“It was his father’s wish, I believe. During his time as captain, Eton’s rowing team was always victorious at the national competitions. He had the stamina of three men, and his leadership and strategic skills were said to be extraordinary. At the time, Cambridge had been losing to Oxford for several years in a row in the Boat Race. They desperately needed Mr. Dalton. But even as the coach alternated between begging and threatening, he didn't bat an eye.”

“Why did he quit rowing?”

“Because he couldn’t have any personal time while balancing studies and athletics. Besides, he had an agreement with his father that he could do as he pleased after entering university. When begging didn’t work, the Chancellor himself finally stepped in to persuade him, asking him to join the rowing club for the honor of the school. He was offered consideration from the professors regarding his grades, and even a scholarship. But this is what he said.”

Reverend Starr began to speak with the uniquely arrogant expression and chilly voice Mr. Dalton adopted when annoyed. As his old friend, it was a perfect impression.

“‘I enrolled to study, not for the honor of the school. Beating Oxford means nothing to me, and I have no desire to waste a single second on things that are meaningless to me. And Chancellor, if you believe the honor of this school is determined by who can row a boat the fastest, I suggest you re-enroll and start your education over.’”

Laura marveled at Mr. Dalton’s consistent character.

“In the end, everyone gave up, and Mr. Dalton was free. For the next four years, Cambridge lost to Oxford in rowing, and every time, Mr. Dalton was the target of glares from the entire student body. He was the object of open criticism.”

Reverend Starr smiled.

“But he went about his university life with nonchalant ease, not batting an eye. He would often read books and sketch by the lake where the rowing team practiced, just to provoke the coach who had once tormented me. He never lost his position as the top student at Cambridge for all four years and graduated first in his class.”

A brief silence fell. After about ten seconds, as if on cue, all three burst into the laughter they had been holding back. Anyone who knew Ian Dalton would instinctively think the same thing.

That man… he certainly is consistent.