Chapter 96

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: In the Woods (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------

When Laura first discovered this drawing, she had recognized Mr. Dalton at a glance and had been utterly charmed. A fair face with rosy cheeks. Baby fat that looked as soft as a cloud. Clever black eyes. Small lips pressed together in a serious line.

He was the most adorable little boy she had ever seen. If he had been a child she knew in the neighborhood, she would have bought him a piece of candy every day and pinched his cheek.

Laura turned her head to look at Mr. Dalton. He stood beside her, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching the water striders skimming across the lake.

Dressed in a teal suit, complete with a waistcoat and a black tie, he was the perfect young gentleman. The profile revealed beneath his neatly combed-back hair was sharply defined, bearing no trace of the innocent boy from his childhood.

A smile ghosted across Laura’s lips. Her heart clattered like a faulty engine.

Lately, it had been happening often. As if she had caught some illness, her heart would run riot whenever she saw him. Ever since he had wept for her, her emotions had spun out of her control. Though she had put a lid on them, her feelings were seeping through the cracks.

She ignored her emotions with superhuman strength. Thus, her unexpressed feelings became a pain that clawed at her heart.

Laura frowned at the sharp ache in her chest. At times like these, she keenly felt the absence of her father. If she had learned to become accustomed to her emotions like Mr. Dalton, she might have known how to handle them properly.

Her only ways of dealing with feelings had been to control, ignore, and regard them with a suspicious eye. Having lost that control, she was like a foolish parent who, having raised a child with nothing but strictness, could only stand by and endure the resulting turmoil as the now-grown, wayward child caused trouble.

Laura sighed softly and closed the sketchbook. Then, in her usual calm voice, she asked.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was recalling my stone-skipping contest with Miss Hyde. The water reminded me of my humiliating defeat that day.”

Laura let out a low laugh.

“It was an amusing contest.”

“Is Miss Hyde doing well?”

“It seems so. She sent a letter, saying she received a special bonus for finishing Mary Rotis’s manuscript. She even included a small brooch with a pearl as a gift.”

“That’s remarkable. Then again, a lady who can throw a stone past the horizon can accomplish anything.”

“I hope so. In fact, she mentioned the publishing house is discussing promoting her from typist to a full-fledged editor. There’s some opposition among the executives, as there is no precedent for a female editor, but I think it will work out. When it comes to writing, she is more astute and discerning than anyone.”

“Whether Miss Hyde becomes an editor does not depend on her qualifications. It depends on whether the publishing house has a discerning eye. If the promotion falls through, tell Miss Hyde to resign. There’s no need to stay long in a place that does not treat you fairly.”

“Mr. Fairfax seems to think the same. He has already prepared a long list of publishing houses to send new letters of recommendation to, should her promotion be denied.”

“He should worry about his own affairs. Always itching to help others, that one.”

Mr. Dalton praised his friend in a critical tone. Laura burst into laughter.

Just then, a low rumble echoed from the sky.

She looked up to see dust-colored clouds rapidly gathering in what had been a clear sky. Their eyes met in mid-air. A sense of dismay washed over both their faces.

He quickly took off his jacket and draped it over Laura’s head. The jacket, which fit him perfectly, was large enough on Laura to cover her entire upper body even when worn over her head.

Soon, raindrops began to patter against the surface of the water.

He held the front of the jacket closed and asked.

“Are those suitable shoes for running?”

Laura nodded. Whenever she came for a walk in the woods, she wore sturdy, rubber-soled boots.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Then, let’s run.”

He started to run. Laura ran alongside him.

They passed a small path and two springs, then entered a deep part of the woods thick with chestnut trees.

Soon, a small cabin appeared. It was a sturdy oak cabin with a triangular roof. The two of them went inside.

Laura, the jacket still draped over her shoulders, looked around the interior. It was clearly an abandoned house. The dim interior showed no signs of a recent fire, and while chairs were scattered about, the dining table was coated in a thick layer of dust.

“A woodcutter’s family used to live here. It’s been abandoned ever since the father died and his wife left to take a job as a housemaid in London. It’s messy, but let’s stay here until the rain stops.”

He rolled up his sleeves, broke two of the stray wooden chairs, and threw the pieces into the fireplace. Then he took a small matchbox from his pocket, struck a match against the strip with a *flick*, and tossed it into the hearth. A fire roared to life, brightening the gloomy interior.

Laura, who had been watching his movements, gasped. In the bright firelight, she could see that he was soaked to the bone. Water dripped from his hair, and his skin was faintly visible through his damp shirt.

It was autumn, it was raining, and they were in the woods. The temperature had dropped so much that faint white puffs of breath were visible when they exhaled, and on top of that, he was drenched. Laura’s heart sank with worry for his health.

Mr. Dalton, looking annoyed, took off his soaked waistcoat and placed it on the wooden table. He then pulled over another chair, took a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the dust from it. The once-clean handkerchief became a black rag. He folded it neatly, placed it on the table, and moved the chair closer to the fire.

He gestured gently toward Laura.

“Come closer.”

Laura slowly approached the fireplace.

He sat her down in the chair and took the damp jacket from her shoulders. Then he looked her over. Thanks to the jacket, her upper body was completely dry, with only the hem of her skirt slightly damp.

Soon, he stood up, broke a few more chairs, and fed them into the fireplace. The fire burned brighter, and the small cabin grew warm.

As he dusted off his palms, Laura offered him the black shawl she had been wearing.

“Please, dry yourself.”

He shook his head.

“I would not want to ruin Miss Pendleton’s clothing.”

“It’s a cheap shawl I bought for five pence at a second-hand market in London. I wouldn’t mind if it were thrown away this instant, so please use it. I’m afraid my dear friend will catch a cold.”

He smiled softly and accepted the shawl. He lightly wiped his wet face, neck, and arms.

“You would feel uncomfortable using this again. I shall dispose of it and buy you a new one just like it.”

Laura nodded.

Mr. Dalton folded the shawl neatly and, holding it in his hand, spread the jacket he had set aside on the floor at Laura’s feet. Then he sat on it.

*‘It would be less damp if he sat on the shawl.’*

Laura thought so but said nothing, figuring he was likely embarrassed to sit on a lady’s garment.

Heavy raindrops beat fiercely against the old wooden cabin. Laura gazed out the window. The surroundings, which had been bright and sunny just thirty minutes ago, were now a dusky, dust-like color, like late evening just before sunset. It was impossible to guess when the rain might stop. If it rained all night, they would be trapped here until morning.

*‘I shouldn’t have ignored the signs.’*

Laura sighed, flexing her throbbing right hand.

Meanwhile, he sat quietly, gazing at the flames in the fireplace, a silver cigarette case from his jacket held in one hand. His fingers endlessly traced the embossed pattern on the case. Laura read his anxiety in the movement.

“Do you want to smoke?”

He smiled faintly.

“A little.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not in front of a lady.”

“It’s fine in front of a friend.”

“I do not wish to pollute the air you breathe.”

Even so, he compulsively opened and closed the lid of the case. He let out a sigh.

“Smoking is a vice in many ways. It is bad for one’s health and has a negative effect on others. If I ever have a son, I will certainly not teach him to smoke.”

“Did you learn to smoke from your father?”

He nodded.

“I was fifteen. When I returned home for the holidays, my father, who was in his study, called me in. Instead of patting my head as he used to, he offered a handshake and rolled a cigarillo for me. After that, during every holiday, we would sit in the study, smoking and talking. Like adult men discussing business.”

“It seems he wanted to lead you into the world of adults.”

“I believe so. It was around that time that I began preparing in earnest to succeed the Dalton family. My father has passed away, but the Dalton name and the cigarillos have remained with me. And this case, too.”

He gave the case in his hand a little shake.

“It was a gift from my father for my admission to Cambridge.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“It is my favorite among all the gifts my father gave me. From my Cambridge days until now, I have always carried it with me wherever I go. As a result, I kept fiddling with the cigarillos inside, and the habit of smoking became completely ingrained. My father’s intention was likely to share a taste with his son. I understand, but if it were me, I would rather go fishing with my son.”

The sound of crackling firewood could be heard over the rain.

“I envy you for having parents who could pass something down to you. I did not inherit much. Not habits, nor memories, nor gifts.”

“You yourself are their legacy.”

“But everything inside me feels disconnected from them.”

His eyes seemed to ask a question. Was it the warm fire and the sound of the rain that had softened her heart? Words she had never spoken to anyone spilled out.

“I no longer think my parents’ love was a foolish thing. I can sympathize with my mother’s desire to escape the Pendleton family, and I’ve come to understand that my father tried to take responsibility for the consequences. But even if I were to face the same fate as them, I would not make the same choices. Not because it would be wrong, but because that is not the person I am.”