Chapter 98

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: The Hunting Party (1)
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The day after she and Mr. Dalton had taken shelter from the rain in the cottage, Laura was sharing afternoon tea alone with Mrs. Fairfax in her private chambers when she learned of Mr. Dalton’s plans to host a party. Mrs. Fairfax, a fox-fur shawl draped over her shoulders, paused mid-sip and asked in surprise.

“A hunting party? And for several days?”

“Yes.”

“How surprising. What’s gotten into Ian? Perhaps he fell from one of those apple trees he’s been tending to and hit his head.”

Laura let out a small laugh.

“I am concerned, though. I don’t believe his house has anyone capable of preparing for such a large-scale party.”

“Actually, there is something I must ask your permission for. Mr. Dalton has asked me to help with the party preparations. May I go and lend a hand?”

“Oh, you, Miss Pendleton? Then I have no worries at all. Of course, you may go.”

Mrs. Fairfax granted her permission readily, nibbling on a madeleine. Laura had expected as much. But a more difficult request remained. She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“And… I’ve also been invited.”

Laura quickly added.

“If you do not permit it, Mrs. Fairfax, I will not go.”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t permit it?”

“I’m sure all the most distinguished people from London will be there. I fear that if I were to appear in such a setting, it would tarnish the Dalton family’s honor.”

“…”

Mrs. Fairfax set the madeleine she was holding back down on her plate.

“Miss Pendleton.”

“Yes.”

“You are a truly humble and upright person. Sometimes, excessively so. You belittle yourself and shy away from everything. I have let it be until now, but I find that attitude upsetting. Perhaps it is because I have learned that you are Mr. Sheldon’s daughter.”

“…”

“Twenty years ago, Mr. Sheldon visited this place. I thought he was an angel sent by my late mother. His appearance, his conduct—the word ‘angel’ suited him perfectly. I believe it was divine providence that brought you, his daughter, to this house.”

Mrs. Fairfax reached out and took Laura’s small, folded hands from her lap, holding them tightly.

“No one can point a finger at you any longer. The Dalton and Fairfax families will not allow it. You are under the protection of the two most powerful families in Yorkshire. It’s time you lived with your head held high.”

Laura could not say a word. Her heart was full.

Mrs. Fairfax, who had always treated her with more kindness than she deserved, had become even more affectionate after learning she was Louis Sheldon’s daughter. It was as if she were a long-lost child.

From Mrs. Fairfax, Laura was feeling a maternal warmth she thought she would never experience again after her grandmother’s passing.

Laura nodded.

“Well then, what will you wear for the ball gown?”

“The brown dress I always wear when I visit the Dalton estate.”

“The ball will last for days. Do you mean to get by with just that one dress?”

“It will be fine. Even during my time in London society, I never dressed more elaborately than that.”

Mrs. Fairfax frowned for a moment, lost in thought.

“Miss Pendleton, I…”

*Knock, knock.*

At Mrs. Fairfax’s reply, the door opened, and a liveried servant approached the two ladies, holding a silver platter.

“Madam, the post has arrived.”

Mrs. Fairfax picked up the letters on the platter and glanced through them one by one. Her indifferent eyes suddenly sparkled at the sight of one particular letter.

“Oh, my. A letter from Hartnum Cottage.”

Hartnum Cottage was where the family of the late Reverend Zenfield resided.

“I wonder if someone is ill.”

She hastily tore open the envelope and began to read.

The servant holding the tray leaned toward Laura.

“Your letters have been set aside, Miss. Shall I have your maid take them to your room, or would you like to see them now?”

“Oh, I am expecting something. I’ll take them now, please.”

The servant produced two letters from his pocket and handed them to Laura. She took them eagerly.

One was from Anne in London, and the other was from Miss Hyde.

Laura’s heart began to pound as soon as she saw the name Jane Hyde. She had been craning her neck for days, waiting for Miss Hyde’s letter. She was dying to know if she had succeeded in getting the promotion at the publishing house.

Laura placed Anne’s letter on her lap and pulled Miss Hyde’s from its envelope, unfolding it. An array of dizzying, dancing letters filled the page.

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To Miss Pendleton,

Hello. Have you been well? I haven’t been able to reply for the past two weeks. To be honest, I haven’t had the presence of mind. Miss Pendleton, I am in a situation where I cannot tell if I am awake or dreaming. If you were here right now, I’d ask you to jab the back of my hand with a fork to prove it’s real!

As you can see from the envelope, I am in Bath!

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Startled, Laura checked the envelope. Above the sender’s name, ‘Jane Hyde,’ was written ‘The Laurelia Hotel’ in the spa city of Bath.

*Why is Miss Hyde in a resort town when she should be at the publishing house in London?*

Her heart thumping with a mix of curiosity and anxiety, Laura unfolded the letter once more.

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Surprised, aren’t you? Are you worried that I made a mistake and got fired, and now I'm down in Bath, squandering all my savings on horse racing and gambling?

Not in the slightest. I am diligently at work. Let me tell you how it all happened!

It was ten days ago. I was at my desk across from the editor, typing up a contract, enveloped in the thick pipe smoke he was puffing out.

Then, without any warning, *bang!* The office door flew open. The editor, who had been dazedly puffing on his pipe, fell right out of his chair.

The door was hanging half off its hinges. A woman stood in the doorway. She was a petite woman with long, wavy black hair. She wore a neat black riding habit and black boots, and she was leaning on a black cane that looked like a sword.

She was as magnificent as the goddess Artemis from Greek mythology. And just as beautiful. Her dark eyes glittered with brilliance, and her sun-kissed skin, her nose, her lips—they were all in such perfect harmony. And that slender figure…

Anyway, I just stared at her, dumbfounded. The beautiful woman was fuming, absolutely furious. In her hand was a book, the African travelogue by Mary Rotis, published by our house.

She approached the editor’s desk. I noticed from her gait that she had a slight limp in one leg.

As soon as she reached the desk, she shouted at the editor, who was still sprawled on the floor.

‘When on earth did I write a sentence like this in my manuscript!’

The editor stared blankly at the woman before him, then shot up as if he’d been electrocuted and bowed his head low.

‘Miss Rotis. Good day!’

‘It is not a good day. Didn’t you tell me six years ago to just leave it to you? Didn’t you promise to transfer my writing to the page without changing a single word! Say something, Mr. Shallow!’

‘O-of course. And that’s why the book turned out so perfectly, is it not—’

‘Mr. Shallow!’

‘Ah, Miss Hyde. Quickly now, fetch a cup of warm tea.’

I hurried out to prepare the tea. The editor was in a tight spot, but my heart was racing with excitement. Just imagine, Miss Pendleton. How long I had dreamed of a moment like this. I have been a fan of Mary Rotis ever since I first read her book at the age of twenty. And there she was, appearing before my very eyes—*poof!* No, *bang!* My hands were trembling so much as I prepared the tea that I think more leaves ended up on the counter than in the cup.

When I returned to the office with tea and some simple biscuits, the editor was pacing about, and Miss Rotis was seated in the chair opposite his desk. She was flipping through a book—the most recently published travelogue on the Qing dynasty. The very manuscript I was proofreading when you visited, Miss Pendleton!

I placed the tea on their respective desks and stood in a corner of the office, watching them. The editor was tugging at his mustache, anxiously eyeing Miss Rotis, and I was doing the same. If Miss Rotis, who had already broken the door, were to lose her temper again, who knew what she might break next?

After about twenty minutes, Miss Rotis looked up. She slapped the book down on the desk.

‘So, who worked on this manuscript?’

‘A typist who works under me. Here, Miss Hyde, come over here.’

I obediently followed the editor’s command and went to stand before Miss Rotis. She looked me up and down before her eyes fixed on mine. Her gaze pierced my heart like a flying spear. It was so intense.

‘How old are you?’

I told her my age. She nodded and then asked how long I had been doing this work and even where I lived. It felt a bit like an interrogation, but I answered everything without hesitation. I probably would have even answered honestly if she had asked who I disliked most in the world. ‘My mother,’ I would have said.

Miss Rotis listened to my answers for a moment, then, with a rather displeased expression, she spoke.

‘To think this publishing house couldn’t manage what a fledgling like this can. How utterly ridiculous. It makes me question whether I should continue publishing my books here.’

‘M-Miss Rotis!’

The editor’s face went pale as he cried out. But Miss Rotis’s gaze remained fixed only on me. A cold sweat ran down my back. It was a relief that she was pleased with my proofreading, but if Miss Rotis were to withdraw her contract, our publishing house would surely go bankrupt.

Miss Rotis held all our fates in her hands as she looked at me. I looked back at her. Her eyes were gray, like yours, Miss Pendleton. The shade was almost identical. But unlike your gentle eyes, hers were sharp and feline. *They’d be quite terrifying to see at night,* I thought. But they were eyes I didn’t want to look away from. They were incredibly captivating.

For a moment, we just looked at each other. She studied me carefully, then let out a small smirk. Then she said.

‘Mr. Shallow. I have a condition for continuing to publish my books with you.’

Mr. Shallow immediately asked what it was. In the next moment, to my utter astonishment, Miss Rotis pointed at me with the black cane she was holding.

‘Give me Miss Hyde as my secretary.’