Chapter 11
<Chapter 11> The Strange Man, Ian Dalton (4)
Miss Pendleton shook her head.
"Officially, it's my grandmother who hosts."
"Then, Miss Pendleton must often be absent?"
"No. Due to my grandmother's health, I'm in charge of the overall proceedings. I can't absent myself even if I wanted to."
"I see."
Mr. Dalton nodded quietly and then spoke in a clearer voice.
"I'll be sure to visit soon. Would tomorrow be convenient?"
Miss Pendleton was surprised by his unexpectedly proactive attitude and shook her head.
"Ah, my grandmother's doctor is coming tomorrow. The day after tomorrow would be better."
"Very well. I'll visit the day after tomorrow."
Miss Pendleton nodded and extended her hand.
"Then, I'll look forward to our next meeting."
Mr. Dalton took her hand and looked down at it for a moment. Then, he slowly lowered his head and kissed the back of her hand.
"Return in comfort, Miss Pendleton."
He held her hand and said goodbye in a resonant voice. However, he released her hand two or three beats later than the proper timing.
Miss Pendleton was puzzled but soon thought that he was simply unfamiliar with social etiquette. She gave him a light smile and had her carriage depart.
She assumed that he would return to the Ball as soon as her carriage left, so she completely averted her gaze from him as soon as the carriage started moving. Therefore, she did not know that Mr. Dalton, left behind, stood there watching the carriage until she disappeared.
That night, Miss Pendleton knelt beside her bed as usual before going to sleep. She thanked God for allowing her to meet her new friend, Mr. Dalton, and prayed that he would find a good match in London and enjoy domestic happiness.
As always, her prayer was sincere. But she did not know how that prayer would be fulfilled in the future.
* * *
Thanks to Mrs. Lance's persistent efforts, the evening after the Ball, Mr. Dalton found himself sitting across from Miss Dora Lance in the Lance family's Townhouse dining room, partaking in a Formal dinner.
Sir Lance's Formal dinners had been famous in London for quite some time. Ostensibly, this was due to the advantage of enjoying a splendid Formal dinner menu and the smile of his beautiful daughter, Miss Dora Lance.
However, there was a bigger reason for the openly rumored fame: Sir Lance was notoriously selective about his guests.
Sir Lance was a man with an extraordinary attachment to his title and family. Therefore, to share a meal with those who bore the Lance name, one had to be at least a Baron of equal status, and if one did not have a title, one had to have a family name to match.
Therefore, even before the appetizers were served, Sir Lance began to grill Mr. Dalton about his Estate and how old his family was, unaware that he was violating the very etiquette he valued so much.
Thanks to his persistent efforts, it was revealed before the main course was served that Whitefield's original name was Baylon Abbey and that it had been owned by the Dalton family since the Reformation in the 1500s. Only then was Sir Lance relieved that his wife had not invited the wrong guest.
He began to tell him the story of his great-grandfather, who first obtained the title of Baron, with a sense of camaraderie as the head of a family with a distinguished lineage.
Miss Lance blushed at her father's drawn-out boasting. The Lance family had only obtained a title less than 200 years ago, and it was not due to any great merit but simply due to political circumstances.
Yet, he dared to boast about his family to the head of the Dalton family, who had been a major landowner in Yorkshire for nearly 400 years. It was an act that was not only embarrassing but even rude.
However, Mr. Dalton listened quietly to whatever he babbled on about and behaved with appropriate courtesy to Miss Lance and Mrs. Lance. Therefore, none of them realized that he politely declined Sir Lance's offer of a cigar after the meal and hurried home because he was disgusted with the greasy food and Sir Lance's arrogance and wanted to escape as soon as possible.
After Sir Lance went to his study, pleased to have met a young man he liked so much after a long time, Mrs. Lance took Miss Lance's hand as she was about to go up to her room, gleefully thinking of boasting to her peers that she had invited Ian Dalton to a Formal dinner, and led her to the living room.
Then, she sat her beautiful daughter next to her, caressed her hand, and subtly brought up the topic.
"Honey, wasn't Mr. Dalton very handsome?"
Her daughter enthusiastically agreed.
"Yes, Mom. He's the most handsome man I've ever seen in London!"
"Yes, I think so too. With his looks and wealth, there must have been dozens of spinsters rushing to get him, but he's still unmarried. It's a gift from God. You should never skip the tithe, no matter how much money you have to spend. Now, Dora, let's get him to propose before this social season ends."
Miss Lance, who had not yet thought that far, looked at her mother with wide eyes.
"But I've only seen Mr. Dalton twice. Besides, he doesn't have a title, does he? I think Dad will dislike that."
"Honey, do you know any nobles among the so-called nobles who are in good financial shape these days? The money is drying up more and more due to the recession. It's hard to find a single eligible bachelor in London these days who hasn't mortgaged his land or rented out his mansion. That eldest son of Marquess Barden, who you danced with so often last time, you know. The one who was said to have good dance moves and was gentle. Didn't his rural Estate go up for auction? How can they lose land that has been passed down for generations because of how they manage their money?"
Mrs. Lance clicked her tongue.
"Compared to that, how wonderful is Mr. Dalton? Whitefield itself is a real Estate with a manor, and the forest is said to be great for hunting. Moreover, as soon as he inherited the family after his father passed away, he sold what he could sell and reorganized what he could reorganize, and he prepared everything that could make money, such as profitable mines, railway bonds, stocks, and buildings. The head of the family has to be that smart for the family to survive. If I had to pick one family in England that would never go bankrupt, it would be the Dalton family."
Miss Lance asked, half dazed.
"Mom, Mr. Dalton didn't say a word about that today. Where did you get all that information?"
Mrs. Lance replied without a hint of embarrassment.
"Your aunt, who married into Yorkshire, found out by asking around the neighborhood. There are many spinsters in that neighborhood who need to get married, so they always talk about Ian Dalton when they get together."
Miss Lance sighed and looked at her mother's face. If her father pursued titles, her mother was a more realistic believer in material things. Miss Lance once again realized how fortunate she was not to resemble her parents and expressed her noble position.
"Mom, I like Mr. Dalton's charm and gentlemanly qualities. I don't think beyond that. Money and land are, well, realistic matters, so I can't ignore them completely, but I won't marry without a genuine attraction."
Mrs. Lance, who had lived her whole life tightening her belt due to her husband's wasteful spending habits despite his lack of ability, found her daughter's immaturity cute but also just as pathetic.
"So, when do you think you'll feel that genuine attraction to Mr. Dalton?"
"I told you, I've only seen Mr. Dalton twice!"
"Whether it's twice or twenty times, it doesn't change the fact that he's handsome, rich, and unmarried. Oh, one thing could change. While you're waiting for that genuine attraction of yours, another spinster might become Mrs. Dalton. And let me tell you, that spinster will probably be a lady from a Duke, Marquess, or Count family. Her dowry will be about three times yours. In this age of bachelor famine, Mr. Dalton can choose any lady in London who has better conditions than us. There are plenty of spinsters who need to get married, but only a handful of eldest sons inherit the property."
Miss Lance's cheeks grew redder as Mrs. Lance spoke. Mrs. Lance realized, 'Oops.' She had forgotten that her way of thinking, which always followed the flow of pounds, did not work at all for her daughter.
She immediately changed her course to a method that would work better for her daughter: fanning her vanity.
"Honey, don't make that face. It makes your face look wrinkled. A pretty spinster like you should always smile. Smile like you did at the Ball yesterday. Mr. Dalton was captivated by that smile."
"Oh, Mom. What captivation? He was just being polite to me."
"No, honey! His eyes sparkled several times when he looked at you. At first, he was mesmerized by your angelic face, and then every time you turned your gaze elsewhere, he scanned all your attractive parts. Your pretty hair, your fair shoulders, your small and dainty hands. And he realized that there wasn't a single thing about you that wasn't beautiful, so he couldn't take his eyes off you, could he?"
Miss Lance's expression softened as she listened to her mother's words. But her discernment was not yet paralyzed by vanity.
"But how could someone who was fascinated by me not ask me to waltz that day? After Miss Pendleton went home, he just said goodbye and left. I rejected other gentlemen's requests and waited to dance with him."
"Honey, are you saying that even after seeing Mr. Dalton waltz with Miss Pendleton?"
"Ah, well, he was too clumsy at waltzing. I hate men who can't dance."
"His mother passed away early, and he was raised by his older sister, who is much older than him. Poor thing. He's not used to young women, so he can only relax with an old spinster like Miss Pendleton."
"Mom, you said I shouldn't call Miss Pendleton an old spinster?"
"That's just not in front of other people. It's okay between us."
Miss Lance found it very strange that her mother, who always treated her like a child, treated her like the surrounding ladies when she gossiped about others.
For more than half an hour after that, Mrs. Lance paralyzed Miss Lance's reason and fueled her emotions with words as sweet as honey.
He's definitely fallen for you, he's already mentally your slave, if you give him a few chances, you'll be Mrs. Dalton before this summer comes, and so on.
It was a brainwashing that would make even someone with a firm heart and clear judgment feel dazed, and it was bound to be a fatal encouragement to a spinster whose vanity had taken root like weeds in various parts of her mind due to the attention she had received in society.
