Chapter 12
<Chapter 12> Deepening Friendship (1)
Miss Lance refuted her mother's opinions several times, but she was secretly tempted by the idea that he was smitten with her.
Barely escaping her mother's grasp, Miss Lance went up to her room, changed her clothes with the help of her maid, and sat at her dressing table to have her hair done. A large mirror hung on the dressing table, and Miss Lance could see her own image reflected in it.
Lustrous light brown hair, clear sky-blue eyes, and distinct, lovely features in a vivid rose-tinted face. Even though she saw it every day, a sweet vanity bloomed as if she were seeing it for the first time. A vanity that could not be defeated even by the discernment she had always tried to maintain.
After gazing at herself in the mirror for a long time, Miss Lance's excited thoughts turned to Ian Dalton, who had visited her home today.
Could he really like her? Really? On what basis?
She carefully recalled the times she had met Mr. Dalton over the past two days. She remembered making eye contact with him at least three times, and she recalled him smiling at her each time.
That was exactly the truth. But as memories often do, they were distorted or embellished according to her current mood.
Miss Lance remembered the courtesy he had shown as the joy of seeing a lady he had fallen in love with at first sight. It was the very expression that most of the gentlemen who had met her since her debut into society had worn.
Her cheeks flushed. Ian Dalton. That great man had also become one of her admirers. She was so delighted that her body was twisting with joy.
Miss Lance dismissed her maid and sat at her dressing table for a long time. And she thought deeply about Ian Dalton as a marriage prospect. Her admirers were all prominent men.
The eldest son of a politician. The eldest son of a Count's family. But as her mother said, England was in a recession, and even the nobles were not free from the threat of bankruptcy.
The eldest sons who inherited their families were looking overseas for women with large dowries to protect their families, and the younger sons who were kicked out into the world without a penny from their families were openly desperate to marry women with large dowries to escape their fate.
Thinking about reality, Mr. Dalton's value felt much higher. He was a gentleman, but a head of a family like his, which had been around for over 400 years, was more precious than ten truckloads of Dukes in this era of title inflation. Moreover, he was the eldest son who had inherited all his assets, and he had considerable assets in addition to the inherited land and mansion.
Miss Lance thought about Whitefield, the place she had heard from him, until the candle was burned out, imagined her married life with him ('He will surely be a kind husband. A man that handsome can't have a bad temper.'), and gave names to each of the children who resembled him and herself evenly. And by the time she went to bed, she was excited about the thought of walking down the aisle with him within the year.
* * *
After that, Miss Lance and Mrs. Lance were keenly aware of Mr. Dalton's movements. Which Balls he attended and which family's Formal dinners he attended.
For more than half a month after Ian Dalton first appeared in London society, the only social gatherings he attended were Tea parties at Lady Abigail Pendleton's house and occasionally Formal dinners with Miss Pendleton's friends. He seemed to have no interest in operas, Concerts, or shopping in the shopping district.
Miss Lance was disappointed because she had been dreaming of meeting Mr. Dalton by chance in such places, but the experienced Mrs. Lance saw Mr. Dalton's actions as a green light.
Miss Pendleton was an old maid past her prime, but she was still the best matchmaker in London, having produced ten couples who perfectly matched the conditions over the years. Ian Dalton's close relationship with her could be interpreted as an intention to be introduced to London ladies through Miss Pendleton and find a bride among them.
However, if Miss Pendleton had heard Mrs. Lance's reasoning, she would have responded with a skeptical smile. In Miss Pendleton's view, Mr. Dalton was not at all interested in finding a bride.
After the two met for the first time at the Ball, he never failed to visit the Pendleton family's Tea parties and Formal dinner parties. Miss Pendleton introduced him to her friends, and Mr. Dalton spent time with them.
However, he had never shown any signs of being charmed by the ladies gathered there. He would simply respond politely to the ladies' jokes and then approach Miss Pendleton, who was usually playing the piano, and quietly listen to her music.
And when the song was over, he would ask for a request or ask her to talk to him.
For half a month, he hovered around her at the Pendleton's house like that.
Miss Pendleton had now come to the conclusion that he was more interested in making friends than in finding love. As Miss Pendleton, she couldn't help but be happy that there was someone who needed her friendship.
The weather in London was fickle. It was clear all morning, but suddenly gloomy dark clouds would gather and rain would pour down so much that the ground would become muddy. In such cases, the scheduled Tea party would naturally be canceled.
People would not show up at all, or even if they did, they would leave early. On such days, Lady Abigail's health would also deteriorate, and she would go up to her room early, and Miss Pendleton would go to the study to read or study. But Mr. Dalton always came to the Tea party at the appointed time.
Each time, Miss Pendleton was sorry that she could not provide him with a suitable friend, but Mr. Dalton did not seem to care about the absence of other guests.
Miss Pendleton would take him to the fireplace, seat him, and prepare warm tea and simple refreshments. And she would talk to him for hours until the tea time was over.
At first, they talked about life in London, but Miss Pendleton realized that Mr. Dalton was not very interested in that subject and asked other questions. About his Estate, Whitefield, and life there.
At first, she was worried that she had asked about his personal matters too quickly, but soon she realized that it was a suitable topic for conversation. He told her about his life more frankly than she had expected.
His land, Whitefield, was a vast Estate surrounded by fertile forests and fields, which had been thoroughly managed by his ancestors and passed down to him in its dazzling beauty.
His house, Whitefield Hall, was located on a gentle hill in the middle of the Estate. Looking out through the windows, one could see at a glance the forest of white birches, perfectly suited to the name Whitefield, and the fields where farmers were farming.
Mr. Dalton's tone in describing his home was simple and warm. And there was love in it. Affection for his land, Whitefield. Miss Pendleton was fascinated by that affection and asked him several questions.
He noticed that Miss Pendleton was sincerely listening to his story and enjoying it. He continued the story with a soft smile.
He told her about the yeoman farmers and tenant farmers who farmed on his Estate.
Their names, the circumstances of their farms, and their families. What their families did with their time, how they earned income, and how they raised and educated their children.
Miss Pendleton was surprised to hear his words. There were more than thirty farms on his Estate, but he was aware of all the circumstances of the farms. That meant that he was not hiring a land agent but managing his Estate himself.
Most of the nobles in England did not even know how many farms were on their land. To them, taking care of their Estate was too trivial compared to hunting in groups in hunting grounds or enjoying pleasure in resort spas.
But Mr. Dalton not only took care of his Estate himself but also seemed to be closely connected with the farmers. In a relationship that was closer than business partners, like friends.
Miss Pendleton felt her heart warming as she listened to his story. Perhaps there were not many landowners in England who had this much affection for their land. Miss Pendleton offered him more tea. And she told him that she would like to see Whitefield.
"If it's such a beautiful land, it would give me, a city woman tired of city life, fresh inspiration."
"London, where Miss Pendleton is, is a cutting-edge, sophisticated space. It's glamorous, vibrant, and full of resources. But I can't flatter you by saying that this place where Miss Pendleton is is better than the place I came from. If you know even a little about the forest of Whitefield, you can never say such a thing, even as a joke. I don't want to act like a snob who's always eager to brag about what he has, but I can't help it."
"You don't have to hold back. Stories about forests and trees are as fragrant as reading a good essay to a city woman like me who always has to live among people. Keep going. Until I can close my eyes and see the scenery as clearly as if it were in Mr. Dalton's head, even if I can't see Whitefield in person."
Mr. Dalton's expression softened at Miss Pendleton's words.
"No matter how much I say, I won't be able to express it. My vocabulary is too short and insignificant to say all that beauty. But I'll show you something else. A small painting that can decorate the drawing room."
"Oh, that would be a very welcome gift. I suppose you have a servant at home who is good at painting?"
"Well, I guess you could say that. If you consider a part of my body as a servant."
Miss Pendleton was surprised.
"Do you paint?"
"I learned a little when I was young."
Miss Pendleton felt intrigued. Art education was rarely provided to sons, so it was a strange thing. But Mr. Dalton did not elaborate on it and changed the subject.
"It's a pity that I didn't bring the sketchbook I always carry with me, or I could have shown you Whitefield and introduced you to my troublesome nephews at the same time."
"Ah, your sister's children?"
"That's right."
Children. It was a topic as fresh as forests and valleys. Miss Pendleton began to ask him a few questions about his nephews, and soon, the diligent landowner became a loving uncle.
He had his first nephew before he was even eight years old. It was the son of his sister, who was fifteen years older than him.
The name of his first nephew was Henry Fairfax. When that child was born, Mr. Dalton himself could only watch the child wrapped in swaddling clothes. It was a natural thing. Adults would never allow a child to hold a child.
After that, Mr. Dalton learned to ride and frequently visited Dunville Park, where his sister lived.
"Looking down at Henry lying in the cradle was more enjoyable than playing cards with William. After he grew up a bit, he always followed us around. Riding, fishing, running, he always tried to be with us."
