Chapter 126
#<Episode 126>
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To Ian Dalton,
Knowing you wouldn't open a letter without checking the sender, you're well aware this is William. I'll skip the pleasantries. I'm not at all curious about your well-being.
I asked Janet to attend every tea party immediately after returning from that pretentious hunting gathering you hosted. As a result, I learned that the main topic of conversation at every tea party in London is that you and Miss Lance are already engaged.
Ian Dalton, do you even realize what you've done to Miss Lance?
Do you think it's acceptable to ruin another lady's reputation to win your love?
I'm extremely disappointed in you because of this. I'm seriously considering ending our friendship. If you don't rectify this situation, I won't say a single word to you until the day I die.
Come up to London at once. Either propose to Miss Lance, or officially declare that you used her to win the heart of another lady. Do whatever it takes to save Miss Lance. That's the only way you can prove you have any honor left.
Ian Dalton, it's not just the person you love who is a precious being. Those seemingly frivolous ladies you despise so much are equally precious creations of God.
I hope that you learn that fact from this opportunity, you arrogant and selfish man.
Sincerely,
Once your friend,
William Fairfax.
ps. I recently received a letter from Miss Hyde. Miss Pendleton, or rather Miss Sheldon, has started working as a translator. She can now earn far more than the governess salary you offered if she puts her mind to it. She can now live comfortably on her own. So, stop loitering around Miss Pendleton. My sister tells me she's renting a space in a hat shop's warehouse. Are you out of your mind?
I pity Miss Pendleton for being involved with someone like you, I truly pity her.
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As Ian read through the letter, his expression grew increasingly serious.
William had never scolded him in such a grave tone. Since childhood, William, with his generous heart, had been a kind friend who brushed off most things with a laugh. Yet, here he was, rebuking him with threats of ending their friendship.
If William hadn't added the postscript, he might have pondered more deeply about Miss Lance's feelings and situation, something he had never really considered before.
However, the few lines at the end completely erased Miss Lance, the main point of the letter, from Ian's mind.
'Laura has become a translator?'
He wondered how Laura, who was enjoying sightseeing in Bath, could suddenly become a translator. But since William had even mentioned Miss Hyde's name, it must be true.
It was a good thing for Laura. She was intelligent and had a great aptitude for languages. Moreover, she loved books, so it was a perfect job for her.
Laura's outstanding intellect was one of the reasons he loved her, a precious treasure that endlessly fascinated him. The opportunity for her to take her abilities out of the treasure chest was a happy thing not only for her but also for Ian himself.
However, the possibility that she could earn far more than a governess's salary made him very disconcerted. Especially in this situation where it was unclear whether Laura would return to Yorkshire.
'She has no reason to come back. She's found a job where she can earn more money with less hardship than forcing Latin verbs into those little rascals. She... she...'
He dropped the letter and covered his face with both hands.
'She might forget me now and go somewhere else.'
He slid down the wall, collapsing to the floor. Fear swirled around him like dust in the warehouse, and soon despair settled on his shoulders.
* * *
Autumn in London had lost the extravagant pleasures of the social season, but it had its own special charm.
The splendid Four-wheeled carriage speeding along the carriage roads and the ladies dressed to the nines strolling through Hyde Park had all departed for resort towns. Now it was the time for native Londoners. They were all sophisticated and relaxed middle-class people, true Londoners who enjoyed London itself.
Mr. Fairfax loved London during this time. Although he always had to carry an umbrella due to the dreary weather, the streets covered with fallen leaves had a poetic melancholy, and the low-saturation buildings unique to England revealed their true dignity in the autumn's solitude.
Mr. Fairfax often took walks during this time. Wearing a Frock coat with the collar turned up over a sweater knitted by his sister Janet, he would walk the streets of London, refreshing his mind, which was busy with business.
That day, too, he was walking the streets of London, with the collar of his coat turned up and a black umbrella in hand. However, he could not fully enjoy the pleasure that his usual walks gave him.
He was on his way back from the post office, hoping that a letter from his friend Ian Dalton had arrived.
But the letter had not come. It had been a week since he had sent the letter warning of their break-up.
'Bad fellow. A man who disgraces all men. A scoundrel who doesn't know honor.'
He cursed his friend inwardly. He was the one who had to listen to all sorts of complaints from Ian and put up with his obnoxious arrogance since they were linked as in-laws at the age of eight. However, Mr. Fairfax was a naturally optimistic person, so he found Ian Dalton amusing and generously embraced him.
But now it was different. He was very angry with Ian Dalton.
He passed Regent's Park and entered a nearby upscale residential area, one of the wealthy neighborhoods densely populated with the grand mansions of aristocrats and gentry residing in London.
Soon, a luxurious mansion built of marble came into view. A nameplate with the Lance family name was hung on the gate of the house. He stood in front of the house.
'Will they refuse me again today?'
He stood there, looking at the gate with a heavy heart.
After the unfortunate incident that occurred in Whitefield a month ago, Mr. Fairfax accompanied Miss Lance, who was trying to take the night train alone, and escorted her to London. No conversation passed between the two, but he could feel how heartbroken Miss Lance was.
His heart ached. Why hadn't he noticed sooner? If he had paid a little more attention, he would have known where her heart was headed.
For women, the age of twenty was often considered the marrying age. But it was still a young and innocent age. She had heard with her own ears that the man she loved wanted another woman, even in the presence of a third party. He couldn't even begin to imagine the hurt Miss Lance must have felt.
And the rumors that had been circulating lately were enough to make Miss Lance's wounds fester and burst.
The rumor of Miss Lance and Ian Dalton's engagement seemed to be the biggest topic of conversation this social season. But since the hunting gathering in Whitefield, the nature of the rumors had changed, saying that Miss Lance had been abandoned by her fiancé.
Unfortunately, Miss Lance had failed to exercise restraint in an environment full of eyes watching the two of them. Throughout the hunting gathering, she had followed Ian Dalton around, acting coquettishly towards him, and becoming anxious when he was out of sight.
In comparison, Ian Dalton's reaction had been cold. It was no wonder that the nature of the rumors had changed.
Also, the fact that Ian Dalton had openly introduced Miss Pendleton as a member of his family in front of the London aristocracy had also played a part.
People began to whisper that Miss Lance must have had her fiancé stolen by Miss Pendleton. That was a more unfavorable rumor for Miss Lance than the broken engagement itself.
In the marriage market, Miss Pendleton's value was so low that she should have been overwhelmed by the courtship of old gentlemen. It was lamentable, but in the marriage market, where money and family were the only scales for evaluating people, Miss Pendleton was an infinitely insignificant being.
And yet, Miss Lance had her fiancé stolen by such a Miss Pendleton. Gentlemen and matchmakers were convinced that there was something flawed about Miss Lance, and the ladies were gloating over the downfall of a beautiful competitor.
In the social world, the only job market for aristocratic ladies, Miss Lance's value had plummeted to the bottom.
Mr. Fairfax had been worried about Miss Lance lately and couldn't focus on his work. He was worried that the sensitive Miss Lance might make an extreme choice. He wanted to believe that she wouldn't be such a reckless lady, but it was a common occurrence for ladies caught up in unpleasant rumors to give up on life.
He often advised Janet to visit Miss Lance. Janet, who still worshiped Miss Lance, diligently visited the Lance residence. However, the Lance family had stopped holding tea times altogether and did not receive visitors.
After failing several times, Miss Janet became offended and began to hang out with other friends. Even when Mr. Fairfax persuaded her to visit the Lance residence one more time, she waved her hand and went shopping at Harrods or went to the opera with her friends.
Eventually, Mr. Fairfax ended up visiting the Lance family himself.
He didn't know if he would be a comfort to her, but he still wanted to tell her. That Miss Lance, you are still a lady who shines like a star to me, and my heart still thinks of you as a precious friend.
Mr. Fairfax passed through the gate and knocked on the doorknob. A middle-aged maid came out. He told her that he had come to visit Miss Lance.
Even as he spoke, he had no particular expectations. It was already his third visit. Each time, the maid had said that they were not receiving visitors, and he had to leave a visiting card and leave.
But today was different.
"Please come in, sir."
The maid led him into the house. He was surprised and asked the maid.
"Has the mistress started socializing again?"
"She is still not receiving visitors. However, Miss Dora saw William Fairfax's visiting card and told me to escort you to the drawing room next time you came."
Mr. Fairfax was led to the drawing room. He sat on the sofa and waited for Miss Lance. Soon, Miss Lance, wearing a simple dress with lavender embroidered densely, entered the drawing room.
Unexpectedly, there was no trace of despair on Miss Lance's face. She had lost a little weight, but she didn't look pale, and there were no shadows under her eyes.
"Welcome, Mr. Fairfax."
Miss Lance smiled slightly and familiarly extended her hand. Mr. Fairfax kissed the back of her hand.
"It's a pleasure to see you, Miss Lance."
"Likewise. I'm sorry for making you fail three times. My mother hates seeing visiting cards, so the maid Jenny always burns them."
"Why visiting cards?"
Miss Lance sat across from Mr. Fairfax and said.
"Lately, old gentlemen keep coming to our house with gifts. My mother likes to have wealthy old gentlemen as friends. But she knows that they are after me, so she has stopped socializing altogether."
Mr. Fairfax frowned. It seemed that old gentlemen looking for a remarriage were smelling the scent like ghosts and flocking to Miss Lance, whose reputation had declined, to court her.
