Chapter 143
#<Episode 143>
He put his hands in his gown pockets and continued his train of thought.
‘When spring comes, I’ll gather the servants and have them sweep and clean the mansion. And fulfill our social responsibilities too. Once the snow melts, I’ll visit the Parsonage and the landowners. I’ll return to work, and go back to church. And to my nephews and nieces whom I invited to Whitefield Hall….’
He stood up abruptly. The headache that had been quiet for a while came rushing back.
He had to tell his nephews and nieces that Sheldon Teacher wouldn’t be coming back. That was why he had decided to invite the children to Whitefield Hall.
He felt terrible. Ian was a stern uncle, but he always tried not to hurt the children’s feelings when disciplining them. To him, his nephews and nieces were treasures he would protect with his life (though he would never admit it even if a knife was held to his throat).
And yet, he was about to inflict on those precious children the same wound he had suffered. The same kind of wound he felt when he lost Sheldon Teacher.
He rubbed his face roughly. The more he thought, the more he could only sigh or cry.
He turned back to the large window.
Whenever his mind became complicated, he would look down at Whitefield. The scenery didn’t move him as much as it used to, but it still offered some comfort.
He stood before the window and scanned Whitefield with his eyes, piece by piece. The forest where he had walked hand-in-hand with his sister as a child. The edge of the forest where he had waited for his father to return late. The field where he had sat side-by-side with Sheldon Teacher, sharing countless stories.
Ian Dalton’s world, filled with precious and warm stories.
‘Protecting this place is my reason to live.’
He smiled wistfully.
‘From now on, this place will be my comfort. Whitefield Hall has memories. It will remind me of the happiness I once had as I grow old alone. Of my childhood when I had a family. Someday, when I am close to death, I will find a suitable successor within the eighth degree of kinship and pass it on. Someone good who will manage and protect this place well.’
Thinking like this made him feel like he was sixty-one years old, not thirty-one. He scoffed at himself, thinking it was the perfect age for the lethargy he was feeling.
Ian looked down at Whitefield and thought of another memory. The time he had spent walking around Whitefield with Laura. The cabin they had run into to escape the rain. The moment he had boasted to her about the apple tree he had grown himself and picked fresh fruit to give her.
He would remember the summer and autumn of his thirtieth year for the rest of his life.
‘Even though I didn’t win her love, she gave me so much. Friendship, time, and her heart… Someday, I will be able to think of her without pain. Someday, I will only feel grateful to her for the memories she gave me. Someday.’
He smiled with a pale face. And then, he slowly turned his gaze away from Whitefield Hall to return to the fireplace.
At that moment, something caught his eye.
At the edge of the forest, someone was walking across the small bridge built to cross the stream. They were walking unsteadily, wrapped in a thick scarf around their head and face, carrying a heavy bag.
He immediately recognized that the person was a woman. He could see the hem of a green plaid skirt beneath the cloak.
‘A servant sent on an errand?’
He felt sympathy for the woman.
‘If they were going to send someone on an errand, they should have sent a young male servant with good stamina. How could they make a female servant travel on a road where the snow is piled up to her knees?’
He clicked his tongue, watching the woman struggling to cross the bridge and climb the field. But then, the next moment, a fierce winter wind blew across the field. It was so strong that all the trees swayed.
Because of that, the woman’s tightly wrapped scarf slipped off her head.
Under the sunlight, the hair that had been hidden by the shabby scarf was revealed. It was a brilliant sunset color.
That hue…
‘Laura?’
That couldn’t be. What business would she have here, in this place where she had no reason to be? Especially in this cold, remote countryside with such terrible roads.
But his gaze stubbornly watched the woman, filled with a desperate desire to deny the denial.
The woman continued to trudge up the field, where the snow that the servants had tired of clearing was piled up to her knees.
She even stopped for a moment. She put down her luggage, placed her hands on her knees, and heaved her shoulders as she panted. But soon, she picked up her bag again and climbed the hill.
Diligently and strongly.
The woman’s tireless steps. Those steps were heading towards Whitefield Hall.
He couldn’t bear it any longer. He had to confirm the identity of that woman. He rushed out of the room. He ran down the hallway, skipping four or five steps at a time. The servants who were cleaning screamed at the sight of their master running downstairs in his pajamas and gown, looking like he had lost his mind, but he heard nothing.
Laura might be coming. Right to me.
That was all that mattered to Ian. Even if the whole world ended right now, it wouldn’t affect him in the slightest. What did anything matter when the woman he loved might be braving the snow to come to him?
He threw open the front door. As befitting a countryside where winter was lazily retreating, the air was as cold as midwinter.
He ran through the garden wearing only indoor slippers. Soon, he kicked them off as they hindered his running.
After passing through the garden, where the snow had been cleared to some extent, he came to a snow-covered field. He even took off his gown and ran barefoot, sinking deep into the snow.
How far had he walked? At the bottom of the slope, he could vaguely see the figure of the woman he was looking for.
The more he ran, and the more she walked unsteadily, the clearer her figure became.
Sunset-colored auburn hair. A small face. A slender and upright figure.
In the woman’s figure, he found the key to happiness that he had believed he had lost.
“Laura!”
The woman, who had been struggling to pull the trunk, stopped abruptly. And looked up at the slope in front of her.
Gray eyes found him.
The woman stood still like a snowman. He slid down the slope as if he were falling. White breaths like a steam locomotive were repeatedly exhaled from his mouth.
He stood before Laura.
Laura was a mess overall. Her hair was soaked with sweat and snow, and her face was frozen red in a rustic hue. The hem of her clothes was wet from below her hips from wading through the snow, and the ends were stained with mud, making her look utterly miserable.
But in Ian’s eyes, even Cleopatra, half-naked and sailing towards Antonius on a ship full of gold and jewels, could not compare to her.
He stared down at Laura as if he were possessed. He was afraid that he was seeing a hallucination. Maybe it was a dream. He secretly pinched the palm of his hand with his fingernails. It stung. At least it wasn’t a dream.
Finally, Laura’s lips parted.
“Ian.”
His heart lurched. She had called him only by his name.
“The driver of the chartered carriage said that I would have to wait at least two weeks for the roads to thaw and offered to take me to a nearby inn. He dissuaded me five times from unloading my luggage. But I couldn’t wait. I had to see you as soon as possible.”
Laura’s voice was calm. It was a voice with a magical power that made the listener calm as well.
Ian, who had been out of his mind, suddenly became calm. He nodded with a serious face.
Laura continued.
“As I walked through the snowy path, I suddenly became afraid. What if you no longer loved me during the long winter? What if you were embarrassed rather than happy to see me, who had come so recklessly?”
Laura shook her head.
“It didn’t matter. Even if the world collapsed, I had to say these words.”
Ian swallowed hard. Laura was Ian’s goddess of fate. The words that would come from her lips would judge his destiny.
Laura took a step closer to him. And gave him the most gentle, dignified, warm, and Laura-like smile.
“Ian, will you marry me?”
He couldn’t say anything. His whole body seemed to have frozen.
Laura opened her mouth again.
“Will you accept me as your partner?”
Laura closed her mouth. And waited for his answer.
Ian’s body slowly began to tremble. The sudden miracle created a drug-like pleasure.
She had proposed to him. She had braved the snow to come all the way here to become his partner.
Tears slowly flowed from his eyes.
Ian quickly raised his hand to wipe away the tears, but Laura was faster. She reached out and gently wiped his eyes.
“Laura…”
Laura smiled brightly and asked back, “Yes?” It was such a lovely response.
He couldn’t resist and wrapped his arms tightly around Laura’s slender waist. The two bodies were so close that there was not even room for a needle to fit between them. The distance between their faces became less than a hand span.
He looked down at Laura and whispered.
“I will give you love, all the love I have.”
He whispered as solemnly as if he were praying.
“I am yours forever. Take me completely.”
Laura’s hand, which had been wiping his eyes, caressed his cheek. She whispered with an expression that held all the peace and stability in the world.
“Then, kiss me.”
Without hesitation, Ian placed his lips on hers. Standing on the wide field where the whip-like cold wind was blowing, the lovers felt each other’s lips in a harmonious warmth that could not be felt in any fireplace in the world.
In the white world of Whitefield Hall, Laura and Ian became each other’s keys and opened the door to happiness. It was the moment when pure love, a beautiful marriage, and a lifetime of happiness that would last like eternity began.
THE END
