Chapter 20
<20> Picnic (2)
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This place, favored by nobles for picnics, boasted lush forests alongside blue fields and a tranquil riverside. He walked towards the forest as if by instinct, and soon confirmed that a clean promenade was laid out from the entrance of the forest area. He entered the promenade.
With each step, the loud noises of people faded away. Besides the rustling of grass, birdsong, and Ian Dalton's own footsteps, nothing else was heard around him.
The throbbing he had been feeling in his temples since earlier began to subside. He sighed. It was fortunate that he had the space to sort out his thoughts.
The past month had been a series of events beyond his expectations. His original purpose in coming to London was nothing more than seeing the faces of friends with whom he had only exchanged letters occasionally after graduating from university.
That purpose had already been fulfilled in less than ten days. If he had moved according to his original plan, he would now be sitting in his office at Whitefield Hall, talking to tenants.
But he was still in London. Moreover, he was wasting time by joining in the aristocratic amusements that he usually scoffed at. It was something he could not have imagined before leaving for London.
As his stay lengthened, his mind became more troubled. He had work to do at the Estate.
There were accumulated problems to be solved, such as mediating disputes between farmers, discussing land reclamation projects, and dealing with land lease issues. In addition, the old pastor who was serving in the Estate was in poor health, so he would have to discuss the writing of his will and the future of his household.
He had a land agent taking care of his work, but there were limits to leaving it in someone else's hands. He had to return to his Estate as soon as possible. But he was caught in a strong grip that was invisible yet pulled him in. The owner of that grip was none other than the frail Miss Pendleton.
Laura Pendleton.
As he recalled her name, he felt a slight tremor in his fingertips. He clenched and unclenched his fist in the deserted forest, suppressing the tremor lest it be noticed. But the violent heartbeat that started with the tremor was not something that could be grasped and suppressed like a hand. He felt the throbbing in his chest and thought of her.
The Ball where he first met her, her gray eyes that he gazed into while dancing the waltz. The tremor began there. And after the initial tremor, his heart began to flow endlessly towards her.
He couldn't stop visiting her house whenever he had the chance. He couldn't stop the humiliating act of circling around her and trying to say even a single word to her.
As his interactions with her continued, she unlocked the latch of her heart so easily. A heart that harmonized a shy and quiet nature with an honest and unpretentious disposition. Selfless listening and clever answers. Unadorned and elegant as she was.
He had never encountered such a pleasing character, nor had he ever been so captivated by anyone. No lady had ever captivated him so much.
Before he knew it, he was rattling off his life story in front of her. Looking back now, he had even said things that were truly unnecessary. His nephews and tenant farmers, trivial matters that were important to him but obviously useless to her. How long had it been since he had been so honest in front of someone?
But while he was babbling on like an idiot about his relatives, his Estate, and other useless things, she was silent. Even when he occasionally asked her about herself, for example, about her family or relatives, she would only answer briefly.
Especially about her parents, he could not get any answer other than that they had passed away when she was young.
Mr. Dalton could now understand why her answers had been so concise.
The story surrounding Miss Pendleton's birth. It could be called a commonplace story. Such romantic elopements were not uncommon in any social circle. But the result of such commonplace marriages was always messy.
The old order of England was still creaking and diligently working its old gears until this time, just before the 20th century, and the result was still established as an unchanging social norm. A person with a problem in their birth, especially someone who did not inherit their father's surname, was the target of finger-pointing, no matter how excellent their qualities.
Especially if it was a lady, and even more so if it was a lady without the protection of money or a head of household.
The conversation of the ladies that he unintentionally overheard while riding in the carriage today was proof of that. The fact that they could so casually gossip about a lady from a Count's family who was ten years older than them meant that Miss Pendleton was the target of open disregard.
Mr. Dalton clenched his teeth as he thought about what had happened earlier. He was enraged when he thought about the words that those foolish ladies had uttered. Not only the content of their gossip, but they were so naturally looking down on Miss Pendleton.
It was easy to predict that the gossip about Miss Pendleton would be very public. Miss Pendleton would be treated that way throughout London society.
He recalled Miss Pendleton's gentle attitude, her quiet and humble nature, her shyness, and her reactions to praise from others, which she accepted with excessive sensitivity. He had dismissed it as simply being due to Miss Pendleton's innate character and found it lovely.
But perhaps it was an attitude that had been cultivated by the repeated contempt she had suffered in London society. Being pointed at when she didn't spare herself, and having people who had been friendly to her gossip about her behind her back.
It was a sight that Ian himself had often found while observing people when he frequented society.
He once again felt disgusted by the society he had originally despised, and his heart ached with pity for Miss Pendleton.
Mr. Dalton paused his thoughts for a moment to calm his feelings and continued walking along the path. But no matter how hard he tried to stop thinking, he could not stop Miss Pendleton's face from flickering before his eyes.
Miss Pendleton. The clear expressions that lingered in her gray eyes. Her slender wrist when she handed him a teacup.
He wanted to see Miss Pendleton more than ever. If he could hold her frail figure in his arms and meet her eyes. If he could get her to reveal all her wounds and comfort her. If he could let her lean her head on his shoulder, stroke her back, and kiss her forehead…
His face flushed for a moment at the thought in his head. Somehow, his pity for her was shifting to impure thoughts. He shook his head and blew away the imagination in his head.
He reached the end of the path. He came out of the forest and walked towards the riverside. But, a loud noise began to be heard from the other side of the river. Giggling, shouting, and chattering. He looked towards the sound.
Gentlemen and ladies were Stone skipping together. Judging by the parasols held by the ladies, they were some of the picnic group who had come together today. Two ladies and one gentleman.
He turned to pass by. But, the man's shout sounded familiar.
William Fairfax.
He turned his head, narrowed his eyes, and looked at them. William was holding a stone and throwing it hard into the river at an angle, in a pose just before falling over. And the ladies standing next to him watched the scene, and after a while, they held hands and jumped up and down.
He looked closely at the ladies, and soon realized that one of the ladies was Miss Pendleton. He immediately started walking towards them.
As he got closer to them, Miss Pendleton became clearer. The pure white lace shawl she always wore and the hairnet that held her hair tightly in place. Her slender arms and neckline. He clenched his fist tightly. His heart was tightening more than ever.
As he approached them, Miss Pendleton took the parasol from the lady standing next to her. The lady who handed the parasol to Miss Pendleton picked up a stone from the ground, tilted her body to one side, and swung her arm wide to throw it into the river.
Pong, pong, silence fell with the sound. After a while, Miss Pendleton threw away the parasol she was holding and hugged the lady who threw the stone, squealing. And at the same time, William, who was standing next to her, grabbed his head and sat down, shouting.
"If it had bounced five more times, I would have won! I shouldn't have picked a big stone!"
"It's not because of the stone, it's because of your posture, William."
Mr. Dalton naturally responded to Mr. Fairfax's words of frustration. The three gentlemen and ladies all turned their heads towards Mr. Dalton. Mr. Fairfax jumped up.
"Ian, when did you get here?"
"Just now."
Mr. Dalton answered casually and looked at Miss Pendleton. Miss Pendleton was smiling at him with a lively face.
Her shiny eyes and flushed cheeks caught his eye. A lovely sight. He felt his face heat up and turned his gaze to her.
"Mr. Dalton, would you like to join us in Stone skipping? I bet on Miss Hyde, so Mr. Dalton, you bet on Mr. Fairfax!"
Mr. Dalton gently shook his head.
"I'll have to bet on Miss Hyde too. I don't want to invest in the losing side just because of kinship."
"Hey, Ian! Don't say that without even seeing it! I won just now! My stone jumped three times more than Miss Hyde's stone!"
"That's probably because Miss Hyde made a mistake. Or, she deliberately lost because she felt sorry for you."
"No way? Miss Hyde, tell me quickly. Tell me it wasn't on purpose."
Miss Hyde swept up her disheveled hair.
"Mr. Fairfax's skills are excellent. He's even making me, the best Stone skipping player in the Hyde family, nervous. However, he's still far from surpassing my throne. If there was a Stone skipping event at the Olympics, I would definitely be the representative of England."
"Oh, really?"
Mr. Dalton replied as if he was interested. Miss Hyde picked up a stone from the ground with a confident expression. And she repeated the action of throwing it up and catching it on her hand.
"Mr. Dalton, would you like to compete with me? I can smash you just as well as Mr. Fairfax."
Mr. Dalton laughed ha ha.
"I used to be the representative Stone skipping player in the Yorkshire area when I was young. Well, I'm getting nervous because I'm being challenged by a national representative."
"There's no need to be nervous. It's never a shame to lose to me. If you happen to beat me, which is unlikely, it will be an achievement that will remain in the Dalton family forever, so give it a try."
It was a clear provocation. Miss Pendleton chimed in from the side.
"Give it a try, Mr. Dalton. I'll bet on Mr. Dalton this time."
