Chapter 26
<26> The Master of Whitefield (1)
To talk about this right after the funeral. Ian sighed inwardly.
"No."
"What on earth did you do for over a month in London?"
"I was being nagged by William to find a decent woman. William pressures me in London, and my brother-in-law pressures me here. Where can I run to escape this cycle?"
Robert Fairfax laughed heartily, inappropriately for the setting.
"Just pick any maiden and make her Mrs. Dalton, and you can get rid of it right away. Although, another shackle, your wife's nagging, will be waiting for you!"
Mr. Dalton silently started walking to a secluded spot. Robert walked alongside him.
"I'm the same as your sister. I want you to be tied to a young lady soon. Having been married, I can tell you it's better to do it sooner rather than later. Especially for a man. You don't know how much energy it gives a man to have his own family in his own house."
"Your wife's nagging, you mean?"
"It's bearable to listen to as you live. Still, isn't she the one raising my children? If you listen with the mindset of, 'My lady is giving me a lot of attention today, it's an honor to the family,' it's not so bad in its own way."
"I get so confused when I hear married people talk. I can't tell if they love their spouse or hate them."
"Because it's both. You don't know the complex and subtle emotions of a married couple. Well, I didn't know either when I was a bachelor. I learned the real meaning of life after getting married. The joys and sorrows of humanity. You still don't know even half of life in that regard. You're still just a kid."
"Married people seem to collectively learn to treat singles like greenhorns from somewhere. I'll have to find a Mrs. Dalton who will quickly make me a real adult, just to avoid this."
"Yes, good thinking. Go find her quickly. I actually thought you'd bring a young lady from London. The London social scene is much better than this area, isn't it?"
"Better... If that's about beauty, then yes. There are many more beautiful women than in Yorkshire."
"So, wasn't there a woman among them who captivated you?"
Mr. Dalton thought about a woman who had briefly crossed his mind, but he shook his head at his brother-in-law.
"Huh, really. If I were in your position, I would have fallen in love a hundred times over."
"It would have been a disaster if you had been born as me, brother-in-law. Falling in love a hundred times wouldn't be easy."
Robert Fairfax laughed heartily despite the consistently cynical replies.
"You're awfully finicky. Well, come visit Dunville Park sometime soon. See your sister's face and let's go hunting together."
"Yes. Thank you for coming, brother-in-law."
Robert Fairfax lightly shook Mr. Dalton's hand, then put his hands back in his pockets and sauntered off to where his carriage was.
Ian stayed until all the mourners had left. Then, he discussed the issue of Mrs. Jenfield and her family's residence, who were left in the empty parsonage.
Mrs. Jenfield only had a younger brother who was an officer deployed to India, and they had decided to live together when her brother's family returned to England. However, they had to wait several years for that family to return to England.
Ian decided to lease them a small cottage on the east side of Whitefield at a low price until they could join her brother's family.
Once the matter was settled, Ian left the parsonage and slowly started walking along the road leading to Whitefield Hall. Since the parsonage and Whitefield were within a 30-minute walk, he had left his carriage behind.
As he left the village with its small shops and houses of various sizes, a quiet tree-lined road soon appeared. It was a peaceful road with streams and fields visible between the trees, which were over 40 feet tall on both sides of the road.
Scattered sunlight shone through the dense leaves and covered the ground. Ian walked, stepping on the fragments of sunlight. After the tree-lined road ended and he crossed a field, a dense forest area appeared.
It was a birch forest that explained the origin of the name Whitefield. As he walked along the wide dirt road, which was cleanly maintained, he could hear the song of a nightingale and the sound of the wind brushing past the trees.
His heart warmed as he looked at the birch trees that filled his vision.
It was a road he had walked thousands of times since childhood, but he felt a renewed sense of emotion because he had just returned from a long trip. He hadn't been aware of it during his stay in London, but he had been subtly longing for this place. This Whitefield where he was born and raised.
He realized anew how much he loved this place. His heart responded with intense affection to the grass and trees he saw, even to a single clod of dirt.
He passed through the forest and crossed a bridge connecting a wide stream. Soon, the natural trees turned into well-maintained garden trees. The massive Whitefield Hall soon came into view before him.
Whitefield Hall was a mansion so large that anyone could tell its massive scale even from a distance. It was a stone building built layer upon layer with beautiful white marble bricks that harmonized with the pure white forest, and it had the dignity and elegance perfectly suited for the owner of this land to live in. He passed through the neatly landscaped garden and fountain and entered the entrance.
As soon as he entered, the small, stocky old butler Ramswick approached him.
"Have you arrived, Master?"
Mr. Dalton nodded.
"Send some of our servants to Heartnum Cottage early tomorrow morning to clean it up. Tell them to pay attention since it's the house where Reverend Jenfield's family will be living."
"Yes, I understand."
He was about to go to his study as he was, but he soon turned back to Ramswick.
"Did I ask how you were doing when I came back yesterday?"
"No, Master. But it's alright."
"Have you been well, Ramswick?"
"Yes, I have been well."
"Is your health alright?"
"Yes."
"How's your knee?"
"It's good, thanks to you, Master."
Ian smiled faintly.
"That's a relief. I'm sorry for being away for so long."
"It's nothing, Master."
Ian went straight up to his study. But Ramswick followed Ian into the study.
"Is something the matter?"
"I have something to tell you."
Ian gave him a look that said to speak.
"About the temporary land agent we hired. I don't think it would be good to hire him any longer."
"Why?"
"While you were away, he worked hard for half the day. From morning until noon. But for the other half, he was hunting recklessly in your hunting grounds and trying to play nasty pranks on the maids."
Mr. Dalton's brow furrowed.
"Actually, I wouldn't have said anything if it was just this, but it seems he took a bribe during the mill rental process. One of the servants overheard two people whispering about it at the pub."
He sighed, "Hmm," and crossed his arms.
"I don't know if there's such a thing as a land agent with a conscience in this world. They try to take something other than their wages no matter what."
"I'd bet there isn't."
"I'll bet on that too."
Ian immediately sat down at his desk, wrote a letter, and handed it to Ramswick.
"Send this with his wages for the work he's done so far tomorrow."
"Yes, I understand."
Ramswick left as he was.
Ian sat down and started working. Even though he had only been away from Whitefield for less than two months, there was a mountain of work to do. The most urgent tasks were settling tenant fees, resolving legal disputes within the Estate, resolving conflicts between farms over fence installations, and meeting for building rentals.
Once he resolved those issues, he had to go directly to the mine that was being mined and meet with a lawyer as soon as possible. But before that, he had to review how the land agent had done his work while he was away.
He looked through the ledgers and read through the rental-related documents and business-related letters that the agent had prepared one by one. He noticed things that were completely different from the explanations he had only heard in letters so far, and there were also things that had been handled in the exact opposite way of what he had instructed.
The more he looked through the documents, the more his mood deteriorated.
He was angry at the land agent for handling the work in such a way, and he was also annoyed at his brother-in-law for introducing him to this land agent. Seeing that he had introduced such a person, it was clear how indifferent his brother-in-law usually was about his Estate.
But Ian knew that finding a trustworthy land agent was like picking a star out of the sky. Ian had learned that fact through actual experience.
After his father, who had left the entire Estate management to the land agent, passed away, Ian was shocked to find out through the ledgers and documents how much money the agent had embezzled in the meantime.
He immediately fired the agent and handled everything himself. It was a series of troublesome tasks, but he couldn't let the foundations of Whitefield be eaten away.
He once again realized that land agents were not to be trusted and reorganized the messed-up ledgers and re-recorded the documents. Then, he wrote letters to the lawyers to get legal advice in order.
Several hours passed, and when the tasks that had to be done today were appropriately finished, he got up from his desk and went to the window. Whitefield, which had been overtaken by night, was dyed a deep navy blue. The moon and stars shone coldly above the black outline of the distant, winding mountain peaks.
He opened the lid of the wooden cigar box on the table near the window. Then, he took out one of the cigars inside, put it in his mouth, and struck a match. As he burned the end of the cigar and took a deep drag on the filter, the throbbing in his head subsided. He felt more relaxed and looked out the window, inhaling the smoke.
A leisurely and satisfying feeling. He finally realized that he had returned to Whitefield. His real life was here. In front of the study window with a view of Whitefield at a glance.
He dropped the ashes and thought about his life in London. The streets full of carriages and people, and the crowded balls. The formal dinners and tea parties held surrounded by elegant furniture.
It was an exchange with the highest class of London society, but it had no particular meaning for him, so even the afterimages were faint. He hardly remembered who he had met or where he had gone.
The only thing he clearly remembered was one lady living on Pendleton Street in Grosvenor Square.
He dropped the ashes in the ashtray. The feeling of satisfaction faded.
What is she doing now? Is she dancing at a ball? Is she invited to a friend's house for a formal dinner? Is she looking at the night sky in her room like him?
Ah, does she want to see me, like I want to see her?
'Of course not.'
He gave a self-deprecating smile. The woman who had so resolutely rejected him before he could even properly propose, the woman who had been so kind but had become so cold, would not want to see him. She probably wouldn't even think of him. He took another drag on the filter.
He had been thinking about it ever since he got on the train back to Whitefield. The reason why she had cut him off so quickly before he could even properly propose. Even if she didn't love him, the reason why she, who had such a kind disposition, had become so cold.
