Chapter 27
<27> The Master of Whitefield (2)
In retrospect, Miss Pendleton was an unusually rational person. She valued harmony and trust between men and women but did not overestimate the power of love. In their conversations while walking in the woods, she clearly stated that a marriage that did not meet certain conditions would never bring happiness.
She must have been conscious of her dowry or her parents' issues and cut him off early, intending to nip it in the bud.
From his perspective, it didn't make sense. Why was that even a problem? Even if she didn't have a dowry, he already had plenty of money. He was earning more than enough through his Estate income and business without having to attract money through marriage.
The same went for her parents' issues. He didn't care if she was a commoner or how her parents had come together. Was she worried about the whispers of those around them? That his reputation would suffer? But he already wasn't getting very good press because of his personality.
Everyone who knew Ian Dalton, the landowner of Whitefield, knew he was an impolite and picky man. What impact would it have if he added a wife with commoner blood to that?
He imagined pouring out these thoughts to her and persuading her. She would certainly listen to him calmly. She would shake her head if he spoke ill of himself, and she would nod if he made a reasonable point.
She would understand his thoughts one by one, her serious gray eyes fixed on him as always. With the seriousness and intelligence that he loved most about Miss Pendleton.
But in the end, if he tried to propose again after the last failed attempt...
She would shake her head.
'Damn it.'
He took another deep drag of his cigar to soothe his burning insides.
Apart from her warm heart, she was a person faithful to her principles. No matter how much he persuaded and begged, even if he eventually lost his temper and made a scene, she wouldn't bat an eye. Indecision did not exist for her. Her reasoning was a bigger obstacle than her emotions.
But that didn't mean he could give up on her. In his thirty years of life, this was the first time he had felt like marrying someone.
If he let her go, he probably wouldn't feel this way again. Then he would become the heirless bachelor that the people around him feared so much. He didn't have a great desire for an heir, so he had no intention of forcing himself to marry a woman he didn't want just to have children.
He stubbed out his cigar and thought.
Laura Pendleton. He had to bring her to his Estate no matter what. By any means necessary. Yes, he would finish up the work at Whitefield as quickly as possible, find a reliable land agent, and then return to London.
He had to find someone reliable. He wouldn't come back until he had persuaded her. If he went to London this time, he would definitely bring her back to Whitefield. If persuasion didn't work, he would grab her and beg, and if that still didn't work, he would threaten to kill himself. She was a kind person, so she would have no choice but to marry him to save his life.
'I should find that old pistol I haven't used in a while around the time I'm looking for a land agent.'
He thought that quite seriously. In his head, he knew he was acting like a stubborn boy, but his heart was blind, as if proving that he had fallen in love for the first time. And he was a man who followed his heart more than his head.
He spent the evening pondering how to unleash the temper he had so carefully hidden until now.
Ian Dalton's life after returning from London was ordinary. He spent the mornings looking at documents and the afternoons meeting with tenant farmers or lawyers. Occasionally, he would visit the rectory to have tea with the young vicar and his wife or accept invitations to dine with farmers.
Ramswick, who faithfully assisted Ian, thought that his daily life was the same as before he left. On the surface, that is.
His handling of work and his behavior towards those around him were no different. Perhaps no other servant would have noticed the change in him.
But Ramswick, who had been the butler of Whitefield Hall since Ian was lying in his cradle, wiggling his fingers at the mobile, could quickly sense that something different had happened inside him.
A floating atmosphere. A look of contemplation in his sunken eyes.
Ramswick began to worry that his beloved young master, now his trustworthy master, might have something on his mind. He would lie in his small bedroom at night, unable to sleep, tossing and turning with worry about Ian, or rather, his master.
On the fourth day after Ian's return, Ramswick knocked on the door of the study to get approval for the mansion's management expenses and the servants' payroll for the past month. But he heard no response. He wondered if his master was out, so he opened the door and went inside. Ian was sitting by the window, his sketchbook, which he always carried, resting on his lap.
Ramswick called out to Ian, but he didn't notice. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring out the window. Ramswick wondered if he should just leave the documents and leave, but he had to get the approval quickly because of the retirement pensions for the retiring servants, so he had no choice but to approach him.
He went to Ian's side and called out to him. Only then did Ian turn his head towards Ramswick. He didn't seem to have noticed him entering the study at all. Ramswick handed over the documents with an apologetic expression. Ian nodded, took the documents, and began to review them.
Meanwhile, Ramswick looked at his master's face. He looked tired, as if he hadn't been sleeping well for the past few days. His worried heart grew even bigger. But Ian was only looking at the documents, unaware of Ramswick's concern.
He silently held out his hand to Ramswick, and Ramswick, as if he had been waiting, took out the pen from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. Ian lightly signed the documents and returned them.
"Make sure they get their severance pay properly."
"Don't worry, Master."
He took the documents and bowed to leave. But in his lowered gaze, he saw the sketchbook spread out on his master's lap. A portrait of a beautiful lady was drawn on the paper.
He knew he had acted impolitely and averted his gaze from the sketchbook. Fortunately, Ian didn't seem to notice that Ramswick had seen his sketchbook, as he turned his head back to the window and fell into thought as soon as the work was done.
Ramswick quickly left the study. As he closed the door, a faint smile spread across his impassive face. He had realized the source of his master's thoughts. It was lovesickness.
All day long, Ramswick went about his work with his usual stoic expression. But in his heart, he was humming a tune. It seemed that his young master, or rather, his master, who had no desire for marriage at all, had gone to London and found a woman who could be his partner.
His master, who had lived cut off from Yorkshire society, had found his match in London. He now understood why Ian, who had confidently left, promising to return in ten days, had spent more than a month in London, and he laughed to himself. Our young master is dating now. Heh heh.
After that, he continued to watch Ian without making it obvious. He handled his work calmly as usual, but whenever the schedule was delayed, he couldn't hide his impatience and urged Ramswick on. The cigars in the cigar box also ran out faster than usual, and in the evenings after work, he would often sit in front of the fireplace, staring intently at the portrait of the woman in the sketchbook.
Ramswick realized that he was trying to finish his work quickly and return to London. He did his best to help him speed up the work in accordance with his master's wishes.
Although his own work would double without his master, and even that would not go smoothly, he earnestly hoped that his master would bring the beautiful lady in the sketchbook from London as his mistress.
He was a truly loyal butler, so he only wanted Whitefield, his lifelong workplace, to prosper, and he was keenly aware that a mistress was needed for that. If Ian didn't have a son, the right to inherit Whitefield would pass to a relative.
As a result of his efforts, all the important work that had piled up while he was away from Whitefield was completed a week after he arrived. Relieved, Ian immediately instructed Ramswick.
"I need to go see my sister at Dunville Park. Prepare the horses."
"Yes, Master."
Soon, Ian's beloved slender black horse stood in the yard with a saddle on. Ian put on his neat brown riding suit and mounted the horse. Holding the reins in his gloved hands, he said to Ramswick, who was standing to see him off.
"I'm sorry to say this to you, but I'll have to go to London again in a few days. I don't know how long I'll be staying, but it will probably be longer than last time. In the meantime, find a land agent to manage Whitefield."
"Aren't you going to entrust it to Robert Fairfax this time?"
Ian nodded, his jaw tight. Ramswick bowed his head.
"I will place a newspaper advertisement immediately."
Ian lightly kicked the horse's side. The well-trained horse carried its master out of the Whitefield garden. Ramswick watched Ian's back as he left Whitefield. His face was full of joy.
Now our young master is bringing back a mistress.
He suppressed the humming and went inside the mansion.
Dunville Park was a short distance away, less than an hour's ride if the horse was driven quickly without rest. It was a road so familiar to Ian that he could ride it with his eyes closed. It was a place he had been going back and forth to since he was a child.
At first, to play cards with William, and from the age of eight, to see Henry lying in his cradle. Now, to look after his sick sister and his mischievous nephews.
After riding through the heath and rocky fields for a while, he soon entered the wide hunting grounds surrounding Dunville Park. This was also where his brother-in-law usually spent more time than at home. Anyone who had urgent business with him would search the hunting grounds first to find him.
Ian, who was slowly passing through the hunting grounds to let his tired horse rest, heard a gunshot in the distance. He thought, 'As expected, my brother-in-law is hunting again today,' and didn't think much of it. But loud shouts from young boys followed in the same direction as the gunshot.
