Chapter 28
<28> Dunville Park (1)
Sensing something, he quickly spurred his horse toward the sound.
Ian quietly passed through the oaks and entered the dense woods. Soon, he discovered two well-grown boys standing by a secluded pond.
It was clear at a glance that they were his nephew Daniel and George Fairfax. Ten-year-old Daniel was holding something in his hand, aiming it at a tree, while eight-year-old George beside him was impatiently tugging at his brother's sleeve, muttering incomprehensible words.
He slowly rode his horse toward them.
"Uncle Ian!"
George recognized him first and shouted. Daniel quickly hid what he was holding behind his back. He silently jumped off his horse and approached them.
"How have you been?"
Ian wordlessly held out his palm to Daniel. Daniel knew what it meant and desperately tried to justify himself to protect what he had hidden.
"U-Uncle, it's just a toy gun. We were just practicing shooting."
"A toy gun that sounds like a regular rifle?"
"Well... we think it's really amazing too... Hehe..."
Daniel laughed awkwardly. But he quickly stopped laughing when he saw Ian's face. His uncle was looking at him with the cold, expressionless face he usually wore when he was at his wit's end.
"Give it to me. Daniel Fairfax."
Ian ordered curtly. Daniel glanced at Ian, hoping to resist a little longer, but soon made a tearful face and placed what he had hidden behind his back into his uncle's hand.
A thin vein stood out on Ian's forehead. It was a hunting pistol. Not a toy, but a real pistol. He immediately took all the bullets out of the gun and put them in his pocket.
"Where did you get this?"
"F-Father said that now that I'm ten years old, I can play with it... Ah!"
Daniel cried out. Ian grabbed Daniel's left ear without even hearing him finish.
"I'll give you another chance. Where did you get this?"
"I-I really got it from Father!"
"No, Uncle. He's lying. He stole it from Dad's gun case!"
At George's shout, Daniel glared at George with a menacing look.
"You tattletale! You said you'd lick my shoes if I let you shoot it just once!"
George stuck out his tongue.
"That's your punishment for hogging it!"
"Damn it...!"
"Shut your mouth, Daniel. This is entirely your fault. Not only did you disobey the adults by touching a firearm before you were fifteen, but you also stole and lied? It seems like you've been slacking off a lot while I've been away?"
Ian shook the ear he was holding.
"Ah, Uncle! Uncle! I was wrong! So please let go!"
He started dragging Daniel around the pond. Daniel sobbed and begged, but Ian dragged him along expressionlessly. By the time they had gone around once, Daniel's face was red and tear-streaked. Ian returned to where they had been and let go of his ear.
Daniel glanced at his uncle, sniffling. The uncle he knew was generally strict and stubborn. He was completely different from his lenient and easygoing parents, and he was as scary as the devil, especially when he was angry.
"I clearly said that I would teach you how to shoot when you turn exactly fifteen, and that I would persuade your mother to let you enlist in the navy instead of going to college when you turn eighteen. Everything will happen in due time, but you couldn't wait and did this already."
Daniel hung his head.
"Putting you in the navy might weaken the British forces. Should I just get you into college somehow and make you a priest instead?"
Daniel jumped at Ian's favorite threat when disciplining his troublemaking nephew.
"No, Uncle! I'd rather die than be stuck in a parsonage memorizing the Bible! I want to be a soldier!"
"If you want to be a soldier, you need to develop self-control first. It's more important for a soldier to know when not to shoot than to be good at shooting. If something like this happens again, I'll move you to my mansion and fix your mindset."
Daniel nodded, standing at attention. Ian got back on his horse, which was still tied up. And he said to his nephew.
"Your punishment for today is cleaning the stables for a week."
"Uncle!"
Ian stared at Daniel silently, and Daniel hung his head again. George, who had been watching his brother get scolded by his uncle, giggled. Ian gave George a stern order.
"George, you'll help your brother for a week."
George jumped.
"Uncle, I didn't steal it! I didn't even get to touch the gun!"
"Cleaning horse manure together will keep you from clinging to your brother when he's doing bad things next time."
Ian said that and pulled on the reins. He could hear the two boys groaning behind him, but he didn't care.
Ever since he found Daniel holding the gun, his heart had been cold, and it remained coldly sunken even after he had retrieved the gun. What if they had been wrestling with a gun and accidentally shot themselves?
He imagined his troublemaking nephew lying on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound. It was a terrifying thought.
As his horse emerged from the forest, a neatly manicured park contrasted with the dense hunting grounds. It was Dunville Park, famous for its clean bridle paths and walking trails with beautiful gardens.
He galloped along the lawn toward the magnificent mansion in the distance. And when he reached the front of the mansion, he pulled on the reins, stopped the horse, and lightly jumped out of the saddle. He entrusted the horse to the servant who quickly approached and headed for the entrance.
He entered the mansion, climbed the stairs, and went up to the second floor. He knocked on the door of the room located at the innermost part of the second floor. Soon, he heard a woman's voice from inside, telling him to come in.
As soon as he entered, his sister, Mrs. Robert Fairfax, sitting in front of the fireplace inside the room, caught his eye. A middle-aged woman with a small frame, graying hair, and a sickly complexion. She looked at her younger brother and exclaimed with a bright face.
"Oh, Ian! Welcome!"
But Ian's expression did not brighten at all. He walked toward his sister and stood in front of the table. And he took out the gun that Daniel had been playing with and placed it on the table.
"What's this?"
"Your two sons were playing with it."
"So you made them clean the stables again?"
"Yes."
"They'll be smelling like horse manure for a while. By the way, Ian, look at this card reading."
Ian glanced at the table. Colorful cards were scattered on the table covered with velvet cloth.
"My nephews were playing with live ammunition, and you're telling me to look at cards?"
"They didn't shoot each other to death, did they?"
She looked at her younger brother with an expression that said, "Why are you making such a fuss over something so trivial?" and turned her eyes back to the cards. It was exactly the reaction he had expected.
He thought it would be better to have a proper conversation with his brother-in-law later. He would probably laugh it off, saying that boys will be boys, but at least he would be aware of who had stolen his precious gun.
"Hey, take a look at this!"
His sister urged him once more. Ian scanned the cards with a lukewarm curiosity, wondering what kind of divine secrets his sister's favorite card reading had revealed this time.
One was a picture of a naked woman drawing water from a lake, another was a picture of a man lying stabbed with knives, and another was a picture of Adam and Eve holding hands in front of God.
"Ian, did you meet someone in London? The cards say you'll get married this year. Oh my god, Ian. Tell me quickly. Who is it?"
"There's no one."
"That's impossible. Surely women flocked to you and wouldn't let you go. Haven't you picked one of them yet?"
"I'm not popular with ladies."
Mrs. Fairfax certainly didn't believe it.
"Then William must have lied to me. He told me all about how popular you were in London. He wrote letters filling up the back pages."
'That useless fellow.'
Mr. Dalton sighed.
"Besides, you responded quite well, didn't you? You were invited to formal dinners and tea parties, and you even went on picnics?"
"I just went because I was invited."
"Responding to invitations isn't in your dictionary, is it?"
"Does my sister see me as a completely rude scoundrel?"
Mrs. Fairfax scoffed.
"Of course. You, polite? My horse would laugh. You, who told the Sheffield regional judge, who's old enough to be your father, to go home if he was drunk?"
Mr. Dalton frowned, thinking of the magistrate.
"Is it wrong to point out that someone who doesn't know they're vulgar is inviting disgrace?"
"Yes, he was comparing his wife's body parts to certain parts of an animal while drunk, so of course you could do that. But thanks to that, he won't have dinner with you or anyone close to you ever again. I haven't seen his face in five years thanks to you."
Mrs. Fairfax waved her hand.
"Well, anyway, that's not important. There's no way you suddenly developed social skills in London, right? Huh? Tell me honestly. Was there a lady you had your eye on at those gatherings? Right?"
Mr. Dalton was silent.
"Could it be Miss Pendleton, who appeared frequently in William's letters? The one who danced with you and hosted the tea parties you often went to?"
