Chapter 38
<38> A Fool in Love (1)
* * *
Ian left home early the next morning.
He walked for about thirty minutes and entered Grosvenor Street. As he walked along the deserted street, the Miss Pendleton's Townhouse came into view. He stood on the opposite side of the street and fixed his gaze on the third-floor window where Miss Pendleton's room was located.
He stood motionless, waiting for a glimpse of Miss Pendleton, even just her shadow. An hour later, the closed curtains of her room window opened. He stared intently at the window.
But contrary to his expectations, it was a maid in a servant's uniform who appeared at the window. The maid threw the window wide open. And leaning her upper body out of the window, she waved her arms in the air as if to check the temperature.
Then, the maid, who was casually looking outside, suddenly stared intently at Ian. She had discovered Ian.
He soon realized that she was the maid to whom he had delivered the letter just before he left London. The maid who had said something quite absurd to him. She looked at him for a moment, then made a gesture as if clenching her fist and pointing her index finger downwards. It seemed to mean that he should stay right there.
Soon, the front door opened and the maid came out. She crossed the carriage road and walked to where Ian was, bowing politely.
"Loitering in front of your beloved's house from early morning. How romantic, sir."
"Is Miss Pendleton well?"
"She is fine in terms of health. However, there are problems other than health."
"The nouveau riche from America, you mean."
"You know about it."
Ian stood silently and smoked a cigarette. The shadows under his eyes grew darker. The maid looked at him for a moment and then asked.
"Have you met Mr. Price?"
"So that's the fellow's name, Price?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Yes, I saw the address on the invitation sent to him. But I won't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because your expression right now looks like you'll run off with a gun and shoot him until he's full of holes if I tell you."
Ian slowly exhaled smoke and asked.
"Are you worried about being hanged?"
"No. Why would I worry about a gentleman of high status like you? I'm too busy taking care of myself. And actually, I kind of wish someone would shoot Mr. Price."
Ian sighed.
"We're the same on that point."
"But you shouldn't do it."
"Why?"
"You have to marry Miss Pendleton. I can't let our Miss Laura become the wife of a murderer."
Ian looked at the maid. She had a very confident expression. Her attitude, which seemed to be on the verge of insubordination, was absurd, but she was definitely his ally.
"A loyal maid."
"Thank you for the compliment."
The maid retorted saucily.
"Then, you... Ah, what's your name?"
"Ann Steele."
"Ann Steele. Well, Steele, are you willing to help me and Miss Pendleton?"
"Of course. Two pounds is quite a lot of money for a maid like me."
"Didn't you say 2 pounds was insignificant?"
"I wanted to act tough."
Ian looked at the maid Ann with a dumbfounded expression.
"Well, what do you think are the chances that Miss Pendleton will fall in love with me?"
"Hopeful. For now. As long as you don't kill Mr. Price."
"You also say that if I duel with Mr. Price, Miss Pendleton will lose affection for me?"
"Isn't that obvious? When Lady Abigail passes away, Mr. Pendleton will be Miss Laura's only blood relative left, and if you kill his friend, do you think he'll leave Miss Pendleton alone? Moreover, Mr. Price is the matchmaker for her cousin, Charles Pendleton. Miss Laura will either be beaten to death by Mr. Pendleton or be completely kicked out of England."
Ian hmm, sighed.
"I can protect her. As much as she needs. Just abandon that useless head of the family and come to me, and everything will be solved."
Ann shook her head.
"Our Miss would rather die than do such a thing."
Ian bit his lip. William and this loyal maid, they were all making consistent statements. That if he touched that old man Price, he would be cut off from Miss Pendleton.
"But, she won't inherit anything from the family. Then, after dear Lady Abigail passes away, where will Miss Pendleton go? Her uncle treats his niece like an enemy. Doesn't he?"
Ann looked at Ian with wide eyes.
"Don't you know? Miss has been preparing to work as a governess for a long time."
Ian dropped the cigarette he was holding between his fingers.
"What?"
"You really didn't know. Well, Miss doesn't talk about these things except to those close to her."
Ian looked at the window of Miss Pendleton's room again.
Laura Pendleton, she was preparing to be a governess?
"But, it's absurd for a woman of her status to work as a servant. A governess, good heavens. Which family would hire a noblewoman who used to live in higher status than them as a servant?"
Ann, who had lived as a servant for over ten years, agreed with that statement.
"That's right. They lack professionalism, and there's a prejudice that they're arrogant and won't listen to the master's instructions properly. They're often misunderstood as trying to seduce the master to restore their status. Even if they manage to get a job, there's no way to escape poverty for life as a governess. But, our Miss does Greek and Latin, so she'll get a slightly better salary. She'll probably be hired right away when she goes to the job market. There are hardly any governesses who speak five languages."
Ian continued to stare intently at the window of Miss Pendleton's room. He listened to Ann's words and gradually his head grew cold. The possibility that Miss Pendleton would become a governess made him extremely calm.
Yes, she would do well. The position of governess was not a good one, but she was an intelligent and persistent woman, so if luck was on her side, she could be treated well and become independent.
That meant she could go somewhere where he couldn't catch her.
She could go somewhere out of his reach. As soon as he had that thought, the anger that had been burning in his stomach and darkening his vision all night disappeared in an instant. His chest grew cold, and his mind became clear.
He had regained his reason in the truest sense.
He stared silently at the window of Miss Pendleton's room for a while.
"Don't let Miss know I came. Understand?"
"That's easy, but... Do you have a plan, sir?"
Ian was silent for a moment, just looking at the window. He stayed like that for a while, then turned away without a word.
After he left, Ann returned to her workplace, the Pendleton Townhouse. And as usual for her morning routine, she dressed Miss Laura and helped her with her hair.
Miss Laura, who knew nothing about Ian Dalton's visit today, was just worried about whether she could finish repairing the stairs before her uncle arrived with a tired face.
Ann brushed Miss's hair and gently comforted her to ease her worries. At the same time, she recalled Ian Dalton, who had been looking at Miss Laura's room before leaving.
A cold, expressionless face and coldly sunken eyes. But his eyes were shining clearly with one purpose.
Ann was surprised to see that side of him for the first time. Because she felt an unexpected, dangerous obsession from the gentleman Ian Dalton, who had seemed so elegant and ascetic.
But the more Ann thought about his appearance, the better she felt for some reason. The place where his obsession was directed was the lovely and sincere mistress, Miss Laura Pendleton.
He would never give up on Miss Laura. There was no way a man with those eyes could give up on something. He would surely take Miss to his hometown of Whitefield. And he would give her a different name than before.
The name 'Mrs. Dalton', the most respected woman in Yorkshire.
* * *
The rumor that Ian Dalton had returned to London spread quickly through the painting hanging in Miss Lance's drawing room.
It was unusual for an uncolored sketch to be hung in a drawing room, so people who visited the Lance family always asked about the painting, and the Lance mother and daughter had no intention of hiding the fact that it was a work received from Mr. Dalton.
The social circles were once again on edge about Ian Dalton, who had reappeared without a sound. In particular, the fact that the first thing he did on the day of his arrival was to draw portraits of Miss Lance and Miss Fairfax was something that would attract minor attention.
In social circles, a gentleman drawing and gifting a portrait to a lady was enough to be the seed of a scandal. But fortunately, another lady in the frame, Miss Janet Fairfax, was playing an excellent breakwater against the scandal.
It was well known to those who knew that Miss Lance was friends with the Fairfax siblings, so people could easily guess that Miss Lance had visited the Fairfax siblings' Townhouse and received the painting as a gift.
His painting hanging in the Lance family's drawing room gradually faded from people's minds, leaving only the rumor that Ian Dalton had excellent painting skills.
But not for Miss Lance. The painting he drew for her became more and more important as the days went by.
She often stood in front of the painting, lost in thought. Of course, that thought was about the moment when this painting was drawn.
A tea time on a fine afternoon, herself sitting on the sofa in Mr. Fairfax's mansion drawing room. Ian Dalton sitting across from her. Wearing a neat navy blue travel suit, his head tilted over the sketchbook, scribbling with a pencil. Fallen black hair. Black and calm eyes looking at her. The rustling sound echoing from his hand.
'He was like the male protagonist in a melodrama.'
Miss Lance retraced each moment and suddenly realized what she was thinking. Then she covered her blushing cheeks and stepped away from the painting.
Like any other lady, Miss Lance loved melodramas. Countless novels and Sonnet, serenades. Many ladies who had not yet opened their eyes to love learned through these works what it felt like to fall in love.
A pounding heart. The face of one person that flickers several times a day. A shy and thirsty feeling. Emotions that are more sensitive than usual. It was exactly the same as her feelings now.
At first, she was embarrassed, but gradually she thought it was an emotion worth enjoying in its own way. Love is often said to be painful, but at least not for her. This was because she already believed that Ian Dalton felt the same way as her.
The foolishness of believing that her belief could not be wrong was a characteristic of that age, but the price for it was entirely her own.
Miss Lance lived in a sweet dream, not knowing what price she would have to pay in the future.
