Chapter 61
<Chapter 61> Another Beginning
Grosvenor Square at midnight, just like now. Carrying a large suitcase, wearing a green silk shawl completely different from the one she has now, shivering and looking around. Waiting for the chartered carriage that would pick her up, longing for her one and only lover who would be riding inside, she stood in the deserted park.
But the girl's face, filled with expectations of love, gradually changed as an hour passed and then two. From impatience to fear, from fear to despair.
And finally, as dawn broke, all expression disappeared from her face. And as the carts carrying groceries and the luxurious carriages carrying noblewomen to early morning prayers to church ran through the streets, she lost all hope.
Whenever she had that dream, her whole body would be drenched in sweat. She curled up her sweaty body and shivered. The reckless elopement plan she had made when she was seventeen ended in the other person's complete betrayal.
How immature she had been back then. A young man who appeared in society. Handsome and intelligent, but penniless without a patron. The only man who understood her, lonely and frightened, just entering society.
She thought that man would save her. That he would take her away from the society that ostracized her and treated her like air.
But in the end, he didn't show up in the carriage. By marrying a wealthy woman two months after betraying her, he made her a fool in the eyes of the socialites who already knew that the two were lovers.
'Did the woman... commit suicide?'
Miss Lance's words came to mind when she told her own story disguised as another lady's story. Suicide. It might have been better if she had.
At that time, she was completely cornered. Everywhere in society, people gossiped about her, and ridicule and mockery were regular desserts at tea time.
But she couldn't commit suicide. Not only could she not give despair to her grandmother, who had even abandoned her only child for her, but she also didn't want to leave the world with the story that Dolores Pendleton's daughter had died as miserably as her mother. It was too shameful.
But above all, she wanted to live. She wanted to live properly again. As Laura Sheldon, who was free before she was entrusted to the Pendleton Estate.
She gritted her teeth and endured in society with a label attached to her. She smiled kindly at those who laughed at her, and behaved politely to those who slandered her.
Her grandmother's joy, her friends' kind companion, an advisor to unmarried ladies. She gritted her teeth and endured to live. Until the day she left the Pendleton Estate, so as not to be told that she had followed in her mother's footsteps, and to repay her grandmother for all her grace before leaving.
And finally, at the age of twenty-nine. She was free from the Pendleton Estate.
She clenched and unclenched her fist. The numbness in her body had not yet returned. She thought about the freedom that lay before her now. She could go anywhere and stay anywhere. Now she was 'Miss Pendleton' no longer, but 'Laura Sheldon'.
Laura Sheldon. She repeated her new name. It felt like someone else's because it was a name she had lost so long ago.
But this name was clearly her name. She could vividly remember her father calling her. Laura. Laura Sheldon. My daughter Laura Sheldon. Dolores Sheldon and Louis Sheldon's daughter Laura Sheldon.
"Laura Sheldon."
She called out her own name. Laura Sheldon. Laura Sheldon. So unfamiliar. But...
The subsided emotions were uplifted. Yes, Laura Sheldon. This is me. A new me. A new name to live a new life.
Miss Pendleton repeated her new name like a spell. The unfamiliar sensation turned into a sense of liberation as she repeated it. Before she knew it, she was addicted to the unfamiliar new name.
She wanted to call it endlessly. She wanted someone to call her name, to write it when signing, and even to leave it on her tombstone when she died.
She clenched her fist again. Her grip was tight with normal strength. The muscles that had been drooping were taut.
She finally knew why she had to come here. It was to break up forever with Laura Pendleton, who had tried to gain freedom through a man 12 years ago.
The seventeen-year-old self who staggered back to the Pendleton Estate with a suitcase would now be buried forever with the name Laura Pendleton. She had gained a new name, or rather, regained it, and would never go back to the way she was before.
Miss Pendleton rose from the bench. And picked up the trunk next to her again. The still heavy weight painfully pulled on her shoulder muscles. But she knew that the things inside were much more useful than the luggage she had packed 12 years ago. She dragged it and staggered away.
Towards a new destiny.
* * *
The next day, Laura woke up on a small bed in a second-rate inn near King's Cross Station. As soon as she opened her eyes, she was startled that it was not her own luxurious room where she always opened her eyes, but she soon remembered last night.
The innkeeper's face, who did not hide his displeasure at her arriving late at night. The dark inn hallway she entered following the innkeeper holding a gas lamp. A small room where only one small candle was allowed. She took off her clothes there and fell asleep right away.
Laura looked at the small chair placed on one side of the room. The mourning dress she had taken off was casually draped there. She slowly got up and put it back on. Then, she picked up a water bottle placed on one side, poured water into a chipped ceramic basin, washed her face, and arranged her hair in the small mirror hanging on the wall.
Her reflection in the mirror was pale and her eyes were red. She thought about what she had to do today. She couldn't do it looking like this. Thinking that she should at least not look emaciated, she went straight downstairs.
According to the innkeeper who guided her yesterday, the restaurant was one floor below. She slowly walked down the hallway to move towards the stairs.
As she walked down the hallway, she passed a gentleman in a shabby Frock coat smoking a pipe, and she had to step aside as a young brother and sister wearing dresses and shirts made of the same woolen fabric ran around wildly. As she went down the stairs, the increasingly loud noise rang in her ears.
The restaurant was very large, but it was crowded with all kinds of people. All kinds of people, young and old, male and female, were mixed together in one space.
She sat down first, and soon a waiter wearing everyday clothes instead of a uniform approached her and asked her what she wanted to eat in a perfunctory manner. She ordered coffee, soup, and two pieces of bread, and he turned away swaggeringly.
Soon, the food she ordered came out. She ate them while observing people.
Many people were gathered in groups of three or five at tables, drinking coffee, reading newspapers, smoking, and tearing bread.
The clothes were generally shabby, and even in very good cases, they were modest middle class. After listening carefully to people's conversations, she realized that they were all travelers.
Maids who worked in the Country house of nobles and came to London for a day on vacation. Lawyers and secretaries who came to London on business trips. Merchant families who came up from the countryside to see relatives. Peddlers who traveled around the country selling goods. She looked at them one by one with interest.
Laura was not noticeable among them. Fortunately, the black mourning dress she was wearing was simple for a noble's dress, so no one noticed her old status through her clothes.
In addition, her eyes were sore and swollen due to the stress and fatigue of the past few days, so her beauty was somewhat hidden. It was fortunate for her, as she was not in the mood to talk to anyone yet.
She finished her meal silently and went back to her room. The coffee and hot soup had restored her energy. Frankly, the simple meal she had just had was the worst food Miss Pendleton had ever eaten. The coffee was weak, the soup was bland, and the bread was burnt on the outside.
But strangely, they all went down smoothly. She digested well and felt comfortable without feeling bloated.
She returned to her room and locked the door tightly. Then, she took out a bundle of documents from the trunk. And she found a deposit receipt from the bank inside.
The most recent one was a receipt from two months ago. She looked at the receipt. There was a total of 500 pounds in the account in her name.
She had lived frugally for 12 years. Her grandmother, Lady Abigail, always gave her lumps of pocket money, telling her to buy dresses and jewelry. She saved it all up.
She stared at the receipt. 500 pounds. With that much money, she could rent a small house with a kitchen in a middle-class bedroom community or a safe commercial district in London. She wouldn't be able to afford two maids, but if she saved money, she could live on it for about 10 years.
But what about after that? Eventually, she would have to work.
Work.
She recalled the information she had gathered about the teaching profession. Whether it was a school teacher or a governess, it was common to retire from the front lines at the age of 50. So she had at least 20 years left to work. If her health allowed it.
Her goal was to work as a governess until her 50s and then retire to a small cottage in the countryside. With one male servant to guard the house and one female servant for odd jobs.
In such an environment, even if she became incapacitated due to old age, she would not have any inconvenience in her life, and she could live safely away from the anxiety of living alone as a woman.
To do that, she would need at least 3,000 pounds. Considering the unpredictable illnesses of her later years, even 3,000 pounds was a precarious amount.
She thought for a moment and then took out a practical leather bag that she had put in her trunk. And she put some documents, a wallet, and a jewelry pouch hidden deep in the trunk inside.
She looked in the mirror wearing a flat brown hat and a black cape. Perhaps because of the influence of breakfast, her complexion had returned and the swelling had subsided, so her face was in fairly good condition. She felt relieved and went outside.
She first took a chartered carriage to the West End. She looked out the window for a sign that she had once memorized, and soon it caught her eye. She immediately stopped the carriage and paid the fare.
「Westerway Governess Agency」
