Chapter 96
Laura recognized Mr. Dalton at first glance when she discovered this painting and was flustered by how adorable he was. A fair face with rosy cheeks. Baby fat that looked as soft as a cloud. Clever black eyes. Small lips pursed in earnest.
He was the most striking of all the little boys she had ever seen. If he were a little boy she knew in the neighborhood, she would buy him a piece of candy every day and pinch his cheeks once.
Laura turned her head to look at Mr. Dalton. He was standing next to Laura, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching the water striders floating on the lake.
Dressed in a teal suit, complete with a vest and a black tie, he was the perfect young gentleman. The side of his face, revealed beneath his neatly combed hair, was sharply defined, with no trace of the innocent boy from his childhood.
A smile spread across Laura's lips. Her heart pounded like a broken engine.
It had been happening frequently lately. As if she had caught a disease, her heart went wild whenever she saw him. Ever since he had cried for her, her emotions had become uncontrollable. Although they were capped, her emotions were seeping out through the cracks.
She ignored her emotions with superhuman effort. Thus, the inexpressible feelings became a pain that clawed at her heart.
Laura frowned at the stinging pain in her chest. At times like this, she missed her father more than ever. If she had learned how to deal with emotions like Mr. Dalton, she would have known how to cope appropriately.
The only ways she had ever dealt with emotions were to control them, ignore them, and regard them with suspicion. Having lost control, she could only endure the emotional turmoil, like a foolish parent who could only watch helplessly as a child, raised strictly and gone astray, caused trouble as an adult.
Laura sighed softly and closed the sketchbook. Then, in her usual calm voice, she asked,
"What are you thinking about?"
"I was recalling the Stone skipping competition I had with Miss Hyde. Seeing the water reminds me of that humiliating defeat."
Laura chuckled softly.
"It was an amusing contest."
"How is Miss Hyde doing?"
"She seems to be doing well. She sent me a letter saying that she had successfully completed Mary Rotis's manuscript this time and received a special bonus. She sent a small brooch with pearls as a gift."
"That's impressive. Well, a lady who can throw stones across the horizon can do anything."
"I hope so. Actually, the publishing house is discussing hiring Miss Hyde as a full-fledged editor, not just a typist. There are objections among the executives because there is no precedent for a female editor, but I think it will work out. She is more insightful and knowledgeable about writing than anyone else."
"Whether Miss Hyde becomes an editor or not doesn't depend on her qualifications. It depends on whether that publishing house has the vision to see it. If the editor position falls through, tell Miss Hyde to quit. There's no need to stay long in a place that doesn't give her fair treatment."
"Mr. Fairfax seems to think the same way. He has already created a long list of publishing houses to send new letters of recommendation to if Miss Hyde's promotion is thwarted."
"He should mind his own business. Anyway, he's always eager to help others."
Mr. Dalton praised his friend in a scolding tone. Laura burst into laughter.
Just then, a rumbling sound echoed from the sky.
Looking up, Laura saw dust-colored clouds rapidly gathering in the clear sky. Their eyes met in the air. A sense of dismay washed over their faces.
He quickly took off his jacket and put it over Laura's head. His well-fitted jacket was so large on Laura that it covered her entire upper body even when worn over her head.
Soon, raindrops began to patter on the surface of the water.
He held the open front of the jacket tightly and asked,
"Are those shoes you can run in?"
Laura nodded. Whenever she came to walk in the woods, she wore sturdy boots with rubber soles.
He put an arm around Laura's shoulder.
"Then, let's run."
He started running. Laura followed Mr. Dalton.
The two of them ran along a small path, past two springs, and into a deep forest densely lined with chestnut trees.
Soon, a small cabin appeared. It was a sturdy house built of oak with a triangular roof. The two went inside.
Laura, with the jacket she had been wearing on her head draped over her shoulders, looked around the interior of the house. It looked like an abandoned house at first glance. The dim interior showed no signs of a fire being lit, and the dining table was covered in a thick layer of dust amidst scattered chairs.
"This is where a woodcutter's family used to live. After the head of the family died and his wife got a job as a housekeeper in London, it has been abandoned ever since. It's dirty, but let's stay here until it stops."
He rolled up his sleeves and broke two of the rolling wooden chairs, throwing them into the fireplace. Then he took a small matchbox out of his pocket, struck a match on the striking surface, and threw it into the fireplace. Soon, a fire blazed, brightening the dim interior of the house.
Laura, who had been watching his movements, was startled. Revealed in the bright light, he was soaked to the bone. Water dripped from his hair, and his skin was faintly visible through his damp shirt.
It was autumn, it was raining, and moreover, they were in the forest. The temperature had dropped to the point where faint white breaths were visible with each exhale, and he was even soaked. Laura's heart clenched with worry for his health.
Mr. Dalton took off his damp vest, as if it were a nuisance, and placed it on the wooden table. Then he dragged over one of the remaining chairs, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped the dust off the chair. The once clean handkerchief became a black rag. He folded it neatly and placed it on the table before moving the chair to the fireplace.
He gestured kindly to Laura.
"Come closer."
Laura slowly approached the fireplace.
He sat Laura down in the chair and took the damp jacket off her shoulders. Then he looked her over. Thanks to wearing the jacket over her head, her upper body was untouched by raindrops, and only the hem of her skirt was slightly damp.
Soon he got up and broke a few more chairs, throwing them into the fireplace. The fire burned even brighter, and the small cabin became warm with heat.
Laura offered him the black shawl she was wearing as he dusted off his palms.
"Dry yourself off."
He shook his head.
"I don't want to ruin Miss Pendleton's clothes."
"It's a cheap shawl I bought for five pence at a secondhand market in London. I wouldn't mind throwing it away right now, so please use it. I'm afraid my precious friend will catch a cold."
He smiled gently and accepted the shawl. Then he lightly wiped his waterlogged face, neck, and forearms.
"You'll be reluctant to use it again. I'll dispose of this and buy you a new one that's similar."
Laura nodded.
Mr. Dalton folded the shawl neatly and held it in his hand before spreading the jacket he had set aside at Laura's feet. Then he sat on it.
'The shawl would be less damp to sit on.'
Laura thought so, but she assumed he was embarrassed to sit on a lady's clothes and said nothing.
Heavy raindrops were fiercely pounding on the old wooden house. Laura looked out the window. The surroundings, which had been sunny just thirty minutes ago, were now a dusky, dust-colored scene like late evening just before sunset. It was hard to predict when the rain would stop. If it rained all night, they would have to be trapped here for a whole night.
'I shouldn't have ignored the signs.'
Laura sighed and fidgeted with her throbbing right hand.
Meanwhile, he sat quietly, staring at the flames in the fireplace, with his silver cigarette case from his jacket in one hand. His fingers endlessly caressed the embossed pattern on the case. Laura read nervousness in his movements.
"Do you want to smoke?"
He smiled faintly.
"A little."
"Go ahead."
"I don't do it in front of ladies."
"It's okay in front of friends."
"I don't want to pollute the air you're breathing."
Even so, he compulsively opened and closed the case. He sighed.
"Smoking is unpleasant in many ways. It's not good for your health and it has a bad influence on others. If I have a son, I will never teach him to smoke."
"Did you learn to smoke from your father?"
He nodded.
"I was fifteen. When I returned home for vacation, my father, who was in his study, called me. Instead of stroking my head as before, he shook my hand and rolled me a cigar. After that, during vacations, I would always sit in the study with my father, smoking and talking. Like adult men discussing business."
"He must have wanted to lead you into the adult world."
"That must have been it. Around that time, I began to seriously prepare to take over the Dalton family. My father is gone, but the Dalton family and cigars remain by my side. And this case, too."
He lightly shook the case in his hand.
"I received it from my father as a gift for entering Cambridge."
"That's wonderful."
"It's my favorite of all the gifts my father gave me. I've carried it with me wherever I go, from my Cambridge days until now. As a result, I kept fiddling with the cigars in the case, and the smoking habit became completely ingrained in me. My father must have intended to share his tastes with his son. I understand, but if it were me, I would rather go fishing with my son."
Amidst the sound of the rain, the sound of firewood burning crackled.
"I envy you for having parents who could pass something down to you. I didn't inherit much. Not habits, not memories, not gifts."
"You yourself are their legacy."
"But my insides are filled with things that have nothing to do with them."
His eyes seemed to be asking a question. Was it the warm fire and the sound of the rain that softened her heart? Words that she had never spoken to anyone flowed out.
"I no longer think that my parents' love was a foolish thing. I can sympathize with how my mother wanted to escape the Pendleton family, and I know that my father tried to take responsibility for the consequences. But even if I were in the same situation as them, I wouldn't make the same choice. Not because it's wrong, but because I'm not that kind of person."
