Edward turned his gaze to sweep across the reception hall.

Finding Miss Pendleton among the many ladies and gentlewomen was no easy task. It was especially difficult for Edward, a sailor unaccustomed to women’s fancy attire. But for the sake of his anxious wife beside him, he had to locate Miss Pendleton.

He tried to recall Miss Pendleton’s usual characteristics. Golden hair neatly fixed in a hairnet. Skin as fair as his wife’s, modest and tidy clothing.

The pearl pendant necklace she always wore. Her habit of quietly conversing with a friend in a corner or silently observing people.

He carefully scanned the less conspicuous areas of the reception hall, and soon Miss Pendleton came into view. As usual, she had her hair neatly arranged in a hairnet and wore a silk dress with minimal decorations. She was in the midst of a serious conversation with a young lady dressed as modestly as herself.

Edward promptly approached their table with Elizabeth.

Noticing the couple coming towards them, the two ladies abruptly stopped their conversation and stood up. They curtsied. A few words of formal greetings and well-wishes were exchanged.

However, as soon as the lady beside Miss Pendleton cleverly excused herself to fetch some food and disappeared towards the buffet, Elizabeth immediately discarded formalities and rushed to embrace her.

“Sister, why didn’t you come to the dressing room! You were supposed to check my dress!”

Miss Pendleton gently stroked Elizabeth’s head.

“I’m sorry. Grandmother’s dizziness worsened, so I had to stay by her side all morning.”

Elizabeth released the embrace and looked at Miss Pendleton with a worried expression.

“Is she very unwell?”

“No, it’s not serious. She just needs rest, but she was quite angry when the doctor told her to rest. She complained about why this had to happen on our Beth’s wedding day.”

“Oh dear. Should I stop by briefly before we depart today?”

“No, absolutely not. She’ll be even more upset if your schedule is delayed because of her. And all that irritation will be directed at the poor doctor.”

“Hmm, then I suppose I should refrain for Dr. Webster’s sake. Alright, please convey my regards to her. And tell her I’ll write as soon as we arrive in Italy. Oh, I must buy a gift for Grandmother. Sister, what do you think would be a good gift?”

“For Grandmother, it’s always the same. The latest sheet music and novels from Italy.”

“Good. And for you?”

“Stories from your Italian adventures and a hairpin.”

Elizabeth shook her head as if she had expected that answer.

“No, no, there’s something you need. You need a snow-white lace shawl. The most expensive and elegant shawl in all of Italy.”

Miss Pendleton chuckled.

“What’s this, my answer was already decided?”

“Of course.”

Miss Pendleton gazed warmly at Elizabeth with her deep gray eyes.

“Buying gifts for others will already be a mountain of luggage, don’t add unnecessarily to it.”

“Nonsense. I may forget others’ gifts, but I can’t possibly forget yours. If it weren’t for you, Edward and I wouldn’t even be going on a honeymoon. Right, Edward?”

As Elizabeth turned her head as if seeking agreement, Edward nodded with as much agreement as his usually expressionless face would allow.

“That’s right, Beth. We may forget others, but we must give a gift to Miss Pendleton.”

“See, Sister? Even my husband says so.”

Miss Pendleton smiled awkwardly.

“In that case, Beth. Just a small hairpin will do.”

“No way. The shawl you always wear is dull and doesn’t suit your skin color at all. If you keep refusing, I’ll bribe your maid to sew the shawl onto your favorite green tartan dress.”

Miss Pendleton burst into laughter. Her usually pale cheeks turned slightly rosy. She looked at Elizabeth with eyes full of affection and then kissed her smooth, clean forehead.

“Alright, Beth. I’ll gladly accept it.”

Elizabeth returned the kiss. Then she hugged her waist tightly and briefly buried her face in her neck. Elizabeth felt as reassured as if she had buried her face in her late mother’s lap as a child.

Soon, Mrs. Morton, who had left her sister’s embrace and stood beside her husband, shared her future plans with Miss Pendleton. From the immediate plans of where and how they would spend their honeymoon in Italy, to the long-life plans of how many children they would have and how they would raise them.

As always, Miss Pendleton listened attentively with her clear, focused gray eyes and offered warm words of encouragement. After several tens of minutes passed, the couple, conscious that lingering at one table for too long was not proper etiquette, bid farewell to Miss Pendleton with hugs and handshakes and left her table.

Miss Pendleton watched the retreating figures of the Morton couple, arm in arm, for a long time. Her heart was blooming with pride. Just as it had when she saw Elizabeth walking down the wedding aisle on Lord Dyer’s arm earlier in the ceremony.

Why wouldn’t she be proud? It had been 12 years since she first met Beth. Twelve years ago, when she had just left boarding school and visited Lord Dyer’s house with her grandmother, Beth was only seven years old.

Beth had taken her, a stranger she had just met, to her playroom, introduced her to all her dolls, and served her sugar tea that she had made herself.

Since then, Beth and Miss Pendleton had been friends. More than friends, they were like sisters. To think that this child had already grown up and married a fine husband, changing her surname. She felt nostalgic and strangely sad.

Feeling as if she might cry, she shook her head and sat down. She took a few sips of the coffee beside her. It had gone cold and lost all its flavor. Just then, Miss Jane Hyde, the lady who had vacated her seat earlier, returned to the table with a cup of hot coffee and a plate of cake.

Miss Pendleton noticed an unfamiliar stain on Miss Hyde’s skirt that hadn’t been there before, and instantly knew she had spilled something while eating again, but said nothing.

Miss Hyde replaced Miss Pendleton’s cold coffee with the hot one and placed the cake between herself and Miss Pendleton. Miss Hyde’s face bore the same troubled expression she had worn during their earlier conversation.

Miss Pendleton inwardly sighed and resumed their interrupted conversation.

“So, you’re saying Mr. Fairfax is likely to propose sometime this week?”

“Yes.”

Miss Hyde nodded, resting her hand on her forehead.

“He’ll probably visit the day after tomorrow. He’ll kneel in our parlor, grab my hand, and say it straight out. To marry him. He’s not one to beat around the bush. What a troublesome situation. Who would have thought he liked me…”

Miss Pendleton refrained from mentioning that everyone in London who knew them both had imagined just that.

“Yes, it must be quite shocking for you, Miss Hyde. In fact, while the one proposing has thought about it dozens of times and prepared for it, for the one being proposed to, it’s like an accident that happens out of the blue. Still, it’s fortunate, if you can call it that, that Mr. Fairfax at least sent a letter to give you warning. But Miss Hyde, to my eyes, it seems you’re troubled by something other than surprise. May I ask what the problem is?”

Miss Hyde bit her lip as she looked at Miss Pendleton.

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t know?”

Miss Hyde picked up her fork and stabbed the cake.

“Mr. Fairfax is an excellent man. He listens well to whatever I say, shows interest, and never frowns even when I make silly mistakes. Remember when I fell off my horse and showed up with my riding clothes covered in mud? Mr. Fairfax didn’t flinch at all and treated me like a duchess.”

“That’s right. He’s a very good man. And?”

“And…”

Miss Hyde seemed to be searching hard for words, rolling her brown eyes. But in the end, she said nothing and just chewed her lip while mashing the innocent cake.

Miss Pendleton couldn’t help but feel puzzled by Miss Hyde’s attitude.

Mr. Fairfax was an excellent suitor. He was the second son of a well-established country family and a self-made businessman in the trading industry. He was tall, handsome, and owned his own land and country house.

There was only one possibility for an unmarried lady in London to be so troubled in a situation where she was being courted by a man with such good conditions as Mr. Fairfax. That she already had a marriage promise with another man. And that the new suitor had better conditions than the promised man.

In such cases, women fiercely struggle between their loyalty to their fiancé and the temptation to switch horses for the new suitor. Sometimes, this struggle became so deep that it led to death.

However, Miss Pendleton could assert that Miss Hyde was unlikely to have such concerns. It wasn’t a matter of morality.

Miss Hyde had absolutely no interest in romance. Her interests were solely cricket, horseback riding, and thick, hardbound books. Miss Pendleton, having known her for well over a decade, could testify even before God that the objects of her passion had always remained the same.

Miss Pendleton quietly sipped her coffee, waiting for Miss Hyde to say something on her own. But Miss Hyde was solely focused on mashing the cake with her fork, turning it into a single, unsightly lump.

Some incomprehensible thoughts were still circulating in her head. Clearly something she couldn’t understand herself, but also couldn’t ignore, couldn’t possibly ignore – she was struggling to identify the nature of some emotion.

It was an unusual sight for Miss Hyde, who normally had an excellent vocabulary and could come up with words for anything.

Miss Hyde eventually stuck her fork into the lump as if planting a flag in her territory and muttered.

“Miss Pendleton, if I refuse the proposal, Mr. Fairfax will be very sad, won’t he?”

Miss Pendleton nearly dropped the cup she was holding.

“You’re thinking of refusing?”