The fighting continued inside for a while. Miss Pendleton stood quietly in front of the door, listening to the conversation. Soon, Mrs. McLean came out of the room, huffing. She lowered her eyes guiltily upon seeing her friend standing at the door.

“Laura… I’m sorry, but it might be best not to see you today.”

Miss Pendleton smiled.

“It’s alright, Rosemary. Don’t worry about it.”

Mrs. McLean, confirming there was no particular regret on Miss Pendleton’s face, felt even worse and bowed her head.

Of course, it would be a lie to say Miss Pendleton wasn’t upset at all. But Miss Pendleton had known well how others perceived her since she turned twenty-five.

An unsold old maid. The worst fear for mothers with daughters.

She had accepted that this was an inevitable part of how she was seen since giving up on marriage.

She patted Mrs. McLean’s shoulder to indicate she shouldn’t worry, then quickly climbed the stairs.

Knock knock−

Miss Pendleton knocked on Miss Hyde’s door on the fifth floor. There was no sound from inside. Was she sleeping, or was she holding her breath, waiting for her family members to leave, thinking they were looking for her? Miss Pendleton put her mouth close to the door and said softly,

“Miss Hyde, it’s me, Laura Pendleton. Are you asleep?”

Soon, there was a rustling sound from inside the room. Then came the sound of water splashing and fabric rustling. Shortly after, the sound of slippers approached the door, and with a click, it opened.

Miss Pendleton was at a loss for words. Miss Hyde’s face, which had always been thin, was indescribably haggard. It seemed she hadn’t eaten anything for days, having sent back all the food for the past few days.

Miss Hyde let Miss Pendleton into her room. She offered her the rocking chair and sat on the bed herself.

Miss Pendleton had to try hard to manage her expression as she entered the room. It was difficult to hide her dismay.

The London townhouses, being places where nobles from various estates stayed only during the social season, were much smaller and simpler. Many lacked a library or hall, and all rooms, from the parlor to the master bedroom, guest room, and nursery, were less than a quarter the size of those in country houses on the estates.

As such, in houses with many family members, unmarried ladies often shared rooms, and if one got to use a room alone, it was usually a relatively small and cramped space.

But Miss Jane Hyde’s room was extreme in this regard. Even with just a bed, a small wardrobe, and one chair, the room was packed. Her books couldn’t all fit on the shelves and were piled up in one corner.

Most pitiful of all were the stacks of paper and inkwell on the windowsill. The windowsill, barely at chair height, served as her desk.

Miss Hyde, noticing Miss Pendleton’s gaze on the stack of papers, went to the windowsill and knelt on the cushion placed beneath it. She closed the inkwell and tidied up the scattered papers, turning them face down.

“If I write in the living room, Mother always tries to read it.”

Miss Pendleton, observing Miss Hyde’s back as she knelt, realized this was her usual posture for writing. It was a heartbreaking sight.

“I stopped by because I heard you weren’t eating. Your sister is very worried.”

“Ah.”

“No matter how upset you are, you shouldn’t neglect your health. I brought some raspberry cookies. Try to eat at least those for now.”

Miss Hyde said nothing. Miss Pendleton had a servant bring the cookies.

Miss Hyde, sitting on the bed, stared silently at the cookies on the plate for a moment before turning to look out the window without touching them.

“If you’re feeling guilty about Mr. Fairfax, don’t worry. When I visited Miss Janet Fairfax recently, I asked and heard he had gone hunting on his brother’s estate. At least he’s not abstaining from food and drink.”

Miss Hyde continued to stare out the window, avoiding Miss Pendleton’s gaze. She seemed lost in thought as she looked at the London streets outside. Her profile exuded an air of melancholy. But there were no traces of tears or heartbreak on her face.

What emotion was in Miss Hyde’s heart?

Miss Pendleton stood up and sat next to Miss Hyde. She took Miss Hyde’s firm, long hand, accustomed to holding reins and pens.

Miss Hyde neither pulled her hand away from Miss Pendleton’s grasp nor opened up about her feelings, remaining as she was.

After a moment, Miss Pendleton spoke.

“Are you regretting it?”

Miss Hyde shook her head after a pause.

“It was for the best, for both Mr. Fairfax and me.”

“Do you really think so?”

Miss Hyde looked at Miss Pendleton. And nodded.

“Yes.”

Miss Pendleton smiled faintly.

“Then that’s good.”

Miss Hyde stared at Miss Pendleton’s face for a while, then opened her mouth as if to say something. But her lips trembled and closed again. Instead, tears welled up in Miss Hyde’s eyes.

Miss Hyde lowered her head. The tears that fell from her eyes wet the back of Miss Pendleton’s gloved hand. Miss Pendleton said nothing and continued to hold Miss Hyde’s hand tightly.

When Miss Pendleton’s suede gloves were thoroughly dampened, Miss Hyde raised her head. Her face was tear-stained. Miss Pendleton wiped Miss Hyde’s face with her other hand.

“Miss Pendleton.”

Miss Hyde called her in a cracked voice.

“Do you have a future you can envision?”

Miss Pendleton thought about Miss Hyde’s words for a moment, then nodded.

“Are you inheriting an estate?”

“There’s no inheritance coming to me. That was the condition for being recognized as a Pendleton.”

“Me too. There won’t be any inheritance coming to me either.”

Miss Pendleton wiped Miss Hyde’s face, closely examining her expression. Miss Hyde’s face was a mix of various emotions. Things like anxiety and guilt. The kind of rock-bottom emotions that make a person shrink infinitely.

“Are you not eating because you’re afraid of the future?”

Miss Hyde remained silent.

“People can live in any way.”

“…I don’t want to live just any way.”

Miss Hyde shook her head.

“Since Father passed away, our family has been sinking. No one in the family acknowledges it, but it’s clear from the way Brother John behaves. If we lose this house too, we’ll have to move to a country house, and I, being unmarried, will have to live alone with Mother. For the rest of my life.”

Miss Hyde shuddered.

“I’d rather starve to death now.”

“There must be other paths, Miss Hyde.”

“What path is there for me, who missed her last chance at twenty-five? A governess? Me, who barely attended school for a year and never properly learned French or art? Or a maid? I who lose hats placed right beside me, I’d probably be kicked out within a week. I’ll likely either die of stress living with Mother, or run away and become a vagrant. It would be better to die safely at home now.”

Miss Pendleton looked at Miss Hyde quietly.

She felt a sense of déjà vu. Ah, twenty-five was a remarkable age for a woman. She had been grappling with the same worries as Miss Hyde at exactly twenty-five. As the last chance for marriage slipped away, and as an unmarried maiden with no possibility of inheriting anything, she had felt threatened.

The prospect of living a lonely life forever wasn’t actually the problem. The most frightening thing was poverty. And the shabbiness that always accompanies poverty.

Every night, the fear that all the protective environments around her would completely disappear by the next morning, and she would fall to an incomparably lower state than now. How that fear had tormented her.

It was quite some time before she could sleep properly again.

Miss Pendleton smiled at Miss Hyde, who wore a gloomy expression.

“Miss Hyde, you can become anything.”

“What could I become?”

“Well, a gypsy, or a fortune teller, or a witch.”

“What?”

“Or a snake oil salesman, or a bullfighter, or a fairy.”

Miss Hyde gave Miss Pendleton an incredulous look at her sudden jest.

“Miss Pendleton, are you making fun of…”

“Or, perhaps, a typist.”

Miss Hyde stopped speaking.

“I once bought a typewriter with the intention of becoming a typist. This was before I realized becoming a governess would be better. The typewriter was quite expensive, so I had to use some of my savings. It’s still in the study, but I haven’t used it in a while. It’s too valuable to just give away, but I’ll lend it to you.”

Miss Hyde blinked.

“Come to our house for typing practice two hours a day, from six to eight in the evening. In three months, Miss Hyde will become the finest typist in London. You’ll be able to work in any office that needs paperwork done, and then you can live with other young ladies in a boarding house instead of with your mother. How’s that?”

Miss Pendleton picked up a cookie from the tray and pressed it into Miss Hyde’s hand.

Miss Hyde looked at the cookie for a moment before crunching into it. Then she started eating the remaining cookies on the tray. Miss Pendleton watched her and thought.

Twenty-five. A harsh age for an unmarried lady. But for a lady who had found a way to make a living, it could be the age when a new life begins.

* * *

And a month later, Mr. Fairfax, who had overcome his heartbreak by shooting dozens of pheasants at his brother’s hunting ground, returned to London.

Along with his in-law’s son and close friend, Ian Dalton.