[Full] Miss Pendleton - Chapter 60

A governess’s attire. It was ambiguous. It had to be more elegant than servants’ uniforms, but appear more modest than her masters’. Lavish jewelry was not allowed, and dresses revealing the collarbone or accentuating the hips were naturally forbidden.

Anne became perplexed. Miss Pendleton was more frugal than other socialites, but she was still a noble lady who frequented London society. Most of her clothes were formal attire acceptable in aristocratic circles.

Dinner dresses, evening gowns for balls, dresses for tea parties and outings. Not a single item, from hats to gloves, was not of the finest quality. Among Miss Pendleton’s twenty dresses, Anne could find only three suitable for a governess.

A gray muslin dress with black vine embroidery along the edges. A plain green tartan dress. And a brown silk dress that, though somewhat risky, could look decent if paired with a modest cape.

She folded these clothes into the trunk. Half the trunk was filled. Miss Pendleton filled the remaining half with bundles of letters and her books, a Latin Bible and a collection of epic poems in Greek, philosophy books in German and several essays in French.

Miss Pendleton instructed Anne to burn all unnecessary documents and letters, then went to her dressing table. She folded her favorite hairnets and wrapped them in a pocket, then poured all the jewelry she had been keeping into a small cloth pouch and tucked it deep into the trunk.

Then she packed unadorned gloves, shoes, and shawls into the trunk. After some deliberation, she included the pure white lace shawl as well.

Soon, Anne returned after burning all the documents. Miss Pendleton was looking around the room to see if anything was missing.

“So, you’ll be attending the funeral, right?”

Miss Pendleton shook her head.

“Then, when the will is revealed?”

Miss Pendleton smiled.

“There will be no inheritance for me.”

“Why?”

“Uncle changed the will. Or more precisely, he forged it. All I have now is what’s in this trunk.”

Anne rushed to Miss Pendleton.

“That’s impossible! You even called a lawyer. There was a notary too.”

“They’ve become rich from this. Uncle gave them 10,000 pounds each.”

“That’s absurd. How can one be so cruel!”

Miss Pendleton silently went to the desk and gathered some notebooks and writing materials. Anne approached Miss Pendleton and said:

“File a lawsuit, Miss!”

“A lawsuit?”

“Yes, Miss. A lawsuit. You know my fiancé is a lawyer, right? Although he’s been at the firm for less than a year, he’s capable and smart. He’s already won three trials. Never lost once. If he knows about this situation, he’ll fight for you!”

Miss Pendleton looked at Anne quietly. Then she placed her hand on Anne’s shoulder and stroked it.

“Thank you, Anne.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve always been warm and kind to me, Miss. You always forgave me when I made mistakes when I first started serving you, and you even gave extra wages as wedding gifts each time my sisters, whom you’ve never even met, got married… Now, let’s first testify about what I heard after the will is revealed…”

“Anne.”

Anne looked at her. She shook her head.

“Miss! You can’t back down like this. Forging a will is clearly illegal! I’m sure you’ll win! Don’t you want to reclaim your grandmother’s last inheritance?”

“I do want to reclaim it. Of course. But I can’t sacrifice so much for something without possibility.”

“Without possibility? Are you saying there’s no evidence? I have my ears! And what is there to sacrifice?”

“Your marriage.”

“What?”

“Our uncle never loses. He’s not the type to lose. If you think about the legal battle between grandmother and uncle 20 years ago, you’ll see. He hired dozens of lawyers and dragged it on for years, wearing grandmother down. For seven long years. Even grandmother, who was so wealthy, eventually gave up. I believe your fiancé is capable, but he’ll miss opportunities to take on other cases because of this. And as a result, your marriage will be postponed indefinitely. Five years, maybe even ten.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll postpone that mere marriage if I can right the wrong done to you, Miss.”

Miss Pendleton shook her head.

“No matter how I look at it, this is a losing battle, Anne. Even if we win, there won’t be anything left for me after paying the legal fees. It’s better to focus on teaching children in that time. And it wasn’t my money to begin with. Let’s forget it. Let’s forget about it.”

Anne stomped her feet, crying “But, but,” before bursting into tears.

“It’s too unfair!”

Miss Pendleton quietly watched Anne sobbing. Anne, who always cared more about her affairs than herself. Anne, who would express the emotions she always suppressed. She was her precious friend. More precious than the connections she had made in society.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I have savings that I’ve been putting aside little by little. And I have knowledge in my head. There’s probably no governess in London who knows as much as I do. I can live on my own just fine, Anne. So stop. Stop crying. Don’t make me sad.”

Miss Pendleton comforted Anne. By the time Anne stopped crying, about ten minutes remained.

Miss Pendleton asked Anne to distribute her expensive dresses, hats, gloves, and shoes that she couldn’t take with her as farewell gifts to the maids. She handed Anne a paper envelope and asked her to give each male servant one pound note from inside. Anne burst into tears again because of her mistress fulfilling her duties as a master until the very end.

Miss Pendleton, wearing a black cape over her mourning dress and a plain black hat without decoration, descended the stairs. There were no servants in the house, each dealing with their own sorrow. Miss Pendleton was able to reach the entrance without being seen by anyone.

Standing at the entrance, Miss Pendleton suddenly stopped. She felt as if something was holding her back. She stood still for a moment before asking Anne:

“Could you bring me Whitefield’s painting from the drawing room?”

Anne hurried to the drawing room. At that moment, heavy footsteps were heard from upstairs. It was Gerald Pendleton.

“It’s been an hour. Get out now.”

“There’s still something I need to pack, Uncle.”

“That’s not my concern. Get out now. Before I call the servants to throw you out!”

Miss Pendleton stood still. Soon he loudly called for the servants. The servants came out in a fluster.

“Drag that woman out.”

At Gerald Pendleton’s order, the servants were confused.

“You won’t even allow me a minute’s dignity. I understand your will, Uncle. I won’t ask for any more mercy.”

Miss Pendleton picked up her trunk. The heavy weight painfully strained her shoulder muscles. Miss Pendleton struggled to drag it out.

A servant approached to help her.

“Anyone who helps that woman will be kicked out barefoot!”

The servants’ movements stopped at once. Just then, Anne, who had brought the painting from the drawing room, saw this scene and hurriedly approached Miss Pendleton, grabbing the trunk.

“Let me carry it, Miss.”

“No, Anne. It’s fine…”

“Take your hands off that luggage!”

Gerald Pendleton’s thunderous voice followed. Anne looked up at Gerald with bloodshot eyes and shouted:

“You’re too much! You’re really too much, sir!”

“Anne! Stop!”

Anne looked at Miss Pendleton with tears in her eyes. Miss Pendleton shook her head at her. Insubordination was not acceptable. With his temper, it would mean immediate dismissal.

Miss Pendleton took the painting from Anne’s hands and dragged the trunk out of the Pendleton house.

Thus, Miss Pendleton, the de facto mistress of the most splendid townhouse on Grosvenor Street, London’s most affluent neighborhood, was driven out after 12 years. Without the help of servants, without anyone seeing her off.

Miss Pendleton grasped the trunk with both hands and walked step by step down Grosvenor Street. The darkened Grosvenor Street was quiet without a soul in sight. She walked towards Grosvenor Square in the distance.

There was no one in the park as night had fallen. Miss Pendleton set down the trunk she was carrying and sat on a bench. It was deep into the night. No one was walking around.

Miss Pendleton huddled on the bench. And she felt the awkward sensation of the mourning clothes wrapping her body. It was her first time wearing mourning clothes. Clothes she had prepared thinking she would wear them someday. And finally, that day had come.

The day she became alone in the world had arrived.

Miss Pendleton had her grandmother, servants always awaited her instructions, many people knew her in society, and she had many friends. But looking back, she felt she had always felt alone.

A feeling like floating dust. A feeling of not quite existing even though she did. A feeling of always having to prove her usefulness to someone.

Living in tension for 12 years, she always suffered from nervous headaches and never gained weight no matter how much she ate. She had never spent a single day completely at ease. The only time she could truly rest was when she imagined a future living away from the Pendleton house, but even that was only for brief moments.

But now that the day had actually come, she felt as if she had fallen into a well. Into a long darkness with no end, falling and falling.

Her grandmother, who had made her live as a Pendleton, had passed away, and she was driven out of the Pendleton house where she had lived for 12 years. She had parted ways with the social circles she had been virtually confined to until now, and now she couldn’t even use the Pendleton name. It felt like becoming stateless. It felt like a plant uprooted from the soil.

Miss Pendleton huddled her body even tighter. She felt empty and cold as if all the intestines in her stomach had fled. It was hard to steady her body as if all the tendons inside had been cut.

She thought that perhaps the wall she had confined herself within might have been a fence protecting her until now. She had longed for freedom so much, but now that she was completely free, she felt suffocated like a fish pulled out of water.

Miss Pendleton took a deep breath. The crisp June air seeped into her stomach. She thought it was fortunate that she had left the house in June. If it had been winter, it would have been even more daunting.

She stayed huddled like that for a while. The strength that had left her body showed no signs of returning. She didn’t even have the energy to shed tears. It felt as if all the vitality had drained from her body.

She was merely immersed in an empty feeling. She raised her head and looked at the park. At Grosvenor Square engulfed in pitch-black darkness.

A weak laugh escaped her. It was funny how she had naturally come to this place she had been reluctant to even pass by for the past 12 years.

That incident 12 years ago. Her first love. A trivial scandal in society that had already faded from everyone’s memory.

But it was as vivid as yesterday in her mind. It appeared in her dreams just when she was about to forget, hindering her from forgetting.

That memory, along with the pearl pendant around her neck, served to firmly lock Laura’s heart.