Epilogue

It was the day of Miss Dora Lance and Mr. William Fairfax’s wedding.

Countless London notables gathered at the church. On the stone steps leading to the chapel, the hems of golden, pale green, and red dresses fluttered in the May spring breeze, while gentlemen in sharp suits whispered excitedly with acquaintances, their faces no less animated than those of the ladies.

For them, today’s wedding was a grand event they had eagerly anticipated for months. And why not? It was the day when the protagonist of a scandal that had shaken London society a year ago would don a bridal veil.

As people took their seats in the chapel, hardly anyone refrained from murmuring about that affair. Even the prim old ladies, who pretended to be above sordid gossip, couldn’t help but recall it in their minds.

How could they forget? The Whitefield hunting party, where a star of high society plummeted in disgrace.

Miss Lance was, at that time, the brightest star, a fragrant bloom with a promising future. Everyone expected her to secure the most eligible bachelor in her debut season and change her surname, and no one doubted this prediction.

Suddenly appearing in society, Ian Dalton, the great landowner of Whitefield, was the man most likely to wrap Miss Lance up neatly and take her home.

But things took a strange turn. Ian Dalton invited everyone to Whitefield and assigned the role of hostess to a woman no one had paid attention to—Laura Pendleton. A twenty-nine-year-old spinster with no dowry, born to illegitimate parents, abandoned by her family, and belonging to a house that had fallen into ruin.

What followed was even more intriguing. Throughout the hunting party, Miss Lance followed Ian Dalton around so pathetically it was painful to watch. Meanwhile, Ian Dalton, with almost comical distaste for Miss Lance, trailed after Miss Pendleton.

This incident was a catastrophe that sent Miss Lance’s standing crashing to the ground in an instant.

At the time, the engagement of Miss Lance and Mr. Dalton was considered a foregone conclusion among society. Dozens of young ladies spread rumors they claimed to have overheard in the ballroom lounge, lending credibility by saying they heard it directly from Miss Lance’s friends.

Miss Lance’s friends, when questioned about the rumors’ truth, used ambiguous language—neither confirming nor denying—effectively advertising the rumors as fact. Miss Lance herself did little to deny them.

This was tantamount to her personally proclaiming an engagement.

But what was this? Why did Mr. Dalton publicly declare his protection of Miss Pendleton and adorn her with the late Mrs. Dalton’s clothes and jewels? And why did Miss Lance cling to Mr. Dalton with a face that looked on the verge of tears?

This sparked all manner of speculation. Some said Mr. Dalton was toying with Miss Lance while also making advances toward Miss Pendleton. Others claimed Miss Lance, in a fit of passion, had thrown herself into Mr. Dalton’s bed, only for a horrified Mr. Dalton to feign interest in Miss Pendleton to shake her off.

Nonsense, others argued. Surely Miss Lance’s mother had tried to borrow money from her prospective son-in-law before the wedding, causing the groom to lose affection.

None of these speculations boded well for Miss Lance. Coincidentally, around the same time, it was revealed that the Lance family was so financially strained they couldn’t provide a suitable dowry for their daughter’s marriage, rendering Miss Lance’s reputation irreparably damaged.

The goddess-like Miss Lance, once admired by countless gentlemen, now seemed like a wilted flower discarded on the street, unsold by the flower girls of Covent Garden.

Ladies of marriageable age and mothers with daughters to marry began digging up and exaggerating every irksome detail of Miss Lance’s past behavior, branding her as arrogant and reckless.

The unsavory gossip about Miss Lance seemed destined to persist for years.

But it wasn’t long before the tongues wagging about Miss Lance were left agape.

News of Miss Lance and Mr. Fairfax’s engagement broke.

Mr. Fairfax, while not quite on par with Mr. Dalton, was considered an excellent catch in society. As a second son, he possessed an unusually large fortune, and his character and lineage left nothing to be desired.

They rented a grand banquet hall, inviting all of London to a splendid engagement ceremony. The couple complemented each other perfectly and appeared happy—a vision of a beautiful, gallant pair.

Soon after, word spread from Miss Lance’s friends about the truth of her relationship with Mr. Dalton.

As everyone knew, Miss Lance had been introduced to Mr. Dalton through Miss Pendleton. But neither had any interest in the other. Mr. Dalton was fond of Miss Pendleton, while Miss Lance had her heart set on Mr. Fairfax.

The two, caught in unrequited love, often met to share their troubles. Their closeness was mistaken for intimacy, leading to widespread misunderstandings. Bound by a promise to keep each other’s secrets, they couldn’t actively clarify the rumors, which only fueled talk of their engagement.

So why, at the hunting party, did Miss Lance follow Mr. Dalton so persistently?

There was an explanation for this as well. Miss Pendleton, aware of Mr. Dalton’s feelings, believed him too great a match for her and rejected his proposal. But Mr. Dalton persisted. In the end, Miss Pendleton turned to Miss Lance for help, asking her to dissuade him from pursuing her.

Thus, the situation was resolved. Mr. Dalton emerged as a romantic who proposed to Miss Pendleton despite her lower status, Miss Pendleton as a prudent lady who humbly stepped back despite her miraculous fortune in attracting such a suitor, Miss Lance as an unjustly maligned lady who bore a tarnished reputation to help a friend, and Mr. Fairfax as the hero who rescued a lady in distress.

Most people accepted this as a dramatic romance. However, a few self-proclaimed sharp observers insisted it was all a story concocted after the fact.

In any case, the rumors surrounding the four individuals remained a topic of conversation that kept tongues wagging even on the day of the wedding.

The chapel, filled with the scent of fresh flowers, buzzed with the murmurs of small groups like a bustling marketplace. Some marveled that Mr. Fairfax had paid for both the engagement and wedding, while others lamented that Miss Lance, had she been wiser, could have married a wealthier, titled man.

But the chatter ceased when someone nudged their neighbor.

At the chapel entrance, Mr. Dalton and his wife had arrived.

The chapel fell silent. All eyes turned to the entrance.

The couple walked slowly down the aisle. Mr. Dalton, dressed impeccably in a chestnut suit and gentleman’s hat, was as striking as when he first appeared in London society.

But the true captor of everyone’s gaze was Mrs. Laura Dalton, arm in arm with her husband.

A voluminous pale blue silk dress. Ruby hairpins adorning her elegantly upswept auburn hair. A dazzling diamond necklace sparkling at her throat. White silk gloves embroidered with gold vine patterns.

The spinster Laura Pendleton, who once sat in corners with her hair pinned in a net and dressed plainly to fill a seat, no longer existed.

In her place stood a beautiful, noble lady—the sole mistress of the distinguished Dalton family, Laura Dalton.

People’s eyes scanned her. Gentlemen simply marveled anew at her beauty, but the ladies were far more attuned to the details.

They noted the refined lines of her dress, recognizing the work of a French tailor, and saw that the jewels adorning her were rare in London society for their craftsmanship and size. Above all, the diamond wedding ring on her finger was fit for a royal betrothal.

Some women felt jealousy, others admiration, and some hope.

The Dalton couple took their seats, seemingly oblivious to the torrent of gazes, and leaned toward each other to converse quietly—a picture of a refined, affectionate pair.

People turned their eyes away and resumed discussing the Dalton marriage in hushed tones, inaudible to the couple.

Ian Dalton and Laura Pendleton had wed the previous May in a quiet ceremony attended only by family and Miss Pendleton’s friends.

Society spun all sorts of speculations about their marriage as well. Skipping an engagement and rushing to wed invited inevitable gossip.

In society, it was customary to hold a long engagement before marrying to avoid the impression of a marriage necessitated by pregnancy.

What was the hurry, people wondered? Some boldly claimed it must be a pregnancy. Yet no news of a child born at Whitefield had surfaced. And today, Mrs. Dalton’s appearance showed no signs of being with child.

At one end of the chapel, where the organ and harmonium stood, a group of middle-aged ladies gathered, with a middle-aged viscount, the lone man among them, chuckling.

“Must be the husband’s impatience. Wanted to share a bed with his pretty bride sooner.”

His wife, the viscountess, chimed in.

“Indeed. Who knew she was that pretty before?”