The smile vanished from Mrs. Fairfax’s face, replaced by an anxious and uneasy expression, as if she had stepped on a small thorn hidden in her shoe.

She anticipated that the Laura before her would reproach her for acting rashly. By age, status, and the wisdom Dora herself acknowledged, Laura was qualified to admonish her.

Dora Fairfax did not fully understand Laura. That was why she harbored such fear toward her.

“…Yes, I remember.”

The young Mrs. Fairfax, like a criminal confessing, clasped her fingers together and lowered her head with a subdued expression.

Laura gently took both of Mrs. Fairfax’s hands in hers.

“Mrs. Fairfax, my husband and Mr. Fairfax are the dearest of friends and now kin by marriage. We are practically family. So, I will confess to you, trusting that you will understand my flaws with a more generous heart than others.”

Mrs. Fairfax lifted her head. Laura was smiling softly.

“In truth, that story was from when I was seventeen.”

Mrs. Fairfax’s eyes widened. Laura continued.

“Of course, I’m leaving out the part about marrying a wealthy man thirty years my senior. Looking back, it’s quite embarrassing. Back then, I was foolish and impulsive. I was more prudent than my peers, but before love, I was powerless. I didn’t yet know the ways of the world or understand life. I made mistakes and paid a heavy price.”

Laura’s cheeks flushed slightly, as if embarrassed.

“It took a long time to forgive the girl I was back then. I was consumed with self-blame and cried a great deal. Honestly, until recently, I wasn’t entirely free from that time. That’s why, during my days in society, I worked so hard to pair so many ladies with good men. I didn’t want other women to repeat my mistakes.”

Dora gazed at her silently, her eyes filled with empathy, compassion, and respect for Laura.

“There were parts of me that grew because of those wounds. I became far more cautious and learned how to read people. When embraced, wounds become fertile soil. Many only realize this truth late in life: no one grows without mistakes.”

“…”

“Everyone makes shameful mistakes. God created us as imperfect beings. He wishes for us to become complete through living. The material for that completion is our mistakes. We become better through them—by realizing, acknowledging, and changing. So, there’s no need to cling to the pain of minor wrongs committed in youth.”

Dora finally understood why Mrs. Dalton had brought up the past. It was to help Dora let go of the shameful mistake she had made.

Dora was astonished. How could Laura know her so well? Since realizing her foolish actions, Dora had not gone a single day until her wedding to Mr. Fairfax without thinking of that mistake.

Every night, she recalled her immature self, foolishly swept away by hope, and could not sleep. Whenever she heard news of Whitefield from Mr. Fairfax, she secretly ached with embarrassment toward Mr. Dalton and guilt toward Laura.

Of course, Dora had put great effort into loving Mr. Fairfax and found immense happiness by his side. But a part of her heart was always shadowed by self-reproach. The more she learned about Mr. Fairfax, the more admirable he seemed, and the more she felt inadequate compared to him.

Was she truly worthy of being this man’s wife? She often asked herself this question inwardly, never once able to answer with certainty.

Mrs. Dalton understood her heart. And she comforted her, saying it was alright, that everyone lives and grows in this way.

Tears rolled down Dora’s cheeks.

Mrs. Dalton calmly took a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her. Dora wept quietly. She did not break down in sobs but let tears fall with composure, showing the restraint of an adult.

Soon, she calmed herself and returned the handkerchief.

“Mrs. Dalton, I cannot fully express how much I admire you. If I had an elder sister like you, I would have matured much sooner.”

“You’re still young.”

“But I was too late to recognize Miss Pendleton’s excellence. The same goes for Mr. Fairfax. If I had remained in my immature days, I wouldn’t have seen him as a man, simply because he’s a second son.”

“But you ended up with him. Few ladies in London are as fortunate as you.”

“Won’t I be an inadequate wife to Mr. Fairfax? What if I disappoint him and make him regret our marriage? Sometimes, I’m afraid. I want to make him happy.”

“Mr. Fairfax will only grow happier with you. There’s no one as generous and easily content as he is, and you respect him. A woman who respects her husband rarely disappoints him. Respect naturally leads to effort for his sake. It’s a force that sustains love longer than burning passion.”

Dora nodded. If Mrs. Dalton said it, it wasn’t mere comfort. It was wisdom, like a proverb steeped in truth.

Deep in her heart, Dora trusted Mrs. Dalton. To her, Mrs. Dalton was no longer just a relative by marriage. She was a mentor for life, someone to trust and follow forever.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dalton. So…”

Hesitant to bring up the past, Dora trailed off, and Mrs. Dalton finished for her.

“For coming to the wedding, lending a handkerchief, and blessing our future?”

Dora gave a pretty smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Dalton. Everything you said is right.”

The two looked at each other with warm eyes.

As the Fairfax couple departed for the port bound for Marseille, the guests dispersed. The Dalton couple also boarded their carriage to leave the reception.

As soon as Laura climbed into the carriage, she leaned back heavily against the seat.

“Tired, Laura?”

Ian, sitting close beside her, asked.

“A little.”

Laura murmured in a weary voice. Attending a social event after so long was exhausting beyond words. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the peaceful life at Whitefield. London’s social scene now felt as stifling as a corset made of whalebone, cinched to its limit. She marveled at how she had endured twelve years in such a place.

‘Then again, back then I was always plagued by indigestion. My shoulders were constantly tense, too.’

Laura had spent her life believing her stomach was weak. She frequently suffered from indigestion and was easily upset by spicy foods.

But since marrying, she hadn’t been troubled by stomach issues. Her shoulder stiffness persisted, though not from stress but from the daily translation work she did.

Even after marriage, Laura continued her work. Though no longer driven by the need to earn a living, she took pride in using her skills productively.

Laura’s pride was Ian’s pride. He renovated the large library annex at Whitefield Hall to create a private study for her. There, Laura worked, read, and spent her days with purpose and happiness.

With such a husband, a wife couldn’t help but love him. Laura’s love for Ian grew daily, breaking all limits.

“Take a nap. I’ll wake you when we reach the hotel.”

He lowered the carriage window’s shade.

“Then I’ll close my eyes for just five minutes.”

Without a word, he took off his jacket and draped it over her. As he often did when they were alone, he slipped his hand behind her neck and gently massaged her shoulders.

Her tense muscles relaxed pleasantly. Smiling at her husband’s thoughtful care, Laura closed her eyes.

How much time had passed? Laura, who had been dozing comfortably, opened her eyes. She felt refreshed but slightly dazed, as if waking from a long nap.

Puzzled, she glanced beside her. Ian sat quietly, lost in thought.

“Ian, how long did I sleep?”

He pulled out his pocket watch from his vest to check the time.

“About two hours?”

Laura sat up straight, startled.

“Good heavens, that long?”

“You must be exhausted. It’s been a while since we took a night train.”

“You should’ve woken me.”

“I enjoy watching you sleep the most. I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

Laura laughed at Ian’s playful reply.

She lifted the shade. The London afternoon was slowly sinking into an orange sunset.

“This doesn’t look like the way to the hotel.”

“I told the driver to take a drive. Let’s go for a short ride.”

Laura smiled and nodded.

Ian extended one arm toward her. Laura, in a way unimaginable a year ago, naturally nestled into his embrace.

Resting her head on his broad chest, she felt his strong arm wrap around her shoulders.

His lips pressed firmly against her forehead. Laura toyed with his watch chain, savoring the sensation of his lips.

Since their marriage, she must have felt his lips thousands of times. Yet, to Laura, it was always as sweet and thrilling as the first time. The day she grew accustomed to this sensation was surely far off. And the day it became numb…

‘Won’t come until I die.’