“The rain stopped rather quickly, didn’t it?”

At noon in the bright Whitefield, Ian gazed out through the wide-open window of the dressing room at a cloudless sky, his face etched with deep melancholy.

“Three days doesn’t seem that quick to me.”

Laura, who was tying her husband’s necktie, gave a playful smile.

Originally, Ian had planned to return from Sheffield, rest for a day, and then board a train to Leeds. However, the past three days had left him stranded in Whitefield due to a relentless downpour that canceled train services.

Ian made good use of the three days his schedule was disrupted. Between catching up on postponed work, he visited Laura’s study to soothe her hands with warm compresses, strolled with her through the Long Gallery listening to the sound of rain, and led her to the east guest room—where they had once dramatically reconciled—to share moments of love.

Having spent the past month on a hectic schedule inspecting business sites, the autumn rain had gifted him a sweet respite.

“If a task must be done, it’s better to finish it quickly, darling.”

“I know. That’s why I’m preparing for this trip.”

He was to board a train to Leeds today, his final destination. It was the last stop not only because Leeds was the farthest from Whitefield but also because, beyond his business inspections, his visit to the engineering college there was expected to be extensive.

Ian had long supported scholarships at Leeds Engineering College. Leeds was a city renowned for wool and industry, and fostering educated technicians while advancing engineering research was vital.

As Ian owned many businesses in Leeds, the growth of its engineering college was of great interest to him. He hoped the college would offer a broader curriculum to local youth and become a institution worthy of supporting students from other regions. During this visit, he planned to discuss the establishment of humanities programs with the dean.

He also needed to persuade the board of trustees and meet with scholarship recipients to encourage their studies—an indispensable part of his duties. The trip would take at least four days.

Ian looked down at Laura. His industrious wife, diligently tying his tie, seemed even more endearing than usual. Her face, revealed clearly with her hair pinned up, was as pure as the autumn sky. A pearl earring, rarely worn, dangled from her round earlobe, and the misty gray-blue chiffon dress she wore accentuated her slender, graceful figure like fog in a forest.

To think he had to leave such a wife and the estate for four days.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go.”

He sighed into the air.

Laura adjusted the knot of his tie and helped him into his vest. Though a male servant typically assisted, Laura always took over when he prepared for a long journey.

As she fastened a pocket watch to his waistcoat, she said, “You promised we’d be together for a while after this trip. We’ll be inseparable for so long that four days apart seems trivial, doesn’t it?”

Ian toyed with the pearl at her ear.

“You’re right.”

Yet his voice carried a heavy reluctance.

“But being right doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Darling.”

Laura looked up at her husband, her smile dazzlingly bright.

“Let’s go to Europe.”

“Europe?”

“Yes. Until next spring.”

“Well, that sounds fine. But what brought this on? I thought you found traveling abroad daunting.”

“I just… want to be with you for a while. Forget the neighbors, my translations, household duties.”

The corner of Ian’s mouth curved upward.

“How did such a romantic idea come from the mind of a diligent mistress?”

Laura took Ian’s hand, pressing her cheek against his palm.

“You’ll go, won’t you?”

“If you wish it, how could I refuse?”

Ian cradled Laura’s cheek with his other hand and kissed her lips deeply.

“The regret of leaving just melted away.”

“And my reluctance to let you go is gone too. Now, your arms.”

Laura helped Ian into his jacket. He slipped his arms through the sleeves, straightened the shoulders, and buttoned it up.

“Pick out places you’d like to visit while I’m gone.”

“Alright.”

Laura tucked a handkerchief into his breast pocket.

Arm in arm, the couple stepped out of the manor. A black carriage, loaded with luggage, awaited them. Servants stood in a line to see their master off.

Ian scanned the servants, nodding in acknowledgment, before looking down at Laura one last time.

He leaned in and whispered, “Promise me. If I resist kissing you now, you’ll be on top when I return.”

“I promise.”

He’d expected her to shyly turn away, but she answered readily. Suppressing the urge to pull her into a tight embrace, Ian patted her shoulder.

“Stay well until I return, my lady.”

Laura replied gently, “Come back safely, darling.”

No one could have guessed the intimate deal struck between the couple—so refined was their farewell.

The carriage set off. When it had traveled some distance from the manor, Ian leaned out the window to glance back. Laura, with her hands clasped, stood watching the departing carriage, her figure growing smaller until she was a mere speck.

Happiness swelled in his heart.

Laura had a knack for making him happy with the smallest things—a smile, a gesture, a quiet expression of love. And with such subtle proofs of her affection.

As the carriage passed through the manor’s gates and entered a forested path, Ian settled back in his seat. Propping his elbow on the window frame, he rested his chin in his hand. With his legs crossed, he absently rubbed his index and middle fingers together, recalling his conversation with Laura.

‘A trip to Europe.’

It was a splendid idea. He’d always wanted to take a long journey with her. Though they’d gone on a honeymoon after their wedding, it was a mere two nights in the modest seaside town of Lyme.

He imagined holding Laura’s hand as they admired Rome’s vibrant fountains, discussing the city’s history at the Colosseum. They’d climb Montmartre in Paris, stroll along the Seine at night, dine on Spanish cuisine in Madrid, and watch a bullfight together in Plaza Mayor.

‘Why didn’t I think of this sooner?’

He smiled, gazing out the window. The damp late-autumn forest, its leaves half-fallen, looked to him like a verdant May landscape.

But as he pictured himself comforting a trembling Laura during a thrilling bullfight, a sudden thought struck him.

‘Why a trip all of a sudden?’

The smile faded from his lips. He lowered his eyes, his long lashes casting a shadow.

When they were planning their wedding, Ian had once made a similar proposal—a two- or three-month trip abroad. Laura had shaken her head.

‘There’s no place I look forward to more than Whitefield. Two nights in Lyme are enough.’

At first, he’d been disappointed by the short honeymoon, but he soon understood her sincerity. Determined to excel in her role as mistress, Laura had wanted to master her duties at Whitefield and improve their life there.

Within a month of their brief trip, Laura had become an exemplary homemaker, managing Whitefield Hall with ease. Through their newlywed life, Ian built memories sweeter than any tourist adventure could offer.

Laura had been right. They hadn’t needed an extended honeymoon.

Given her sense of duty, her decision to set aside unfinished translations and household responsibilities for a long trip was peculiar, to say the least.

‘What’s going on?’

Ian began to ponder. Had something recently troubled her?

He couldn’t tell. He’d been away so often lately, inspecting business sites.

His mood soured. The thought that Laura might be hiding something unsettled him deeply. Her happiness was as vital to him as the future of the Dalton family. If she was troubled, he needed to know so he could resolve it.

‘I’ll meet with Ramswick when I return from Leeds. He’d know best about her daily life.’

With a slightly heavier heart than when he’d left, Ian gazed out the carriage window. The vehicle had just left the village and was climbing an open hillside. The prolonged rain had left the roads muddy, but thanks to sturdy wheels and a seasoned coachman with forty years’ experience, the carriage rolled steadily toward the train station.

‘The roads are rough, but I’ll make it to the station before the train departs.’

Ian considered reading a book he’d brought for the journey. But just as he turned his gaze from the window, an odd sight caught his eye—a human figure. On a day so slippery from rain that even shepherds and desperate beggars avoided walking, an elderly gentleman in a black frock coat and a young boy were frantically running across the fields.

Ian leaned out the window and shouted to the coachman, “Stop the carriage beside that gentleman.”

The carriage soon pulled up next to the old man. The elderly figure, panting heavily, halted beside the abruptly stopped vehicle.

Upon seeing him, Ian exclaimed, “Doctor Mackenzie?”

The old man, gasping as if he might collapse, widened his eyes at Ian.

They knew each other. When Ian’s sister, Mrs. Fairfax, had been bedridden with postpartum illness after her youngest child’s birth, it was Doctor Mackenzie who had helped her recover.

“Where are you rushing off to?”

Catching his breath, the doctor replied, “The miller’s wife in the village, Mrs. Dawson, is… struggling with puerperal fever, hovering between life and death…”

Without hesitation, Ian flung open the carriage door. The two quickly climbed into Mr. Dalton’s elegant black carriage.

Ian ordered the coachman to head to Dawson’s mill. The carriage turned toward the village.

Doctor Mackenzie, still hunched over and gasping, seemed ready to expel his very innards. Sitting opposite, Ian worried that the capable old physician might expire in his carriage.