Chapter 29 Country Life 23 2/4 Reel (Two-part...
The light of hundreds of beeswax candles streamed through Netherfield's ballroom, coating every young face like melted honey.
Heather was still leaning on the railing on the second floor, looking down. This time, she finally had the chance to appreciate the vivid picture of a Regency-era ball.
This is really amazing, Heather kept sighing in her heart.
This belated perception is like lying on the sofa watching TV just before the midnight bell rings, and then being pulled into the TV just after that. Two hundred years of time are compressed into a reality that is within reach in an instant.
The air was a complex sweet smell, a combination of beeswax, the orange blossom in the ladies' hair, and the applewood smoke from the fireplace.
The sound of violins rang out, and the hems of skirts in the banquet hall twirled neatly into upside-down goblets. Even the most boring man or the most prudish woman, in such a scene, gained a touch of ethereal charm.
That's the magic of a social dance.
The intermission was very short. Soon, the first round ended and the music for the second round began.
"Whose family is that lady in a white dress with a lavender belt?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed behind her, followed by inquiries from several ladies.
Heather leaned over to the middle of the hall and looked carefully. A moon-white dress stood out among a row of dresses of different colors and fabrics.
The Regency era pursued more natural beauty, and formal dresses were no longer made into exaggerated long skirt styles like those in the Rococo period of the 18th century. Nowadays, they were mostly made of light materials such as muslin or Indian silk. Although they were more comfortable to wear in daily life, they looked a little dull when twirling at a ball.
"That's Charlotte Lucas!" Mrs. Bennett's exaggerated voice was hard to ignore. Her tone sounded a little sour. "Mrs. Lucas, where did you find such a nice dress for Charlotte? It must have cost at least five pounds. You really spent a lot of money this time!"
Mrs. Lucas also sounded a little bewildered. "This is the dress Charlotte bought when she was twenty. You've seen it before, but why does it look different?"
It was Charlotte, she had already altered the dress!
The modified skirt wasn't overly dramatic; its hem remained light and restrained. But the bias cut transformed the otherwise ordinary dress's drape, fit, and movement.
As Charlotte exchanged positions with her partner, her skirt formed asymmetrical spiral folds, like gentle, natural waves, a truly spectacular sight to behold from the second floor. The widened belt around her waist accentuated her figure, and Heather could faintly hear the gentlemen whispering around her.
Heather searched the corner of the first floor and found Mr. Collins alone, holding a glass of wine and staring eagerly at the center of the hall. Elizabeth was dancing with Mr. Darcy, and the others were not his primary targets for invitation.
The song ended and everyone started looking for new partners. Heather took two more glasses of rum ice cream from the passing waiter and stared at Mr. Collins intently.
As expected, he ran over to invite Charlotte to dance, but Charlotte seemed to politely refuse and entered the dance floor again holding the hand of a tall man in a red uniform.
Heather took a big bite of ice cream and put it in her mouth, falling into deep confusion.
Mr. Collins was pedantic and boring, a complete mismatch for a busty girl like Charlotte. But an officer with no fixed address and a low income was materially inferior to Mr. Collins. Most importantly, if someone was drawn to a woman simply for a new dress, there was no question of true attraction.
Heather frowned and thought for a long time, and suddenly felt that the appearance of this skirt did not seem to be a good thing. If Charlotte met a worse scumbag, she would have good intentions but ended up with bad results.
The ice cream in her hand was hollowed out, and a hand reached out from the side to take away her empty cup and handed her a new chocolate sauce ice cream. Heather subconsciously thanked her and took it, then suddenly reacted and looked to the side.
It's Lancaster.
"I was scared to death. I was wondering who was so familiar with me. Even Mary went downstairs to play the piano." Heather muttered a complaint, turned around and took another mouthful of chocolate ice cream, grimacing at the cold.
Lancaster chuckled softly, leaning against the railing next to her. "What are you looking at so intently? Do you remember what flavor of ice cream you just ate?"
Heather glanced at him lazily and said weakly, "When did you come? I didn't even notice."
"Good question. I can't remember exactly." He gestured for his attendant to bring a glass of warm water. "Anyway, I admired your colorful expressions for at least ten minutes."
Heather broke free from the intense thought process in her mind, not wanting to eat another bite of ice cream. She obediently placed the ice cream cup in Lancaster's outstretched hand and took the glass of lemonade.
The third dance had already begun downstairs, and Charlotte was still on the stage. This time, her dance partner was finally Mr. Collins, whom she had been waiting for for a long time.
Heather pointed to Lancaster and said, "I just think that the young lady is so smart, has a clear mind and is very capable. She is not suitable for the funny and narcissistic man sitting opposite her."
Lancaster glanced down casually, then turned back to look at Heather. She pouted, looking very unhappy, her face wrinkled into a ball, not like a lady in her thirties, but like a child who was playing tricks and didn't want to accept the facts.
This face would be enough to stir up trouble in London or Paris, but here she was in this unknown countryside, worrying about the most ordinary things.
"Are you distressed?" Lancaster whispered. "Do you want to help her?"
Heather suddenly realized: "Yes, I can help her. When I become a rich woman, I will have enough money to help her. Maybe she can have a better ending."
Lancaster seemed amused by her bluntness. "How are you going to help her? If she's as smart and clear-headed as you say, there must be something about that man that's worth her patience. Are you going to use money to guarantee her the rest of her life, or use it to find her a better man?"
Heather deflated and leaned back against the railing. "What should I do? I feel like I could do something, but it feels like I'm not doing anything."
Lancaster fell into deep thought for a moment. The scene before him overlapped with a scene from more than ten years ago. He had tried to stop it in the same way but watched helplessly as a marriage that was doomed to fail was born.
But he quickly pulled himself out of it: "An unhappy marriage is probably the most likely event. The union of two people with similar interests and suitable for living together is an anomaly. At least if you only use money, you can't help her, let alone others in the same situation as her. What if next time, another friend of yours or one of your nieces falls into the same predicament?"
The noise of the ball gradually faded away. Heather's fingers unconsciously stroked the rim of the cup. The spinning skirt downstairs seemed to be slowed down, but her thoughts were running faster and faster.
Lancaster was right. Marriage was a necessary step for most women of this era, especially for middle- and upper-class women who were not engaged in production.
This all-round inequality in property control, productivity, and status has exacerbated the difficulty of a happy marriage. Even for a marriage like the Bennetts, where love is the primary source of affection, it is difficult to say how much regret either party feels after the passion fades.
Could she simply ignore everything that happened? Today it was Charlotte, a woman she didn't know well, tomorrow it might be Mary, who had always been with her. Perhaps one day, she herself would be faced with the same path, having to bravely forge ahead. She was still so young, and marriage hadn't been completely eliminated from her life.
If one day I had to rely on marriage to survive, what would I do? Would someone come down from the sky to save me? Could I save myself? Heather silently tortured herself in her heart.
She finally realized that perhaps money alone wasn't enough. The peaceful countryside and the protection of her siblings gradually softened her resolve to plan for the future, creating a sense of security and hope. She felt as if all she had to do was wait patiently for her late husband's money to arrive, and she could rest easy.
Actually, it wasn't. The money belonged to someone else, and she didn't even know how the original owner had managed to bring so much property and account books back to the country intact during the turmoil. Moreover, in this era, those with real power could deprive her of her property with a single word. And now, she was completely pinning her hopes on Mr. Lancaster to secure her property.
I should do something, Heather muttered to herself. At least I should try to build something to strengthen my own abilities. Only then would I live up to this excellent start, have the opportunity to strive for greater freedom and more choices, and possibly help those I care about.
Heather didn't notice that Lancaster's eyes were fixed on her face, watching her go from distress to confusion, and then to determination and eagerness to try.
Lancaster thought, she was so easy to understand, completely unable to control her expression, or perhaps she had no intention of controlling her expression in front of him; but she was also so difficult to understand, how could she be so easily aroused? What unexpected surprises would she finally come up with? Lancaster simply couldn't wait to see.
But now, there is something more important.
"Don't worry, this isn't something that can be resolved overnight. Tonight should be spent relaxing, Mrs. Lawrence. Do you want to dance?"
"Dancing?" Heather came back to her senses in disbelief. She had always thought that Lancaster was not the type of person who was willing to show off his dancing skills in public, and if they ended up like this, she didn't know how many people would comment on them.
"Forget it, you may not believe it, but I can't keep up with the rhythm of this fast 2/4 time reel now. In fact, I haven't danced this complicated and varied country dance for almost ten years." In fact, she herself has never danced it.
"Besides," Heather hesitated, looked around, and then lowered her voice, "Isn't our status suitable to be dance partners? I mean, a widow and an unrelated man."
Lancaster raised an eyebrow. "It's already the 19th century, ma'am. Are you still so old-fashioned?"
Heather's eyes widened. How could someone from two hundred years ago call her old-fashioned? Who was the old-fashioned one?
Lancaster went on to say: "It is perfectly normal for an unmarried man to invite a noble widow of good reputation to dance. Even married nobles need to maintain their social network through extensive interactions, and it is not unusual for him to invite other ladies for a short dance at the introduction of his wife.
Well, you nineteenth-century British were pretty open-minded, too.
Heather took the opportunity to ask the question she had been wanting to ask: "Ah, then, excuse me, you don't have a wife, right? Or an ex-wife?"
They had been communicating through letters. In Heather's mind, Lancaster was more like a paper man or an artificial intelligence that answered every question. She was rarely truly curious about him, and it could be said that she had never understood him from a worldly perspective.
She didn't recall the tone and timbre of his voice until they met yesterday, and didn't know his age until this morning. He had only then transformed from a vague image behind the text into a real human being.
Lancaster slowly tugged at the fingertips of the leather gloves on his hands: "No, of course not, never. But you actually remember to ask now?" He looked as if he had been waiting for someone to ask.
Heather slapped her forehead, suspecting that the alcohol content in the rum raisin ice cream was too high.
"Uh, well, I just suddenly remembered the conclusion I made when I was facing Major Brown: a normal man in his thirties, unless he has a physical problem or is too picky, is basically impossible to have never been married."
Lancaster remained silent.
"So what kind are you?" Heather really wanted to know. "Since the atmosphere today is so relaxed and pleasant, please satisfy my curiosity."
Lancaster took out his pocket watch from his vest pocket and glanced at it. "How about this, Madam? Promise me to meet you in five minutes on the long corridor connecting the ballroom and the garden, and I'll tell you the answer. How about that?"
Heather: "I promise... Wait! Five minutes? The corridor? Why?"
Lancaster didn't give her a chance to regret. "Okay, the answer is it's not because of any physical problem. Maybe it's because of my personality. Of course, it could also be because I am the low-probability event in your theory. After all, being basically impossible and never having been married doesn't mean it's certain, right?"
After Lancaster finished speaking, he took two steps back, bowed slightly, turned around and walked towards the stairs behind him.
"Hey..." Heather felt cheated. It was as if he hadn't said anything at all! She leaned back against the railing indignantly. When she looked up, she saw Mrs. Bennett waving at her with a smile like a flower. Standing next to her was Major Brown.
Heather quickly turned her head and pretended not to see anything. She hesitated for two seconds, then went down the stairs on the other side.
The banquet hall of Netherfield was built in an exceptionally grand style. The stairs here were probably not built for daily walking at all. Each step was curved into a certain angle, so that it took thirty or forty steps to get from the second floor to the first floor.
Along the way, Heather rejected the invitations of two men, avoided three waiters serving champagne or desserts, and watched Mary blushing as she was pulled into the dance floor by the young son of a squire before finally coming out of the side door to the garden corridor.
Lancaster leaned against the third marble pillar outside the door, with the shadows of the tall palm trees behind him at night and the candlelight from the ballroom shining through the glass windows on his face.
"Let me see..." He drawled out his words and slowly took out his pocket watch again: "It took a total of seven minutes and twenty seconds. You are late, ma'am."
Heather rolled her eyes quietly. A little bit of alcohol was enough to let her go. She said in a dramatic tone, "If you knew how many young gentlemen stopped me along the way, you would definitely not blame me for being late, sir."
This sentence successfully choked Lancaster, making him look very aggrieved.
Heather was satisfied: "So, why did you call me out, sir? Are you going to teach me to dance secretly here?" Standing here, you can get a glimpse of the band in the hall, but it's too unsafe. I always feel that someone will secretly see us.
Lancaster said seriously, "If it weren't for certain considerations, I would have planned to do so." This sentence used the subjunctive mood, which sounded very grammatically complicated. "But the reel being played now is a bit too fast for beginners."
Heather agreed.
It seemed like it was going to rain, and the night wind blew towards her with humid air. Heather relaxed and enjoyed the relaxation of the moment. The candlelight was cut into pieces of light and projected on the ground. She lifted her skirt and stepped on it one step at a time, and the hem of her skirt swayed in pleasant ripples.
No one spoke for a long moment, until Lancaster spoke.
"Mrs. Lawrence."
Heather looked up at him blankly.
Lancaster: "Actually, I was planning to come here today to report to my direct supervisor. After several months, if I don't have any work results, it would be a shame to pay my salary."
He took out an unopened envelope from the hidden layer of his right lapel, picked up a corner of the envelope with two fingers of his left hand and held it up to show Heather. The corners of his mouth raised in a noticeable arc, as if he was showing off a butterfly he had just caught.
Heather took the envelope from him, still completely confused as to what was going on.
"Here is the account register for the movable property that has been transferred to your name, including Bank of England notes and deposits with Barings Bank and Rothschild Private Bank. The total is 30,000 pounds. This cash amount alone far exceeds the dowry of a middle-class noble lady."
Heather couldn't help but open her mouth wide, and her hands were shaking a little as she removed the wax seal.
"The original share certificates for the Manchester Canal are also included. The latest assessed market value is approximately £15,000. In addition, there are approximately £40,000 in British government bonds and East India Company bonds. The bond transfer process is very slow, so it will probably take several months. However, the interest and dividends will be paid to your account on time."
"Add to that other income-generating stocks and short-term notes that haven't yet gone through the process, and your total assets could reach approximately £100,000. While you don't own any land yet, your level of liquid assets is clearly higher than that of a middle-class country gentleman."
"So," Lancaster lowered his eyes and glanced at her face, which was slightly flushed with excitement, "You are already a truly wealthy person. You have enough capital to do whatever you want."
Heather now truly experienced the feeling of unexpected wealth, of suddenly becoming rich from the poor. She hadn't dared to hold onto any concrete expectations for this inheritance before; after all, the feeling of having a dream dashed wasn't exactly pleasant. But now, she had actually received the money! The bank document officially opened with her full name; those confusing zeros were truly in her name!
She was now both excited and frightened. She wanted to rush into London waving her checkbook and spend lavishly, but she also wanted to hide all the account books deep in the closet to prevent them from being stolen by any unscrupulous person.
"Can I really do anything with it?" Even if it is tens of thousands of pounds, it is not too difficult to squander it, but it is not an easy task to use it as raw capital to expand reproduction.
"I don't understand the rules of the game in London at all. I don't have outstanding business ideas or a shrewd mind. I have some valuable knowledge, but I'm not sure if it will be applicable to the local environment. Oh, I don't have any useful connections except my brother. So, do you still think I can do whatever I want?" Heather asked him uncertainly.
"Of course." Lancaster answered her affirmatively: "And at least your network of contacts is no less than anyone else's."
Heather thought confusedly, Lancaster's opinion of my brother is so high, could it be that my brother is actually a big shot in the London business world?
"Am I not a most useful network?" Lancaster straightened his back and adjusted his tie. "I'm well versed in London's rules and regulations, and I'm quite astute. If you need any resources, please make full use of my connections, Mrs. Lawrence."
The wind speed suddenly increased, the leaves of the palm trees in the garden rustled, and a raindrop as big as a pearl fell among them. They all looked out. It turned out that the rain that had accumulated for many days finally fell down in full force.
Late autumn is coming.
The ball was unusually long. The Bennetts' carriage didn't officially depart until nearly midnight, and Mary returned to the carriage almost immediately. Her face still flushed with excitement, and once she was in the carriage, she collapsed exhausted on Heather's lap.
Heather gently brushed the hair away from her face and asked, "Who is dancing with you today?"
"Who? Which one? I danced with three people today!" Mary said with a smile, closing her eyes.
Heather said, "Really? Are you happy then? Do you like any of them?"
"Glad!" Mary chuckled. "But I don't like them. I can hardly remember how they danced."
"I was very happy, simply because I seemed to have finally stopped being upset about not being asked to dance. Auntie, you know, the method you taught me was very effective. Those simple-minded boys didn't care what music I played, they only cared about whether I played the piano well. I did as you said, and I succeeded."
She sat up and stretched in the cramped carriage, then looked at Heather earnestly and said, "One successful verification is enough. I have achieved my goal 100%. I don't want to practice the little sonatas required for the ball anymore. I want to use my time to practice my favorite 'Appassionata Sonata' or read 'The Wealth of Nations'!"
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