Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 39

39. What Dance and Marriage Have in Common

Why am I just sitting here listening to this nonsense?

Richard Spencer silently etched the sharp words directed at Grace Gurton into his mind, suppressing his growing discomfort. He was seated in a far corner of the Pump Room, away from where Grace Gurton, Edmund Beaufort, and a mix of unfamiliar individuals had gathered.

Richard hated the Pump Room, and his return here was solely because of Lancelot and Eleanor.

Recently, Richard had frequently “accidentally” encountered Grace in the garden of the Spencer villa. But today, instead of crossing paths with Grace, he ran into Lancelot and Eleanor, who had just returned from the Pump Room.

“It seems Aunt has decided to officially introduce Miss Gurton into society. I saw her exchanging pleasantries with Edmund Beaufort. As the so-called ‘King of Bath,’ he could be a great help in expanding Miss Gurton’s social circle.”

At Lancelot’s casual remark, Richard’s eyes narrowed. Wasn’t Edmund Beaufort the one who had ogled Grace on the rugby field, calling her mysterious?

By now, Beaufort must have realized that the woman from Grentabridge was Grace Gurton. Could that bastard end up devouring Grace? That reckless bear would face hundreds of bee stings yet still secure the honey he coveted.

He couldn’t let Lady Montague’s precious honey jar fall into the hands of such a beast. Seeing her heartbroken would be an unforgivable betrayal as her nephew. That was the noble mission behind Richard’s rat-like sneaking into the Pump Room, a playground for the idle rich.

Despite the distance, Richard could clearly hear their conversation because everyone in the Pump Room had fallen silent, listening intently to the chatter from Grace’s table. Occasionally, they exchanged glances and snickered, making Richard’s blood boil.

“We know Miss Gurton’s mother well.”

“Indeed, a most romantic love story.”

“I dream of such a bold romance myself.”

One comment led to a flood of discussion about Grace’s mother. Disguised as praise, they mocked and insulted her parents with their crude remarks.

Richard scanned the room under the pretense of looking for servants and observed Grace. She listened to the jeers directed at her without displaying any visible displeasure.

Was she unfamiliar with the language of high society and therefore oblivious to the ridicule? If so, that might be a blessing.

“Miss Gurton’s voice is truly lovely.”

“I agree. I wish she would speak more often.”

That was another barb. Mocking her stutter under the guise of flattery. Richard’s grip tightened around his glass.

“I-I beg your pardon for a moment.”

Grace excused herself as she rose. Edmund extended a hand toward her.

“Allow me to accompany you.”

Edmund Beaufort found the situation just as uncomfortable. If he had known his friends in Bath were such insufferable people, he would never have introduced Grace to them.

Regretting his decision, he seized the opportunity to escort her away. He intended to lead her somewhere private where he could ‘analyze’ the mystery of her gaze more deeply.

“I-it’s fine. I’ll be back shortly.”

Grace declined his hand and left alone. Edmund, visibly deflated, sank back onto the sofa.

Richard debated whether to follow her. However, he knew that if anyone saw him heading in Grace’s direction, it would undoubtedly spark rumors.

Besides, this was a chance to overhear what the remaining individuals might say about her. He could document every word and then employ every resource of the Spencer family to ensure…

“May I take this seat if it’s not too much trouble?”

Oh, not that bastard again. Just hearing that insufferable voice made Richard’s left temple throb.

“Of course, Lord Wilford!”

The woman who had been most hostile toward Grace brightened instantly. Richard glared at Theresius Wilford as he joined Edmund’s group, furrowing his brows so deeply it felt like his forehead might crumple.

“Where is Miss Grace Gurton? Lady Montague suggested I join her here.”

“Theresius?”

“Long time no see, Edmund Beaufort.”

Wait, wasn’t this the same Wilford who had ruined their rugby league chances? A flicker of hostility appeared on Edmund’s face as he hesitated before greeting him.

“What brings you to Bath?”

“Oh, Bath? I’m here to be with Miss Grace Gurton.”

“What?”

Everyone was stunned. Anyone familiar with Ingrintian society understood the implications of Wilford’s statement.

“So… does that mean…?”

Edmund Beaufort, forgetting all about the rugby match and his previous hostility, trailed off hesitantly. Was Theresius implying, ‘This woman is mine’?

Theresius answered clearly, as if making a public announcement, “It means I have romantic interest in Miss Grace Gurton. You should prepare to offer your congratulations soon.”

So suddenly? In such a setting? Edmund Beaufort was dumbfounded, his lips twitching wordlessly.

The air in the Pump Room turned icy. The assembled men and women were utterly flabbergasted upon hearing the engagement news, which everyone except Grace Gurton seemed to know about.

“Why?”

The sound of a breaking glass seemed to echo throughout the room. The question came from the lady who had warmly welcomed Theresius Wilford earlier.

“You haven’t even known Grace Gurton for long.”

So I wasn’t wrong. Richard Spencer felt a grim satisfaction that his earlier prediction—Theresius Wilford luring women with his dull, parasitic face—had been correct.

What other reason could explain the woman’s reaction, as if her handbag had been snatched? Theresius must have flirted indiscriminately before setting his sights on the big catch, Grace Gurton.

“Do you know what dancing and marriage have in common, Lady Seymour?”

So that insufferable woman’s name is Seymour. Richard committed her surname to memory, determined to exact revenge on her by any means necessary. While terrible at recognizing faces, Richard had an uncanny ability to recall names.

Why couldn’t Theresius just answer the question directly instead of stalling for dramatic effect? Richard shot him a glare, unaware that Sebastian often thought the same about him.

“What?”

The lady asked back.

“Whether it’s dancing or marriage, the choice lies with the man.[1] As a man, I have chosen Miss Grace Gurton. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Theresius’s response left the lady sulking, as if she wanted to retort, ‘I haven’t chosen you, and I never will.’

“But yesterday…”

The lady murmured. Suspicious of her unfinished sentence, Richard kept listening closely.

“Are you referring to our dance at the Assembly Room last night?” Theresius asked with an awkward smile.

“That…”

“If you misunderstood my invitation to dance, then it seems I’ve made a grave error.”

“But…”

The lady couldn’t finish her sentence. Her earlier confidence, evident when she criticized Grace Gurton, had evaporated.

So it was all over a single dance? And with that plain, parasitic-looking man? Richard felt deeply disappointed.

Wait, why am I even disappointed? Why am I pricking up my ears like a prowling cat, utterly engrossed in this meaningless conversation?

Grace Gurton likes me. Feeling concerned for a woman who likes me is simply human decency and minimal conscience.

Whether it’s a stray dog by the roadside or a beggar at the mansion gates, showing compassion is a true mark of nobility. So what’s the harm in showing mercy to Grace Gurton, who loves me unconditionally? Thus, my current feelings are entirely normal.

Richard Spencer, master of self-justification, nodded solemnly to himself.

“Theresius Wilford. But…”

Edmund leaned forward and spoke, “Even if the choice is yours, doesn’t Miss Grace Gurton have the right to refuse?”[2]

Oh, since when has Edmund Beaufort, the bumbling bear, started making sense?

“If you haven’t reached an agreement with her, discussing it like this behind her back isn’t appropriate.”

Wow, another valid point from Edmund. Richard’s tense expression eased into a faint smile.

“It’s quite rude, honestly. Miss Grace Gurton deserves respect. She’s a lady of marriageable age, and she has the right to meet various gentlemen and make her own choice.”

What’s going on? Is that fool also interested in Grace Gurton? With each word from Edmund, Richard’s thoughts and expressions shifted like the unpredictable, dreary weather of Ingrint.

“Ah, you may be right.” Theresius conceded with a calm expression, “I have discussed future plans with Miss Grace Gurton during our time in Lydon.”

“What plans?”

“Who knows?”

Theresius’s vague reply to Edmund’s eager question only deepened the mystery.

Probably some nonsense about poorhouses. Why is he spreading it around like it’s something significant? Richard gulped down the remaining contents of his glass, irritated.

“In any case, your advice is correct. When Miss Grace Gurton returns, I’ll have a serious conversation with her.”

The moment Theresius finished speaking, the sound of the door closing echoed through the Pump Room, piercing the tense atmosphere. For someone as polished as Richard Spencer, it was unusually loud.

However, no one realized he had been there until he stepped outside, maintaining his refined demeanor just long enough to leave unnoticed.

Author’s Footnotes:

[1] Partially modified quotation from Henry’s dialogue in Northanger Abbey, Volume 1, Chapter 10

[2] Partially modified quotation from Henry’s dialogue in Northanger Abbey, Volume 1, Chapter 10