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Author's Chapter Notes:

Thank you all who read and comment this story! Your responses inspire me and motivate to write (and be faster with updates). It means a lot to me. 

So. The Evening. 

Pamela returned to Dunder Hall while Sir Michael and his guests were still dining. It gave her time to prepare herself and change her usual simple dress for a little more presentable gown, the gift from her father that had been for her sister's wedding. Pamela fixed her hair and considered that she was ready, at least, in her appearance; the state of her mind was confusion for one half and fear for another. 

She left her room and went to the Blue Salon, still half-light and empty. More to calm herself than out of the habit, Pamela started to light the candles, placing them on the tables and around the spinet. She was doing that when the doors opened, and the ladies entered the room.

'Miss Beesly,' said Lady Levinson, eyeing her briefly as if she was nothing. 'Do not let us bother you.' 

The lady sat on the sofa graciously and straightened barely noticeable wrinkles of her elegant gown; it was a clear sign for Pamela to leave the salon. But before Pamela could say anything that explained her being here Mrs. Howard interfered.

'Ah! So you are Miss Beesly! I have met you at last!' 

To her great surprise, Mrs. Howard stepped close and took Pamela's hand in hers. 

'I am sure we shall be friends. You should tell me everything about you and this place!' 

'As you wish, Mrs. Howard,' said Pamela, astonished with this greeting.

'But your dress! Did Mr. Howard not tell you to prepare for this evening? You have such a lovely face and figure, and you hide them behind such a plain gown! I have to do something about it!'

While Mrs. Howard was talking, Lady Levinson rang a bell, calling for a valet. 

'Send for Miss Flax,' she said to the servant with a barely hidden disrelish. 'I might require her service.' 

'Ah! And fetch my shawl from my chamber, the green one,' exclaimed Mrs. Howard as soon as the valet bowed and was about to go. 'It suits your eyes, Miss Beesly, and will decorate your outfit a little.' 

'I cannot take it, Mrs. Howard,' Pamela said, embarrassed. 'Thank you so much for your concern, but…'

'Nonsense!' Mrs. Howard waved her excuses away. 'You can, and you will do. There is nothing to talk about. Besides, it is just an old shawl; it does not suit me at all.' 

Miss Filippelli was watching this exchange with a smile. When Mrs. Howard started to explain to the servant where to find the required garment, she said to Pamela. 

'You should forgive my cousin, Miss Beesly. She might be assertive and persistent, but she has only good intentions and does not mean to embarrass you.' 

She made a gesture for her to sit near, and Pamela obeyed. 

'To be honest, being in the countryside is something new for us both,' Miss Filippelli continued. 'We are accustomed to living in the city and to be so far from it puzzles me a little. I have no conception of the country's standards, or traditions, or the way things are done here. Could you do me a favour and tell me about the local society? What do you do to entertain yourself? I am sure I could rely on your opinion.' 

She had asked Mr. Halpert almost the same question, Pamela recalled. Perhaps, his advice did not satisfy her interest. 

'To be honest,' answered Pamela. 'I have little time that I could dedicate to entertaining. But I enjoy novels from the library that Sir Michael allows me to use. And, if the weather is good, I go for a walk or draw.'

'Oh, so you are an artist, aren't you?' Miss Filippelli smiled. 'So, what do you prefer - crayons, watercolour, oil? And you should show me the most pleasant scenery for me to paint. It would be nice to have a little reminder of the time spent in Yorkshire.' 

'I could show you the park and the hills if you wish so, but we depend on the weather,' said Pamela. 'In this time of the year, the rains are often, so I am afraid walking would be a rare occasion.' 

'I am sorry to hear that,' sighed Miss Filippelli. 'I suppose it means we ought to spend most of the time indoors then. What a pity that this spinet is in such a bad condition. I am quite fond of music and would be delighted if I could keep practicing. Do you play, Miss Beesly?'

‘Ah! Are you talking about playing again?’ Mrs. Howard finished her quite detailed instructions to the valet and joined the conversation. She sat on the sofa near Pamela, so the housekeeper found herself sitting between the cousins. ‘About your endless sonatas and suites? I think music without dancing is nothing! Tell me better, Miss Beesly, do you have assemblies here?’ 

‘Usually, we have some assemblies in the village, though this year, Sir Michael decided not to open the season,’ answered Pamela. 

‘Oh, that is horrible!’ exclaimed Mrs. Howard with unfeigned agitation. ‘Poor Miss Beesly, that might have been a big disappointment for all the local ladies. I beg you, use all the influence you have to persuade Sir Michael to organize the ball!’ 

‘In my opinion, the public ball is that kind of gathering that is unworthy for every self-respected person,’ said Lady Levinson. Her seat was in front of the sofa three young ladies were sitting, and gazes of all of them turned to the older lady. ‘The people of lower classes, who have neither manners nor a conception of respect, are treated equally with the nobility. Besides, public balls encourage other forms of abominable and dissolute behaviour. I am glad that Sir Michael decided against the event that would be beneath his dignity.’

For a moment, the silence fell. And Pamela’s long-formed suspicion about Lady Levinson’s role in the cancellation of the Dunder-Mifflin assembly was confirmed. 

‘The picture you described is horrifying,’ said Miss Filippelli. ‘But this ball does not mean to be public. I am sure the small gathering in the mansion, for four to six pairs, would be both buoyant and decorous. I cannot find any objections against that assembly.’ 

‘Yes, but what about the proper cavaliers?’ cried Mrs. Howard. ‘I shall dance with my dear Mr. Howard, and you, for sure, will keep Mr. Halpert, but what about Miss Beesly? There is no one for her!’

The doors opened, and Pamela turned her head, startled, but it was Miss Flax, with her housewife and the green shawl. 

‘Ah, here it is!’ Mrs. Howard took the garment. ‘Thank you! Now, Miss Beesly, let me make you a little more pretty. These sleeves — you should hide them; they are horribly out of fashion. For five years, at least! What would the gentlemen say if they saw that?’

Miss Flax sat on the chair behind Lady Levinson and laid her needlework out. Her gaze met Pamela’s; the pity filled the former and the desperation the latter. 

‘Thank you, Mrs. Howard,’ said Pamela, touched the fabric of the shawl. ‘You are very kind.’

‘Ah, you are so sweet! Do not mention it, I beg you. And now, tell me, where do you buy cloth and hats and ribbons and other little things. I do not believe there are no proper shops!’

They discussed the assortment of goods in the local store for a little. Pamela spoke quietly, while Mrs. Howard reacted animatedly to every new piece of information, and Miss Filippelli asked a few questions, sometimes puzzling Pamela and occasionally helping her to escape the awkwardness. Still, even her favour could not make Pamela feel free from tension and anxiety. Lady Levinson whispered something to Miss Flax once and remained silent and motionless, having no intention to join the conversation. 

Finally, the doors opened again, and the gentlemen appeared. Pamela dreaded that moment; she had hoped that they would stay in the dining room for as long as it could be possible, but apparently, cognac and cigars were not as pleasing as the ladies’ company. Sir Michael walked first and beamed as Lady Levinson greeted him with a courteous smile. Mr. Howard and Mr. Halpert followed him; Mr. Flenderson was the last; his face was sad and bleak. 

If Pamela had not wanted to cry, she would have laughed at the change of Mr. Halpert’s countenance as he saw her, sitting between Miss Filippelli and Mrs. Howard. The light smile froze on his lips, and his eyes widened, his whole figure tensed. Pamela suspected that for a moment or two, he fought an urge to turn around and leave the room; instead, however, he went to the fireplace with forced tranquility and paid his attention to flames and coals. The reaction of Mr. Flenderson was quite different. He smiled compassionately to Pamela and sat into the armchair across the room, away from the bright light and the main circle, but still observing it. 

It seemed that no one else noticed those changes as their attention was kept with a verbose exchange between Sir Michael and Lady Levinson.

'Sir Michael! What kept you for so long? I was wondering if you forgot about us at all.' 

'How could I, my dearest Lady Levinson!' exclaimed Sir Michael, almost falling into his armchair. 'You know how I like and appreciate your company, don't you? If I knew you needed me, we would not spend so much time with the meaningless talk in the dining room.'

He was rewarded with one more gracious smile. Mr. Howard, meanwhile, stood behind Sir Michael's armchair and spoke to his wife. 

'I hope you did not miss us, my love? Have you had a good time?' 

'Lord, of course!' Mrs. Howard said affectionately. 'Miss Beesly kept me entertained. You were right, she is the nicest young girl I have ever met!'

'Well, I do believe that Sir Michael and Lady Scott could not have found the more grateful person to show their generosity and benevolence,' he said meaningfully. 'I am glad that you are among us this evening, Miss Beesly.' 

'And so am I,' Mrs. Howard continued. 'But we need to do something for her too.' 

She grabbed Pamela's hand and said to her. 

'We shall take you with us to London. I am sure, even if you did not have a great fortune, I could find you a husband or, at least, a lover!'

Pamela was mortified, unable to say anything. So, it was Sir Michael who decided to interrupt, and he made her feel even worse. 

'Pamela is a good girl, indeed, but she does not need a husband. She was engaged once and did not marry; she is fine where she is now. Aren't you, Pamela?' 

'Ah! How horrible! Poor Miss Beesly, it had to be a shock for you. But what happened? Why did you not get married?'

And everyone in the room stared at her; everyone, except one, though Pamela knew he was listening too. Out of idleness and inquisitiveness, she was forced to return into the worst time of her life to bring back the memories she desired to forget; and she had to do it in the presence of the only person who had a relation to her decision. The blush of humiliation coloured her cheeks; she mustered all of the strength that remained.

'There were a lot of reasons to call off my wedding,' she said, speaking to her hands rested on her knees. 'And I am glad I did that. Neither I would have been content in that marriage, nor the man I had been engaged to. Truth be told, he has a wife now; and any guilt I felt when my engagement had been broken vanished without a trace when I witnessed their happiness.'

'That is what I said,' Sir Michael said with delight. 'Pamela is happy in Dunder Hall. Besides, I cannot do without her. She runs the mansion so well. I cannot imagine what will happen if she has to leave me.' 

'You are very kind, sir,' muttered Pamela, looking at him briefly and returning her gaze to her clasped hands. 

After that, the conversation turned to the lacks and merits of the servants, which Pamela missed gladly. She instructed the valet when to serve the tea and returned to the observation and listening. The dull pain started to form in her temples, and every time Mrs. Howard made an especially loud remark Pamela tried not to wince. 

The tea was served. Pamela filled the cups as the guests gathered near the little tea table and thought that maybe her father was right, and she was required only as the agreeable servant. She was ready to serve and knew her position well, though even her dependent position did not excuse the embarrassing way she had been interrogated. 

Pamela gave a cup to Miss Flax and was rewarded with her friendly 'thank you,' and cold glare from Lady Levinson; the last person who did not have tea was Mr. Flenderson, who still sit far from the circle and did not dare to come closer in attempt to avoid Sir Michael's attention. Pamela took a full cup and made a few steps toward him when Sir Michael spoke to her.

'Pamela, dear, could you refill my cup, please?'

She obeyed and returned to the tea table, though she could not get rid of suspicion that Sir Michael's asking was nothing but a petty attempt to punish Mr. Flenderson. 

Finally, when Sir Michael had a second cup of tea and enough biscuits and was involved in a conversation with Mr. Howard and Lady Levinson, Pamela made her way to Mr. Flenderson.

‘I am sorry you had to wait for so long,’ she said quietly. 

‘Oh, you should not apologize, Miss Beesly,’ he answered with a weary smile. ‘I am glad that you maintain the order my sister had established.’

‘It was the least I could do to keep the memory of her alive. I loved Lady Scott as my own mother,’ Pamela said, recalling the image of her dear godmother. ‘And I still miss her.’

‘It is a tragedy that she could not be with us today. So many things would have been different, it would have been better,’ Mr. Flenderson shook his head. 

Pamela agreed with him. She thought about the moments of hesitation and perplexity she had had and about the pieces of advice Lady Scott might have given her; she felt eternal sadness at these thoughts, watching as Miss Filippelli talked to Mr. Halpert out of the tail of her eye. And yet, Pamela found solace in the realization that she had done nothing that could have tarnished the memory of her godmother, nothing that could have ashamed her. 

‘That is true,’ she said. ‘And yet, we cannot allow ourselves to live the reflection of the past. I think we should keep the memories, but at the same time, we have to find the beauty and the goodness in the ordinary things that create our lives. It is wrong to forget the past completely, but it is also pernicious to allow it to affect our present and the future.’

‘It is a good advice, Miss Beesly,’ Mr. Flenderson said sadly. ‘Though in some days, I find it impossible to follow it.’ 

‘Miss Beesly! Could you come over to us?’ Mr. Howard called her. ‘We need your opinion.’ 

Pamela sighed, and Mr. Flenderson gave her another tired smile. 

‘Sir Michael said you were the one who mostly organized the assemblies in Dunder Hall, weren’t you,’ Mr. Howard said as soon as she approached them. ‘Mrs. Howard and I want to be introduced to the local society, and we cannot find a better option to do that than the ball. What do you think, could it be done while we are visiting Dunder Hall?’ 

‘But I beg you, Sir Michael, when thinking about the balls, do not forget about the unpleasantness they could cause,’ Lady Levinson said. ‘You should think of yourself; have not you complained to me about the ache in your back and your knees just yesterday? And being in the ball hall, especially if it is crowded or has a nasty draft, could be unsafe for you.’

‘Ah! What harm could do a ball? I have never heard about anyone who had gotten ill after a ball!’ exclaimed Mrs. Howard, clearly engaged with the desire to have a gathering in Dunder Hall. ‘Besides, you could always find a snug spot near a fireplace to everybody’s content.’ 

‘Have you suffered from your aches again, Sir Michael?’ Pamela was concerned. ‘I should probably send after Doctor Bratton before your condition worsens.’

‘Probably, yes,’ said Sir Michael with a sigh. His expression was filled with so much regret that Pamela added. 

‘Sir Michael, the ball could be the next day if you wanted it to be, but I am sure you would not feel pleased just sitting in the chair and watching the dancers. You should open the assembly as you did it all these years, and if you do not feel well enough, we should postpone the gathering until you recover.’

‘Yes, you are right — as usual,’ Sir Michael seemed to be satisfied with this solution. ‘And when I feel better, I shall be pleased to greet everyone in Dunder Hall. And…’

He turned to Lady Levinson.

‘May I engage you for the first two dances?’ 

‘Perhaps,’ she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. 

‘Capital!’ Sir Michael said with a grin. ‘And now I would like to play whist. Pamela, say a word to set the table. Lady Levinson, Mr. Howard, would you join me?’ 

Pamela rang a bell and watched as valets prepared the card table. Lady Levinson insisted that the fourth player would be Miss Flax; Mr. Howard agreed with it and easily persuaded Mrs. Howard that she did not want to play cards. He was in a cheerful mood, and when the preparation had been done, he said to Pamela.

‘I am truly grateful to you for all you have done. I knew I could count on you.’ 

Pamela did not quite understand why Mr. Howard had been so insistent, why he had appealed to the matter of family if all he had been in need of was a person to serve. But perhaps, she thought as she threw a gaze at Mr. Halpert and Miss Filippelli, she had no idea about the way the gentlemen were thinking. 

Pamela had an intention to join Mr. Flenderson; it seemed unfair that he was invited and treated with such coldness both by the master and the guests, who were supposed to be his friends. But Mrs. Howard had another plan. As soon as her husband settled at the card table, she asked Pamela to sit near her and started a long conversation — or, rather, a monologue, dedicated to balls and assemblies she had visited and would have liked to visit; she repeated her intention to do something for Pamela and recalled names of this or that gentleman who, in her opinion, would be a perfect match for her. In vain, Pamela tried to remind her that she could not follow them to London and had no intention to find a husband; Mrs. Howard just repeated that Pamela would change her mind as soon as she arrived in the City and met with a better society. Pamela’s headache became stronger, and she caught the glances of Mr. Halpert every time Mrs. Howard said one or another gentleman’s name; any enjoyment she might have had at this party ceased. 

‘Miss Beesly, I decided to give a chance to this spinet,’ Miss Filippelli said to Pamela, interrupting the speech of her cousin. ‘Perhaps, you could find me some notes to play?’ 

‘I think, there were some in the library,’ she said, rising; Pamela could send someone to find notes, but she wanted to use an excuse to leave this room even for a moment.

‘Ah! The famous library you have been talking so much about,’ she looked at Mr. Halpert with a sly smile. ‘I have nothing to worry about then; if all I have heard is true, I could probably find a few miraculously rescued manuscripts from the Library of Alexandria.’ 

Pamela left for the library; even with the meticulously compiled catalogue, she spent more time than she expected to find the notes. The library room was lit only with a candle she brought with her; Pamela did not want to return into the brightly lit salon with the loud voices and indelicate questions. But she could only reassure herself that this evening eventually would come to an end. 

When she returned into the salon, she noticed with pity that Mr. Flanderson was not there. And since Miss Flax was still engaged in the game, Pamela was deprived of a chance to have a pleasant talk for the rest of the evening. She gave the notes to Miss Filippelli and immediately saw the quick flash of disappointment on her face. 

‘Thank you, Miss Beesly,’ she said, at last, flipping through the pages. ‘That is a pity I played all these concerts so many times I almost know them by heart.’ 

‘The last person who had used them was Lady Scott,’ said Pamela, feeling the urge to advocate the library. ‘I am sorry if these notes are obsolete a little.’ 

‘That is not your fault, I suppose,’ Miss Filippelli sighed. At the same time, Mr. Halpert took the music sheets and looked through them. 

‘Is it not the concert you had performed at the Christmas assembly in Wallace Lodge? In my recollection it was magnificent. Perhaps, I could persuade you to play it for the audience who are not familiar with your talents?’

‘Perhaps, you could,’ Miss Filippelli smiled and sat at the spinet; Mr. Halpert stood near, diligently turning pages for her. 

As the music started to sound, Pamela found herself listening to it with uncovered attention and sadness. The performance was excellent; Pamela had never heard such a skillful play, and even the poor state of the old spinet did not distort the melody. But it only accentuated the difference between exquisite Miss Filippelli and herself. And Mr. Halpert made quite clear what choice he had made. 

Pamela’s only relief was that Mrs. Howard decided to watch the card game; she sat near her husband, commenting on the game with an affectionate smile, and though he told her again and again that it was against the rules, she did not stop. Sir Michael looked at them with fondness. 

‘Ah, what could be more delightful than to witness the young love!’ he said and gained smiles both from Mr. and Mrs. Howard. 

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Mr. Howard. ‘I cannot imagine my existence without my dear Mrs. Howard. And I am horrified with only the thought that our connection might tarnish, that we might lose each other.’

‘Ah, my dear Mr. Howard, you can never lose me!’ exclaimed Mrs. Howard, leaning to his arm. 

‘I pray for it, my dear,’ Mr. Howard kissed her hand. ‘But life is so unpredictable; I might die the next day. And if this happens, promise me to keep the memory of our love and do not take another husband. I know I shall not take another woman as a wife, either. I believe the first connection is the true one, and I do not understand why people are so fond of the second connections. What good is it to get married if you lost your love?’

‘To save money on the warmers, I suppose,’ said Miss Flax. 

For a moment, the silence fell; even the music seemed to get quieter. And then Sir Michael started to laugh, soon, Mrs. Howard joined him, covering her mouth and giggling. Even Pamela cast her eyes down and bit her lip to prevent the smile. Only Miss Flax could interrupt such a bombastic speech with something that silly. Immediately, she felt compassion towards Miss Flax. Lady Levinson was not happy with her remark; Pamela suspected that only the reaction of Sir Michael prevented her from scolding Miss Flax right at the table. Perhaps, the lady would show her dissatisfaction later this evening, when they would be away from prying eyes. 

The conversation at the table continued; Pamela sat motionless at her place, too tired to do anything else. For a moment, she closed her eyes in an attempt to tame her headache. 

‘Miss Beesly.’ 

Pamela opened her eyes and looked up to see Mr. Halpert standing before her with a glass of wine in his hand. 

‘I suppose a little wine could help you to ease your headache,’ he said, and Pamela’s heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had noticed her distress and had not remained silent. Mr. Halpert threw a short gaze at the card table and said, lowering his voice, ‘And I persistently recommend you to take some rest. Sir Michael seems to be involved in the game, and he will not notice your absence.’ 

‘Thank you, Mr. Halpert,’ she said, not knowing what else to say. ‘But I cannot. My service might be required…’

‘You can, and you will,’ he almost forced her to take the glass. ‘And now go. I assure you, we can manage without your assistance.’

‘As you wish,’ Pamela said, squeezing the glass tightly with both hands. Mr. Halpert nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to go; his face was unreadable. As soon as Pamela closed the door behind her, she heard the laugh of Miss Filippelli. 

Perhaps, she was sent away to avoid even more awkwardness. But even his harsh words did not obscure his unexpected kindness. And though Pamela did not allow her hopes to resurrect from the aches, she knew now that Mr. Halpert had not changed enough to watch her suffering and find pleasure in it. 

Chapter End Notes:

This is the longest chapter (so far). 

And I think things start to speed up...  


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