A week or two after every gathering in Dunder-Mifflin was usually passed in nonchalant gossiping - everyone had been discussing attires and refreshments, the dancing partners, and who had had the misfortune to catch the attention of Sir Michael’s wittiness that time. This year, though, the commoners of Dunder-Mifflin had an opportunity to amuse themselves more appealing, scandalous rumor. 

The next day after the ball, Mrs. Palmer had been carting past moorlands and had noticed two figures in the distance, a male silhouette in inappropriate proximity to a female. The innkeeper had had a few glasses of gin before her cart and a couple after, but she swore to Lord as she was retelling her observation to the inn servants that she had seen it indeed. And even though not all of them had believed her, they shared this news with their neighbors nevertheless. The public opinion proclaimed that the man from the moors must have been Mr. Halpert - who else could it have been? And the most emotive question was who had been his companion. 

That rumor had reached the Dunder Hall by the morning of the following day, as Madge, a maid, had a sister who served at ‘The Chivalrous Lion.’ And as Mrs. Vance had heard it, she made a quick inference.

‘Have you enjoyed your walking, Miss Beesly?’ she asked Pamela as they conversed in the kitchen after breakfast. 

‘I have,’ Pamela answered, slightly surprised with Mrs. Vance’s interest to her daily constitutional. ‘It was quite refreshing.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt it was,’ Mrs. Vance gave Pamela a meaningful smile. ‘But, as a friend of yours, I should warn you to keep discreteness. You have been seen by Mrs. Palmer, and very soon, every living soul in Dunder-Mifflin will know. If not already.’

‘I suppose I am allowed to have my constitutionals as much as they do not affect my duties,’ Pamela answered cautiously. ‘Why should I hide my deeds or be ashamed of them?’ 

‘I admire your courage,’ said Mrs. Vance, ‘though I advise you not to flaunt with your connection with Mr. Halpert so openly. Especially in your position.’ 

Pamela was astounded with Mrs. Vance’s assumption, her face blushed. 

‘Good Lord, Mrs. Vance! What are you talking about?’ she said at last. ‘There is no connection! Assuredly, we spend some time in the same place, but that is all. Besides, I am engaged. I would never…’ 

‘I know that, dear, I know,’ Mrs. Vance patted Pamela’s hand. ‘And yet, there is a certain type of gentlemen that could make a woman forget about her vows. I hope you will forgive me for my friendly reminder. I wish you nothing but good.’

She left Pamela at a loss, but the appearance of Madge did not let that condition to last for too long. Pamela heard about Mrs. Palmer’s observation, and though her facial expression remained calm, she felt as consternation rose into her heart. She excused herself from the conversation and busied herself with the usual routine, but her thoughts were wandering. 

She knew that rumor could not be true, at least the part about herself. She had never met with Mr. Halpert at the moorlands - except their first meeting when she had not even known his name. And before Mrs. Vance had told her about her suspicions, Pamela had never thought her companionship with Mr. Halpert might have been seen as improper. The easiness of his manners did not allow her to keep her demeanor cold and prudential as it might have been considered proper. Besides, Mr. Halpert showed the same amiability to everyone he spoke to, including even notorious Mr. Schrute. And then Pamela remembered how radiated Miss Moore had looked beside him. Had she displayed herself the same countenance as Miss Moore had? Perhaps, it might have given the observers the wrong impression.

Her thoughts wandered further. Was it possible that Mr. Halpert had intentions towards Miss Moore? For sure, she was the most beautiful girl in the whole village, with shining blue eyes, smooth red locks, vivacious manners, and a pretty smile. But her father was the smith - and gentlemen did not marry the smith’s daughters, as well as they did not marry the daughters of the farmers. Pamela was aware what kind of connection a man from the high society might  have with a low-born woman. She might even dare to consider Miss Moore as a girl who was simple enough to be involved in a love affair, but she could not think of Mr. Halpert as a man who might do anything disgraceful to an innocent girl. Her mind, her heart, and her soul refused to connect his name with the mysterious man from the moorlands. 

For sure, it must have been someone else. Pamela mused over that thought, though she could not think about anyone who might have met with such secrecy; Dunder-Mifflin definitely suffered from a lack of separated lovers and reckless admirers. Most likely, Mrs. Palmer had seen no one or had taken some snags for human silhouettes. 

And yet, that ridiculous rumor caused her quite a distress; it felt like a pebble in a shoe, and Pamela prayed it would not bring more sorrows. The least she could do was an attempt to cut the spreading of that rumor, and that meant she should keep a proper distance from Mr. Halpert. That did not stay unnoticed. 

‘Miss Beesly, you are so quiet today. Are you feeling well?’ Mr. Halpert asked when they spent almost the whole morning in the same room and barely exchanged a few phrases. Pamela heard a genuine concern in his tone and felt a stab of guilt for her ungrounded suspicions. 

‘Oh, yes, I am feeling well, thank you. I just… there are those rumors that distress me a little. That is all.’ 

‘Rumors? Heavens, do they still exist? I was sure the humankind had already invented better ways to entertain itself.’ 

Pamela could say he tried to cheer her up; she always found his joviality and absence of gravity quite endearing. But now Pamela would prefer for him to be serious, just a little. Apparently, he had not heard any gossip about himself; otherwise, he would not jest about such an accusation. How to tell him about that delicately?

‘Perhaps, rumors are not noteworthy in London or other big cities,’ Pamela said carefully. ‘But in small villages and small communities like ours, they are still significant and could affect many lives.’ 

‘You mean to say - people allow hollow rumors to affect their lives!’ Mr. Halpert said with unexpected fervency. ‘I believe in deeds, not words. If someone’s opinion could be shattered with something so frothy, it was not important in the first place then. To be honest, I am a little surprised. I did not consider you as a person who listens to any kind of gossiping.’ 

The last part he added quietly, and Pamela felt an urge to defend herself.

‘I am sorry if I disappointed you, even a little,’ she said. And yet, I have to remind you about the difference between us. I truly believe you are able to do the most excellent deeds to prove yourself. You have a privilege to disregard the words, but for women, it is quite impracticable to act that way. Our lives are ruled by norms of society; we depend on it. And I, as well as every other woman in the kingdom, should maintain a particular reputation, and you probably aware of its fragility. One thoughtless deed or just one low word, and nothing can save a woman from public reprobation. She could not find herself a proper place to live; her family would suffer her disgrace with her or repudiate any connection with her. And all this misery might be caused by just one rumor. I wish I could allow myself to disdain gossiping, but I cannot.’ 

Mr. Halpert was silent for a while. 

‘I understand your feelings and your concerns, Miss Beesly. And yet… If you had to make a choice between a blameless reputation and your own happiness, what would you choose?’

Pamela looked down at the illustration she was making to avoid Mr. Halpert’s gaze. 

‘I wish I would not have to make such a decision,’ she said at last, and both of them were aware of her answer unsaid. The rest of the day went into disquieting silence. 

Meanwhile, Sir Michael, oblivious to any rumors as well as to disturbance they caused to his housekeeper, prepared to visit his attorney in York. He insisted that he needed the company of Mr. Halpert, and he did not find an excuse to decline an offer made in such a peremptory manner. They went early in the morning, and as Sir Michael had said his farewell to Pamela verbose yet cordially, Mr. Halpert had barely acknowledged her with a curt nod. 

They had been absent for ten days, and these days had given Pamela a glimpse of the nearest future when Mr. Halpert would return to Oxford. Pamela had known it, and she should have paid more attention to her everyday doings, but in truth, her days had been going in a haze, in a sentiment dangerously similar to yearning. Her mind told her not to build castles in the sky, but her heart counted days before his return. 

The days without gentlemen in the mansion had seemed to be twice as long. The servants had taken absence of the master as a reason to loaf. Pamela herself had paid a little attention to the mansion’s routine, spending most of the time in the library and purposely avoiding the kitchen. But Mrs. Vance, dropping her innuendo once, had not returned to that matter; her attention had been caught with vivid, more recent news that a regiment of Colonel C. might have stayed for the winter in Dunder-Mifflin. Pamela had been both relieved that this rumor had lived so short and ashamed. If she had predicted that, she would have never even mentioned it to Mr. Halpert and had avoided that unpleasant discussion. The only person, who had continued to bring up the rumor about the mysterious pair from the moorlands, was Mr. Anderson. He had spent quite a time at dinner at Beesly’s, telling again and again about Mrs. Palmer’s observation and accusing Mr. Halpert in all assumptive sins he might have had as well. Pamela had been genuinely grateful to Miss Martin when she had told him to stop disseminating rumors in such a blunt and sharp expressions that she did not expect from her discreet cousin. Mr. Anderson had just smirked at that and had turned his attention to the meals. And Pamela had thought with sudden concern she could not have said for sure if Mr. Anderson himself had been able to do something improper like a secret meeting or not.

The day before the expected returning Pamela spent in a hectic state. She could not allow Sir Michael to find the mansion unprepared to his return nor could not wholly focus on the errands she should have run. She was torn between anticipation and anxiety; Pamela wanted to see Mr. Halpert again, and at the same time, she worried he would still be disappointed with her and would keep his restrained facade. 

The gentlemen finally arrived. Pamela greeted them both kindly, Mr. Halpert met her with a genial smile. While Sir Michael went to his cabinet to take rest after such a journey, Mr. Halpert told Pamela with open enjoyment about all the little adventures he and Sir Michael had lived through, and he was rewarded with her laugh, a cup of tea and a retelling about the subject of the latest sermon of Mr. Schrute. 

Mr. Halpert said he expected to complete his assignment by May.

It would have been wise of Pamela to keep the distance, to prepare herself for an unavoidable loss of Mr. Halpert’s company. Still, instead, she spent even more time with him, cherishing every moment, every pleasantry, every smile. And when he praised her illustrations once more, Pamela felt herself bold enough to suggest to him to draw his portrait. Her cheeks blushed when he smiled warmly and agreed. 

And yet, despite all the happiness of these days, Pamela felt exhaustion and a bit of desperation. In the evenings, after she locked the doors and checked the windows, she sat quietly in the library, recalling the events and conversations of the previous day. She tried to imagine how it would be not to see Mr. Halpert again, not to talk to him; she could only pray silently that Sir Michael was fascinated with him enough to invite him once more, though she doubted that Mr. Halpert himself would accept that invitation. Once he left, he would disappear forever. And in the most unbearable moment, when she thought about it, she felt an urge to make something to postpone his departure. She should have ordered more books; perhaps she should even have ruined his catalogue in some way, though even thought of it seemed a sacrilege. 

The last week of Mr. Halpert’s presence had arrived. The library was almost arranged, the catalogue was done, except for the few illustrations. Almost everything had been prepared for his departure. It had been agreed that Mr. Halpert would leave on Sunday after the sermon; he told Pamela he would not miss the farewell speech from Mr. Schrute for all the money in the world. 

‘I suppose he will mention something about the impure spirit and the herd of pigs,’ he said to Pamela. She smiled in answer and thought that even Mr. Schrute’s sermons would be much duller without Mr. Halpert’s presence. 

On Friday, Sir Michael decided to play cards; Mr. Halpert and Mr. Schrute joined him. Pamela finished her daily deeds and ensconced herself in the library. She ran her finger over the pages of the catalogue, filled with his sprawling handwriting. A day and a half and these pages would be the only things she would have of him. 

Pamela startled when she heard a knock on the door, but it was just Mr. Halpert. She smiled and closed the catalogue. 

‘I thought I would find you here,’ he said. ‘I am sorry if I scared you. Do you want to join the game? I noticed your presence affected positively on Sir Michael’s mood. Poor fellow just lost three pounds and cannot stop complaining and grumbling.’

‘Perhaps, it is true. But I think it is low of me to take the stakes away, and you know I do not have a habit of succumbing.’

‘So, you chose the best possible place to spend your evening then,’ he laughed. Pamela smiled but felt a tightness in her chest. She would miss this silliness and mocking so much. 

Mr. Halpert went to the table, picked up the catalogue, and paged it mindlessly. 

‘When I received a letter asking me to arrange a library for a gentleman from Yorkshire, I did not expect to have such a pleasant time,’ he said mostly to the pages. ‘I shall remember these months as one of the most peaceful and happy moments of my life.’

‘I am glad. You will always be a welcome guest here, and I am not afraid to speak for Sir Michael. He estimates you highly and thinks of you as a friend,’ she paused and added quietly, ‘and so do I.’

‘A friend?’ he asked with an almost imperceptible change of tone. ‘I do not think so.’

Pamela closed her eyes, defeated. What had she been thinking about when she had suggested she could be a friend to him? 

‘I appreciate Sir Michael’s merits and hospitality,’ he continued, ‘but all this time I spent thinking of you and you alone.’ 

Pamela opened her eyes, not trusting her ears, and saw an expression on his face she had never seen before. 

‘You fascinated me. You enchanted me. You must have noticed that I had brought an excuse by an excuse to be near you. To be honest, I should feel guilty for the overindulgence of Sir Michael’s kindness, but I do not. That little discourtesy was worth it.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Pamela’s voice dropped to a whisper. Mr. Halpert stepped to her and took her hand. They had worn gloves when they had been dancing at the ball; now, Pamela felt the warmth of his palm against her cold fingers. 

‘I love you, Miss Beesly… Pamela. And I cannot leave without you. Allow me to care about you. Allow me to cherish and praise you the way you deserve it. Allow me to take you away from here and carry you to London or Gretna Green or any other place where you will be happy. Just say a word.’ 

Everything in his countenance spoke to his sincerity. And Pamela looked at him, unable to hide her own emotions. It would be so simple to accept; she felt as the word of the agreement formed on her tongue. But then a sudden thought shook her. What would her father feel when he discovered that his engaged daughter had broken her word and had eloped with another man? What shame would her family suffer for her decision? What ire would Mr. Anderson feel and from whom would he demand a satisfaction? And who would take Penelope or Miss Martin as wives if their kinswoman would make such a shameful deed?

‘I cannot,’ she said at last. The expression of his face changed from hopeful to crushed, and Pamela closed her eyes, unable to see his pain. 

‘No?’ he asked. 

She shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

‘I am sorry, I am so sorry,’ she said again and again. 

She felt as he freed one of his hands and gently wiped her tears away. 

‘It is not your fault,’ he said, taking a step away. Pamela squeezed his fingers in a desperate gesture, but his hand slipped from hers. She heard as the door opened and closed; he went away. 

She collapsed on the nearest chair, crying and having no notion about what to do next or what she should have done. She sat there until the candles burned down to the ground, and then she sat there in the darkness. 

Pamela decided to talk to him in the morning, to explain herself, to find a solution that would please both of them. But when she came to the dining room, she found there only Sir Michael, having his breakfast in solitude. 

‘It is a sad day, my dear,’ said Sir Michael. ‘We are left alone again. Mr. Halpert received an urgent note and left immediately after it. He has finished his assignment, hasn’t he? Even if he has not, I am sure you could accomplish it. Are you feeling well, my dear? You look so pale. I know, I know, you did not want to do it for the first time, but what can we do now? Such an affable young man… We should have invented some excuse to secure him for longer. Why did not you think about something, that could secure him for longer?’