“Will and I will go get rooms at the village inn in a short while,” James said. “We cannot stay here with just the one bedchamber. But early tomorrow we will be on our way back home with you, and you can shake the dust of Fairfield off your shoes forever, Lydie.”
“We will look after you,” her father said. “And if any gossip should follow you home, well, we will know how to deal with it. You will not have to worry about a thing.”
It was hard to get a word in edgewise, but Lydia did eventually after drying her eyes and blowing her nose and smiling fondly from one to the other of them. “But I am not leaving here,” she said. “I—”
“Now, Lydie,” James said.
And they were off again, and all she had to do for the rest of her life, Lydia understood, was relax into their love and strength and protection. They were precious indeed. She was almost overflowing with love for them. And for a while there was no point in arguing. She had no wish to argue. She had not fully realized until she had seen whose carriage was drawn up outside her gate how very much she wanted to see them all. She went into the kitchen, filled the kettle, and put it on to boil.
“Now, Lydie,” James said, coming to stand in the archway. “This is not right, you being in the kitchen making the tea yourself. But today will be the last day. From tomorrow on you will be properly looked after. We will see to it.”
“How is Esther?” she asked, and he beamed as he told her how his wife was remaining so sweet and cheerful even though he was insisting that she spend most of her days on the chaise in her room or the long couch in the drawing room, with her feet up.
“Though I have insisted that while I am away she remain in her room,” he said. “Until I return to carry her down to the drawing room, that is.”
Lydia smiled and took the leftover scones and cake out of the pantry. Her mind was beginning to race. She and Harry had agreed to keep their betrothal and wedding plans strictly secret from everyone except the vicar and the two witnesses. Their reason had been that it would not seem fair to involve his family when her own was far away. Now suddenly most of her family was here. Only Esther and Anthony were missing. But she could not say anything. Not without consulting Harry first.
James and William would not stay for a cup of tea even though they must be hungry and thirsty after their journey. They insisted upon going without delay to reserve rooms and find stabling for the horses.
So Lydia settled down to a visit with her father while her mind kept on churning over what she could say. It was unlikely Harry would come until much later, and it was important to her that any decision to be made be made together.
She had less time to wait than she had expected. Within an hour after her brothers left, there was a knock upon her door and she opened it to discover on her doorstep two scowling brothers, a smiling, bonnetless, gloveless Marchioness of Dorchester, and a hatless Harry with a bright red chin and an upper lip that looked considerably fatter than it normally did.
What—?
“Lydie, you are not to worry—”
“We will have you away from here, Lydie—”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Tavernor.”
“Hello, Lydia.”
They all spoke at the same time.
“What inthunder?” Her father had come up behind her. “Isthisthe villain? Get him away from here. He is not coming inside this house. I forbid it. Lydie has her father to look after her now.”
“Papa,” Lydia said, “this ismyhouse. Please come in, all of you. Lady Dorchester, this is my father. The Marchioness of Dorchester, Papa. Major Westcott’s mother.”
What onearthhad happened? But it was a rhetorical question. Clearly the need to go to the inn in such a hurry to reserve rooms had been merely an excuse on her brothers’ part to go and confront Harry.
“How do you do, Mr. Winterbourne?” the marchioness said. “How reassuring it must be for Mrs. Tavernor to have relatives who care so much for her that they have come a long distance in support of her. You will be returning home with your father, Mrs. Tavernor?”
“I willnot,” Lydia said. “Oh, this cottage was not built for so many peoplelooming.Will you all pleasesit down?”
Amazingly they all did except for Harry, who stood just inside her living room, his hands clasped at his back.
“And I suppose,” Lydia continued, “one of you—James, at a guess—felt that you must defend my honor by finding Harry andhittinghim. I suppose Lady Hill in her letter to Papa mentioned the fact that hekissedme when he conveyed me home from a village assembly in his carriage. Perhaps she even mentioned that he kissed meon the forehead. And thus, of course, he became the grand villain of the piece and you must all rush here to haul me home and punish the man who kissed my brow. I see no marks on either James or William. Was Harry too sensible to fight back? And did either of you eventhinkof consulting me first? Of asking me exactly what happened? Of discoveringfrom meif Harry did anything that was remotely either disrespectful or villainous? Has either of you even noticed during the past twenty-eight years that I have avoice? Has either of you even considered the possibility that perhaps I have amind?”
“Now, Lydie—” her father began.
“Andyou, Papa,” she said, turning her glare on him. “Were you a party to this? Did you know that the first thing James and William intended to do after they arrived here was to go and mete out punishment without even asking me for my side of the story and my feelings and preferences? No, do not answer.Of courseyou knew. And you should be ashamed of yourself. All three of you should. You came here totake me home.Can’t you understand Iamhome? This is where I belong and where I choose to stay. I love you all very dearly, but I want to hear your apology to Harry.”
Oh dear. Where had all that come from?
“Lydia.” Harry’s hands had come to her shoulders from behind. “Perhaps we should tell your father and brothers? And my mother too?”
“You are not worthy to shine Lydie’s shoes,” her father said. “I do not like to see your hands on her. Or to hear you make free with her name.”
