“Goodnight, Lord Lockwood,” she replied automatically, dipping into a curtsey that he likely never observed as he had already turned to go.
Lydia stood alone on the marble courtyard, wondering what she should do next. She was now a young woman on her way to being betrothed by the following day; surely that should merit some observation of the occasion? But she could not think of the appropriate response.
Certainly, she felt different, as though anyone who looked upon her would see that she was now to be Vincent’s wife. Lydia’s whole world was now going to center on a brief courtship, a simple but meaningful wedding ceremony, and then taking her place as the wife of a Viscount.
“I might speak to Penelope,” Lydia mumbled tenderly, but then she thought better of it. “I should like for this to be my own revelation, but if I tell her too soon, a great many people will hear of it. Should something occur that undoes this commitment, it will be to my humiliation, too.”
Instead, Lydia walked alone through the gardens, enjoying the early summer air and observing the stars overhead. The pinpoints of scattered light reminded her of her parents, watching over her and Elsie now from on high. She smiled at the thought of their joy in this moment, knowing that they would be well pleased with the course her life was taking.
“Excuse me,” a man’s voice said as Lydia walked forward, stumbling into someone.
“I am so sorry, good sir,” Lydia said at once, instantly flooded with shame for her mistake. “Are you harmed?”
“Harmed? By a small creature such as yourself?” he asked with a laugh. “I don’t think so.”
The man stepped out of the shadows cast by the overhanging willow trees and froze. Lydia, too, stared with disappointment.
“Matthew. I did not see you there, I’m sorry,” Lydia said with finality, then she turned to go.
“Wait, don’t leave,” he said suddenly. Lydia stopped, though she did not turn to face him. “I… I was only…”
“What?” Lydia asked, a bit unnerved that he had spoken to her.
“I don’t know,” he finally finished, giving up. “I only thought to speak to you, but I do not know what to say.”
“You might consider beginning with an apology,” Lydia suggested sarcastically, “as your behavior in the cemetery today was uncalled for.”
“I know. You’re right, and I apologize,” Matthew said, bowing his head. “I am truly ashamed at my outburst and for the insult it caused you.”
“Oh,” Lydia replied, blinking her eyes in the darkness. “I was not expecting you to apologize so readily. The Matthew I once knew would have argued for the better part of an hour about why he was not the one to blame.”
“The Matthew you once knew is no more, I’m afraid,” he replied in a somber voice. “He’s been replaced by a hardened man, one who doesn’t see the world quite so happily as he once did.”
“That is very sad,” Lydia said, surprised by both her answer and the fact that she meant it. “What happened to ruin your joy, your sense of wonder at things?”
“There was no single moment or event. I think it was more year after year of tiny injustices, little insults, events that were beyond my comprehension or control,” Matthew replied with a shrug. His nonchalant tone belied the words he spoke. “Of course, living and working half a world away will do that to a man, too.”
“You might have come home once in a while,” Lydia said tenderly.
“There was no home to come back to,” Matthew protested, though there was no malice in his words, only resignation.
Lydia walked slowly towards the low wall and sat down, willing to give Matthew a chance to explain. He watched her for a moment, as though wondering if he had the strength to speak of it, then joined her.
* * *
“Tell me about your travels,” Lydia asked after they had spoken for quite a while. “I was heartsick when I learned that you were leaving for the Far East, but I must confess, I was also terribly jealous.”
“Jealous? Of a man entering a strange land to engage in the mundane world of the shipping business?” Matthew asked, scoffing.
Lydia nodded. “Of course! How many times did we play pirates on our makeshift ship, or play Captain Cook discovering New Zealand by climbing the hillside behind my father’s house? Our entire childhood was one pretend adventure after another. Only you actually got to live out your adventure while I stayed behind and worked at my needlepoint or studied French. Tell me, what purpose does it serve to learn a language if you will never use it, never travel?”
“At least you learned something partly useful,” Matthew reminded her. “My Latin and Greek tutors were terribly mistaken about the importance of those languages in my life.”
Lydia laughed, and Matthew watched her for a moment. Her easy smile reminded him of so many summer days they’d spent as children, playing together or riding their horses. When Matthew was old enough that such things as manners and behavior were only just beginning to matter, Lydia had been forced to be his constant dance partner, his ever-present companion at luncheons were his every movement and word were taught and corrected.
How I wasted those moments, those opportunities to dance with her, to dine with her, to simply sit and converse!Matthew thought as Lydia told a story about Elsie finding a caterpillar for the first time.
Still, the feeling of betrayal ran very deep, too intense to ignore. He shook off the thoughts of their happy memories when he remembered how alone he’d felt at school. He’d been tormented relentlessly by the other pupils and even by a few of the teachers. All he had to look forward to were Lydia’s letters, and for a time, they made his love for her grow even stronger.
