“Oh no, I’m only wondering where everyone has gotten off to,” she answered pleasantly. “There seems to be no one about.”
“I will inquire if you wish, though I know that His Lordship left rather early this morning,” the old woman said. “I don’t think he has returned, but I cannot be certain. Lady Elsie was still in her room the last time I looked in on her.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blankenship. I’ll go see her myself.” Lydia nodded to the housekeeper and went back upstairs, turning down the hallway that led to their bedchambers. She knocked lightly on the door but there was no answer.
Opening the door only a sliver and peering in, Lydia smiled at her sister’s sleeping form. Her arms were curled protectively around a doll she had been given as a young girl, and if she didn’t know better, Lydia might think the child’s thumb had only recently fallen out of her mouth.
“Such an angel,” Lydia whispered, a pang of sadness plucking at her heart.
How had this girl already lost so much in her young life, and still stood to lose more? What would it do to someone so fragile to have her sister leave her as well?
Lydia closed the door softly when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. The butler, Mr. Green, made his way towards her and bowed before holding out a small silver tray with a card resting on top.
“My Lady, you have a visitor,” he said formally.
Lydia hesitated. Surely Matthew had not already received her reply and made his way to Bronson Manor. She did not reach for the card, prompting Mr. Green to add, “It is Lady Penelope Martin.”
Lydia sighed with relief, taking the card and tucking it in her pocket. “Thank you, Green. I’ll be there straight away, no need to inform her that I’m coming.”
He bowed again and returned to his duties, and Lydia hurried down the stairs. She stopped partway down, suddenly fearful of Penelope’s reason for coming to call at such an hour as ten in the morning. Surely she had heard the gossip from Lord Verdurn’s ball and had come out to admonish her. Lydia’s shoulders sagged unhappily and she made her way to the drawing room.
“Penelope, how good of you to come!” Lydia said brightly as she entered the drawing room.
“Don’t you dare ‘Penelope’ me!” the young lady said, her red hair framing an almost equally red face. “How is it that I have to learn of your engagement from some biddy tongue-wagger who came to call on Mother this morning? I am supposed to be your dearest friend, and yet I am left dumbfounded when Lady Farrington brings this news to my door?”
“Penelope, I am so sorry. I had wanted to tell you straight away, but then everything was so wrong and so shameful, and I simply went home without seeking out anyone to bid them goodbye.” Lydia smiled weakly. “Please say you forgive me.”
“Of course I do, you goose,” Penelope said, smiling a little. “I’m only pretending to be hurt because it was a good excuse to come here. Now sit with me and tell me everything about this Viscount!”
“The Viscount? What do you mean?” Lydia asked, confused.
“Yes, Lady Farrington said the Viscount of Lockwood had asked your uncle for permission to court you and to make an offer of marriage,” Penelope replied, clapping her hands softly in her excitement. “It may still only be your courtship, but there’s already talk of marriage and that is as good as betrothed in my opinion.”
Lydia’s face fell. “Oh dear, you don’t know the rest of it? Tell me, when did you leave Lord Verdurn’s?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sometime after the supper, so one of the clock, I think it was? I had attended a dinner only the night before and two late evenings in a row was my undoing.” Penelope stopped, noting Lydia’s pained expression. “Why, what is the matter? Did something happen after I left?”
“Lady Farrington must have left rather early as well,” Lydia mumbled, looking down shamefully. “Penelope, something terrible has happened, and if you cannot bring yourself to remain my dear friend after you learn the truth, I will hold no ill will against you. You cannot risk your own reputation by associating with me, especially if others will be making haste to spread the word of my terrible degradation.”
“Lydia, you’re frightening me,” Penelope whispered, inching closer and putting her hand on Lydia’s. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I vow that I will ever be your faithful friend and I will not speak a word of it to anyone.”
With a grateful smile, Lydia took a deep breath and released it, then began her ill-fated tale. Penelope, to her credit, only listened without comment, though her expression changed from elation to horror and back again all throughout.
“But my dear, I fail to see the problem. If you are amenable to the notion of marrying this Earl of Paxton, then where is the cause for shame or rebuke?” Penelope asked.
“But I do not wish to marry him!” Lydia cried. “I had thought to marry Vincent… I mean, the Viscount of Lockwood, and had already given my word. He was to come here today to discuss the contract with my uncle, but after what I did, he flatly refused.”
“It sounds as though you have narrowly escaped being shackled to a hateful man, then,” Penelope said firmly, taking Lydia’s hand again. “Any man who would think of your ‘ruin’ rather than the fact that you had just plunged down an embankment and nearly died is no man worth marrying. He should have been thanking the Earl rather than dismissing you, and in front of all those people no less!”
Lydia paused in her grief to weigh Penelope’s words. It was true that the Viscount had not even taken the time to inquire after her condition nor ensure she had suffered no injury. He had immediately shown his wounded pride rather than his caring heart.
“I suppose that is true,” Lydia admitted slowly, “and your counsel does give me some relief, at least. But it does not erase the pledge I have made to the Earl, and through no fault of my own. That was entirely his doing, and I truly do not wish to marry him.”
“But you were such close friends as children,” Penelope reminded her. “Do you not believe you could come to be fond of one another someday? Perhaps even sooner rather than later?”
“I know not, only that he simply ceased all contact with me years ago. He has never said if it was some slight on my part that caused him pain,” Lydia answered. “I should hate the thought of marrying a man who has carried a deep hurt all these years, one that I myself inflicted. Then, upon his return, he has spoken so harshly to me. Between his demeanor and his actions of last evening, I would be glad to never see his face again!”
At that moment, the butler arrived with Matthew in tow. They bowed to the ladies, and Mr. Green said, “My Lady, the Earl of Paxton is here to see you.”
