“You expect that they employ lady’s maids for the rare moment that a young woman is traveling without her servants? Pray, how many eloping couples do you suspect they house each year?”
As Matthew only looked dumbfounded, Lydia shook her head and climbed into her seat, arranging the folds of her gown as best she could. If it was already noticeable after only a day and a night’s wear, she would be in a real predicament come their arrival in Gretna Green.
The second night away from London had all of the unfortunate ingredients of turning into a reflection the previous evening. This time, with the road so long both before them and behind, their room was not quite so fine as the one at the inn. This establishment, though still orderly looking and reasonably clean, was atop a tavern, much to Lydia’s dismay.
“Where shall you sleep this time?” Lydia ventured to ask, hoping Matthew had not grown weary of their journey… and of her.
“There’s a tavern below, I think I shall have my fill of drink and see where the night leads me,” Matthew said curtly before nodding at the door. “Good night.”
Lydia’s tormented sadness from the previous evening had given way to a burning anger sometime during the long, punishing day. Now she fumed, walking the length of the very small room with a purposeful sense of rage, delighting in the stomping of her low heels against the floor.
He’d best not show his face in this room as a result of whatever state he puts himself in!Lydia thought angrily, looking about for something heavy with which to bar the door. She dragged the heavy bed frame itself, its straw ticking nearly sliding to the floor as she inched it along.
“There,” Lydia said aloud, rubbing her hands together from where the effort had stung.He won’t be coming into this room, that’s for certain.
Lydia once again made ready for bed, only this time she took care to remove what parts of her gown she could manage on her own. She unpinned her hair as well and bound it up with cloth which she covered with her sleeping cap, fetched from her satchel. She took care to remove her stockings and fold them delicately, wishing to at least wring them out and let them dry during the night. She dared not waste any of the scant wash water in the pitcher, though, else she would have given them a thorough soaking.
Rather than falling to her bed in tears as she had the previous evening, Lydia climbed into bed gratefully, though feeling out of sorts with the door so near to her. She pondered on the day for a few moments before she drifted off, determined to keep a good thought in her mind.
Boom!
“What in the world—” Lydia cried out, awakened from a deep sleep by the door slamming into the bed frame alongside her. “Who’s there?”
The sound of muffled laughter—a hearty man’s laugh followed by a woman’s high-pitched twitter—brought Lydia to her senses and sent her anger soaring. Rather than cower in the presence of two strangers attempting to enter her room, she stood up from the bed and jerked it away from the door with as much force as she could muster.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lydia shouted, then stopped short. Matthew and a strange woman stood looking back at her, silly grins that belied their state of mild inebriation on their faces.
“Lady Lydia!” Matthew said, listing only slightly to one side. “I’ve brought someone to you. This is… I think she said her name is… was it Mary?”
“Matilda,” the woman answered, attempting to curtsey but falling completely to the floor amidst another fit of laughter. Lydia looked down at her wide-eyed, too surprised to even speak.
Slowly, Lydia turned her gaze serenely to Matthew and stared him down, waiting silently for him to offer some sort of an explanation. His cheerful expression, brought on by quite a few drinks, she supposed, slowly faded until he looked almost somber.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lydia asked as Matthew looked at her and Matilda struggled to roll herself to her feet.
“I thought… that is to say, I mean…” he stammered briefly, aware now how ill-mannered whatever plan he’d conceived of must be, but he gave up. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he thought of something to say.
“Good night, My Lord,” Lydia said quietly before closing the door and pushing the bed firmly against it once again.
She crawled back under the thin blanket and attempted to sleep again. She would have failed had it not been for the desperate weariness she felt from the two days’ journey and her own broken heart.
By the following morning, Lydia tended to her toilet and dressed in what articles of clothing she’d removed, then pinned up her hair as best she could. The small looking glass above the water pitcher was cracked and rather tarnished, but still, she hoped she looked presentable enough.
After removing the bed from in front of the door, Lydia stepped out of her room and nearly fell. Righting herself and then turning to look on the object that caused her mishap, Lydia fumed angrily.
“What are you doing?” Lydia demanded, looking up and down the narrow hall to be sure no one could see Matthew lying in front of the door.
“I was sleeping,” he muttered, turning over and revealing a large red slash across his cheek where he’d spent hours with his face pressed against the sleeve of his coat. “The only way I could remain downstairs was if I continued to drink, and we both saw how well that worked out for me.”
“Yes, I had not taken you for an incurable drunk,” Lydia said primly. “That is clearly a character flaw you have picked up somewhere throughout your travels.”
“I’ll have you know,” Matthew said, grunting as he rolled up to stand, “I never drink. Not even at celebrations. But it was a tavern, and in order to remain at a table for the better part of the evening, and in my haste to not remain in there,” he said, pointing to the door behind him, “I had to purchase some rather disgusting ale.”
“You were not required to consume it,” Lydia answered, sniffling in disgust. “And yet, you got yourself into a terrible state and then decided to come to my room with another woman. I cannot thank you enough for the humiliation of it.”
“It is not what you think,” Matthew said, sounding somewhat apologetic.
“I can tell you precisely how it appeared, though,” Lydia shot back, her cheeks burning at the memory of the woman traipsing about in the hallway with Matthew before falling down.
