It had been a hard lesson to learn, that women were very flighty creatures who could change their desires and upend their promises just as easily as one might change one’s stockings. Still, it was far better to learn such things now, or at least before Matthew found himself ensnared in a trap set by a fortune huntress.
“Tell the others to make ready. In the meantime, if you could see to the manifest documents, I have an important engagement I must see to,” Matthew explained, his tone more serious now.
Disembarking, Matthew marveled briefly at how London had changed in only the few years he’d been away. In truth, it had not been his intention to head for the Walsh offices and never look back, but it had been the better option. His only other choice had been to return home after finishing at Eton and allow his parents to very nearly smother him. When talk had turned to his taking a place in the company, Matthew had been the one to propose the expansion.
“Only so long as there are others to assist you,” his father had said, agreeing with certain conditions. “You are an accomplished young man but you are still unaware in the ways of business. If you will agree to take guidance from those I select to help steer the course, then I support your venture.”
Only now, his father was gone. Matthew was the fourth generation to oversee the shipping company, but that seemed almost secondary somehow to his role as the Earl of Paxton. He strode past the harbor offices bearing his family’s name, choosing to avoid paying a visit to his father’s longtime clerks for the time being. There was somewhere he had to go first, an important errand that could not wait any longer.
* * *
“All ready, my dear?” the Earl of Bronson asked as Lydia strode carefully down the stairs, fearful of stepping on the hem of her silk gown or its sheer fairy wing overskirt.
“I should think so, though I must look in on Elsie before I go,” Lydia replied. “She should be at her music lesson at the moment, it won’t take long.”
“Do hurry, if you insist upon your usual errand along the way,” her uncle called out, an air of irritation in his instruction.
“It won’t take long, Uncle. But I must tell her goodnight before we go.” Lydia bobbed slightly in curtsey then hurried down the long hallway to the music room where she found her sister seated uncomfortably at the pianoforte.
“No, that is all wrong. You must start again from the beginning!” the governess ordered sharply. Elsie looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry to intrude here, Miss Graves,” Lydia said to the middle-aged woman seated in a chair beside the instrument. “I’m certain Elsie’s playing is coming along wonderfully though.”
There was a tense exchange of glares between Lydia and the governess, who’d been unaware anyone would be nearby to hear her chastise her young student. In the end, it was Lydia’s resolve and station that won out.
“Of course, My Lady. She shows improvement each day,” Miss Graves replied. “However, she is not progressing quite as quickly as she might. I think the issue might be with her lack of care for it.”
“I think the issue might also be with the style of reprimand you’re employing,” Lydia replied, unwilling to back down where her young sister was concerned.
Elsie smiled up at Lydia, grateful for an ally in the battle against boring lessons. Her smile faded as she remembered what prompted Lydia’s entrance into the room.
“Do you really have to leave now?” Elsie asked, reaching up and taking Lydia’s hand.
“I do. But I shall be here when you wake for breakfast,” Lydia answered, smoothing back Elsie’s hair gently. “We shall eat toast and fruit and I shall tell you all about the party.”
Satisfied that she had something more enjoyable to look forward to, Elsie turned back to the pianoforte and asked, “Would you like to hear my song?”
“I most certainly would!” Lydia replied. “But only once, I must leave with Uncle very soon. So try your best to do it with perfection for me.”
Elsie banged out the familiar melody in such a way that Lydia struggled to make out the tune, but that did not stop her from nodding her head in time to the music and looking to Miss Graves for some word of encouragement. When the music mercifully stopped, Lydia applauded proudly.
“That was excellent, my dear sister,” she said, beaming as she leaned forward to kiss Elsie on the cheek. “And with only a little more practice, I should think you’ll be ready to try something even more difficult. Don’t you think so, Miss Graves?”
“Certainly so,” the governess answered before pressing her lips together in a pinched, thin line.
“Goodnight, sweet Elsie,” Lydia said, standing up to go but bending forward to whisper, “Remember to stay in your bed tonight, even if you hear someone calling to you.”
Downstairs once more, Lydia found her uncle walking the length of the foyer, his hat already in his hand. The footman stood by the door, awaiting her arrival to open it and lead the way to the carriage.
“My apologies, Uncle Julius,” Lydia said politely. “Elsie needed a moment’s consolation at not being allowed to attend, and then insisted on playing her song for me.”
“You coddle that child, Lydia,” her uncle said in a near growl. “I’m not accustomed to my household or my schedule being held up due to the whims of a mere child.”
Your household?Lydia thought with a small measure of disgust.Had it not been for my dear father’s death, this would not be your household!
“She has had a very difficult time of things, and is only now beginning to think of your position here as permanent,” Lydia reminded him. “I am still trying to forge the bridge between the two of you. All she knows is you’re the strange man who is insistent upon taking me away from her, the only family she has left in the world.”
Uncle Julius cleared his throat, feeling the sting of Lydia’s words. “I see. Well, yes, your departure from Bronson Manor is hopefully imminent, as it means that your father’s own will has been fulfilled. Remember that I am not the enemy here, Lydia. It was your father who deemed that you must marry before the end of your twentieth year.”
