“I suppose that would be very helpful, thank you,” Lydia replied. “They are worse for the wear, I’m afraid.”
“Not at all, My Lady. I’ll have them looking as fresh as the day they were made for you,” Mary promised. “Speaking of which, should you wish to have any new gowns made, I can send for the dressmaker. Perhaps the milliner might come to call as well?”
Lydia looked embarrassed. “I don’t know. It feels strange to order any goods until I have approval from Lord Paxton. And I do not know the state of my own funds as I have not yet spoken to my uncle.”
Mary looked sympathetic. A conversation such as this one would have been unthinkable to Lydia only not so long ago. After all, one did not discuss money or dire financial straits even with one’s peers, let alone with one’s servants. But with no one else to confide in, she found herself at a loss.
“Very good, My Lady. But if you change your mind, I’ll be happy to send for them,” Mary said kindly. She paused a moment and thought, then added, “Perhaps if you did need just a few garments to see you through, the maids and I can scrounge up some fabrics and notions. We sew our own gowns, you know. It would be no trouble to make you a few serviceable pieces should you have need of them.”
“Oh Mary, that is so kind of you!” Lydia cried. “I hate to refuse such a generous offer, and I promise you I will keep it in mind. But let’s both hope that I don’t have to trouble you. Perhaps Lord Paxton will return soon and we can clear this up.”
Mary smiled at Lydia’s obvious gratitude and curtseyed before leaving with her arms loaded down with delicate gowns to be laundered. Lydia returned to her needlepoint, nearly scoffing at the frivolity of it.
Here I am without a stitch of clothing other than what I ran away with, yet I sit sewing uselessly at a floral border on a pillow covering, she thought, frowning at the delicate pink roses wrought by her needle.
A knock at the door caused Lydia to put aside her sewing and look up. Williams stood in the doorway with a small tray. He bowed and held it forth for Lydia to take the card.
“My Lady, there is a Lady Penelope Martin here to see you,” Williams said formally.
“Thank you, Williams, please tell her I will be there at once!” Lydia cried in her excitement. She hurried to ensure she looked presentable, then stopped. What if Penelope was not pleased to see her after what she had done? What if her oldest friend had merely come here to chastise her, to remove her from her life once and for all?
That is a risk I must face, Lydia thought miserably, her heart sinking.At least I will know for certain how she feels.
Lydia walked stiffly down the stairs, keeping her hand to the bannister to steady herself. Her legs shook slightly as she came closer to the drawing room, and she had to take several breaths to keep from feeling faint.
“Penelope?” Lydia said softly to her friend’s turned back.
“Lydia!” Penelope cried, throwing herself at her friend and embracing her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
Lydia laughed and dabbed at the tears of relief that moistened her eyes. Penelope frowned, seeing the tears. Whispering in case anyone might overhear, Penelope demanded, “What’s the matter? What is it, what has he done?”
“Oh no, it is nothing like that!” Lydia said, laughing again. “You do not have to lower your voice, Ma—Lord Paxton is not here.”
“Not here? He’s gone out or something?” Penelope asked, looking at Lydia strangely.
“No, I mean to say—he did not return with me from Scotland,” Lydia said, lowering her voice to nearly a hair’s breadth on the last word. “He will come along at some point in the future, but he has business to attend to.”
“Oh.” Penelope replied, clearly thinking through the explanation. She shook her head and said, “Is that why you looked so sad just now?”
“Oh no, I was only… I was afraid you’d come to sever our friendship.” Lydia looked ashamed of both the thought and herself.
“Why would I do such a horrible thing?” Penelope cried, confused.
“Oh, because of the scandal of it all. I worried that you or your mother would wish to have nothing to do with me in an effort to protect your own reputation,” Lydia explained in a rush, leading Penelope to the sofa where they sat down together.
“Lydia, I won’t lie. Mother is rather disgusted by the whole thing,” Penelope admitted sadly. “But her opinion is not mine nor does it matter to me. I know who you truly are, and there are a great many others who do as well.”
“I’m afraid that will matter not to rather influential members of the ton,” Lydia replied, her hands shaking again. She attempted to look cheerful as she said, “I think I shall find myself living out my days as a recluse!”
“No, that will not be necessary,” Penelope replied, taking her hand reassuringly. “You’ll see. It may take some time, but eventually, no one will think on this anymore. I know we are raised to think that our reputations are the only thing we have in this world, but if you knew half the gossip I know about most of the ton, you wouldn’t worry another minute!”
Lydia opened her eyes wider in surprise, then laughed again. “It is good to see you, Penelope. Just knowing that I have a friend in this world has been all the remedy I required.”
“Let us go out,” Penelope said brightly, sitting up taller and clapping her hands. “We’ll pack a hamper and spend the day outdoors, away from the gloominess here. It will lift your spirits greatly, I promise.”
“It sounds like a wonderful idea,” Lydia agreed heartily. “Let me speak to Cook about what we might have on hand to bring along.”
Soon enough, Lydia and Penelope set out in a phaeton to explore the grounds around Paxton Hall. The sun overhead warmed them pleasantly, lifting Lydia’s spirits as Penelope had promised. A winding path took them through a grove of willows on either side, their long branches creating a towering wall on either side that Lydia envisioned would shield her from everything that was wrong at the moment. The brook that ran alongside the path churned happily as they rode, reminding her of happier childhood days spent playing along its banks.
