But that was behind her. Now, with the possibility of one day having Matthew’s love still enveloping her in a peaceful, joyful glow, Lydia was prepared to greet this new day as though it truly were the first day of her life as the Countess of Paxton.
“And nothing shall ruin it for me,” she swore to herself as she sat up and pulled on her dressing gown.
A knock at the door told her that Mary had snuck up to help her dress without Matthew’s mother knowing, so Lydia hurried to the door and opened it. She was greeted by a welcome sight, the familiar face of her lady’s maid from Bronson Manor.
“Abigail! How did you manage to come here?” Lydia cried, pulling the young woman into the room and closing the door. “I’ve missed you, it’s so good to see a familiar face!”
“Aye, and yours as well, My Lady,” Abigail said, curtseying as she smiled happily at Lydia. “I cannot stay, I’m afraid, but during the night Lord Paxton sent word to Bronson that you were in need of your things. I’ve packed up as many things as I could think of, gowns and garments and the like, as well as a few trinkets that I know were special to you.”
“This can’t be real,” Lydia said, her smile illuminating her face. “This is the most wonderful news! Thank you for your help, Abigail, it has done wonders for my happiness.”
“I’m glad to do it, My Lady,” Abigail assured her. “The footmen will be bringing up your trunks very soon, shall I help you dress before I go?”
“That would be wonderful as I have no lady’s maid here,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“No lady’s maid? I’ve never heard of such a thing! You a Countess and the mistress of the household?” Abigail retorted indignantly. “Begging your pardon, My Lady, that was not kind of me to say. But I just cannot imagine it!”
“It’s all right, Abigail, I appreciate your loyalty,” Lydia said, smiling so the maid knew she was not being impertinent. “But there has been a good deal of confusion since I left Bronson, and it will be resolved shortly.”
I hope, that is, Lydia thought after she’d spoken, but she was careful not to give that away.
“I should hope so. What is the mistress of a noble house without her lady’s maid? Who not only dresses you and styles your hair throughout the day, but launders your garments?” Abigail pressed insistently. “That cannot be left to a simple washerwoman.”
Lydia did not reply, and Abigail quickly recovered from her shock to repeat her offer to help her. Lydia frowned, remembering her situation. She certainly did not want her lady’s maid returning to Bronson after dressing her in the maid’s uniform.
“I would greatly appreciate the help, but I’ve just remembered that I have no gowns,” Lydia said. Seeing the outraged look on Abigail’s face, she held up her hands and said, “There was merely an accident with the garments. I shall have new ones soon enough, I assure you. Wait a moment, did you not say the footmen have my trunks? Is it possible for you to fetch something appropriate for me to wear?”
“Of course, My Lady,” Abigail replied, grateful that she could do something to make her mistress appear fitting to her station. “I shall return at once.”
“Thank you, Abigail. You’ve been far more help than you can know,” Lydia said before the maid closed the door.
Abigail returned a short while later looking ashen, not even pausing to knock. She threw herself into Lydia’s chambers and closed the door soundly behind her, shaking as she braced it shut with her body.
“Please forgive me, My Lady, but I could not wait in the hall,” she began, apologizing for entering the room without waiting to be admitted. “There’s a terrible row taking place downstairs and I don’t know what to make of it.”
“What is it, Abigail?” Lydia demanded fearfully, taking Abigail by the hand and pulling her away from the door so that she might look out. Abigail refused to move, shaking her head violently.
“No, My Lady, you mustn’t! I fear it is not safe!” the maid cried, pressing back against the door to prevent Lydia from exiting. “There’s a man, and I think it would be your husband! He’s grabbed up a woman—a lady, by the looks of her—and is cajoling her mightily while threatening to cart her out of the house by her physical person!”
Lydia bit back a laugh, feeling rather shameful for taking any sort of delight in the situation. She straightened up and suppressed a smile before explaining.
“Lord Paxton is removing an unwanted house guest who has refused to depart,” Lydia said evenly, hoping she would not have to explain who the guest might be. Abigail still stared at her wide-eyed in terror, forcing Lydia to explain. “I do hope this information will never leave this room, Abigail, but it is the Dowager Countess who refuses to go.”
“No, My Lady, I swear I will not utter a word on the subject for the rest of my life,” Abigail answered, “but the Dowag—you don’t mean his own mother? And he’s tossing her on the street in such a way?”
Lydia nodded gravely. “There are… issues. These are matters that I should not even know about, let alone discuss with anyone. I only tell you what little I’ve revealed so that you may rest easy in the knowledge that I am perfectly safe. Lord Paxton, for that matter, is completely in his right mind.”
Abigail watched Lydia warily for some time, then nodded. “If you are certain that you are safe, My Lady…”
“I am completely well, and I will be even more so once the guest has departed.” Lydia smiled reassuringly. “But tell me at once, how is my sister? Is she well? Does she ask for me?
“Of course, My Lady,” Abigail replied, “but she is getting on well enough. There was some trouble with her governess being let go, though.”
“That does not upset me,” Lydia replied. “I always felt the woman was a little too stern.”
When Lydia was dressed and her hair fashionably coifed, Abigail looked down for a moment before saying, “Since I’ve already gone and acted like I don’t know my place, I thought I might say one more thing. Please don’t be cross with me for it.”
“You can say anything, Abigail,” Lydia promised. “You’ve more than earned it for coming all the way over here and being such a tremendous help to me.”
