“That’s just it, My Lady,” she said, a worried look upon her face. “If you do not have a lady’s maid as you said, could I trouble you to put in a word for me with Lord Paxton? I would be so honored to tend to you here in your new home, and after all, there’s no need of me in your uncle’s house. I do not wish to be turned out for not having anyone to tend to.”
“Is Madame Saunier no longer at Bronson?” Lydia asked, slightly intrigued.
“Oh, she is! But Madam already has a maid, and I’m just sitting idle,” Abigail said. “I’ve been trying to make sure I’m useful so that no one questions why I’m there or earning my wages, but without a lady of the house, I’m afraid of losing my position.”
“I will gladly speak to Lord Paxton,” Lydia said firmly, smiling at the maid. Remembering Matthew’s words from only the evening before, she paused a moment and added, “Actually, I should like to offer you the position myself.”
“Truly? My Lady, it’s unheard of!” Abigail said, though she was beaming.
“I have His Lordship’s permission to make a good number of decisions. I do not wish to cause any disruption at Bronson Manor, however, so I will leave it to you to resign your position there in your own due time. Only know that when you have submitted it, your position here will start that same day.”
“Oh thank you, My Lady!” Abigail cried, tears of relief and happiness already filling her eyes. “I shall inform the housekeeper this very day and send word as soon as I know I will be coming.”
“Very good, Abigail, I’m so glad you asked this of me,” Lydia answered. “Now, if you could request that the footmen bring up those trunks, I think I should go downstairs and see to this commotion you spoke of.”
* * *
Penelope sat at the table in the dining room, pushing a bit of egg yolk around with her edge of her spoon. Watching the yellow river move away from the push of the implement made her melancholy, in a way. Why could everything not be so simply moved and brought under control?
Lydia’s situation had certainly been awful, but the chaos of it was astounding. Through no fault of her own, she had been thrust into unenviable storm waters that no one should have to face. And now, to learn that her husband wanted nothing to do with her beyond a name at home made Penelope succumb to rather sad, pitying thoughts.
“What are you doing?” Lady Pembolt called out from the doorway, noticing Penelope sitting alone at this hour.
“Nothing,” Penelope answered curtly, avoiding her mother’s questioning glance.
The ruffle of heavy skirts told Penelope that her mother was approaching and most likely would demand a word with her, but she cared not. Her heart was still burdened by the callous nature of her mother’s accusations towards Lydia, and she was not of the mindset to forgive her yet.
“My daughter, look at me,” Lady Pembolt said kindly as she sat down opposite Penelope at the immense table. “I know you are still angry with me, and I must confess that I would be angry with me as well were I in your position.”
Penelope chanced to look up at her mother, but her expression held no emotion save mistrust. Lady Pembolt watched her daughter and saw the hurt there still.
“Perhaps I was overly harsh in my assessment of Lady Lydia… I mean, Lady Paxton,” her mother began in a reserved tone. “I do not remove my assessment of what harm has come to her good name, but I am able to admit that I was too hurried in my judgment of her actions.”
“Careful, Mother,” Penelope said coldly, refusing to meet her gaze. “If you don’t take care, you’ll accidentally apologize.”
“Penelope, I am apologizing. To you, at the very least,” Lady Pembolt said bitterly. “While her behavior was not ideal, you were right in that much of what she learned was my responsibility. I should have taken more care to watch over her at a social event, just as I watch over you to protect your reputation.”
“So you understand that you must shoulder some of the blame,” Penelope said. “Very good. But what does that mean for Lydia now?”
“What do you mean?” her mother asked.
“So Lydia is restored to your favor? She is free to call on us here and I am free to pay her visits as well?” Penelope asked, remembering how her mother had been put out when she’d learned of her daughter’s visit to Paxton Hall.
“I have not considered that yet. Perhaps when news of her return is not so talked about—” Lady Pembolt said, though Penelope cut her off.
“You mean, perhaps when some other scandal has stolen the attention of the ton? Lydia will only be received again when some other hapless young lady falls from grace? No thank you, Mother. Lydia deserves better than that, and I like it not.”
“It is not a matter of further scandals,” Lady Pembolt argued, trying to keep her temper from flaring as she sought to make amends with her daughter. “It is a matter of time. Once Lydia has been married for a sufficient length of time, and once there is news of her being with child in order to assure others that her marriage is true, then all of this will be behind her.”
“Lydia does not intend to have children,” Penelope explained in a bored voice, as though her revelation were not some unthinkable proclamation. “Theirs is a marriage of convenience only in order to preserve her good name and aid the Earl in his business endeavors.”
Lady Pembolt’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise, her face nearly ashen as she paled. “What? Not have children? But that is unacceptable!”
“Why? It is their decision, not ours,” Penelope countered angrily.
“No, my dear, I mean that it is not allowable,” her mother argued. Before Penelope could voice her offense, Lady Pembolt said, “Even under Scottish law, an elopement across the border is only legally binding if there are children as a result of the union. Without such—meaning they could never annul the marriage—they are not truly married under the law, let alone in the eyes of the Church.”
“What? Why did no one tell me this, or tell Lydia, for that matter?” Penelope demanded, her heart sinking as she thought on her mother’s words.
