Lydia nodded thoughtfully. Though Uncle Julius had still not written to her, he had permitted the remainder of her things to be sent from Bronson Manor. He had even agreed to release Abigail from his employment so that she might come to Paxton Hall. Matthew had informed her that he had even spoken to Julius about Elsie and that he thought it only a matter of time before she would be permitted to reside with them.
Everything was perfect… so what was the cause of this unknown feeling of dread?
Perhaps it was because of the only argument Lydia and Matthew had endured since returning from Scotland. With Uncle Julius willing to overlook Lydia’s untoward elopement now that she was to be rightfully wed, Lydia had sought to mend things with the Dowager Countess of Paxton.
“She is your mother, Matthew,” Lydia had tried to explain as their conflict began. “The day may come when she will no longer be with us, and then what emptiness will you feel for never having spoken again?”
“Emptiness? I should think the deep chasm that has always existed in my heart would be filled with the sound of gleeful laughter and music for the dancing,” Matthew said in jest as he grinned, but Lydia could not tell if he was truly making light of it.
After some measure of anger and a few tears, they had left the topic alone and unresolved. Lydia refused to press the matter at the time, but she felt certain that it would come up again soon.
“Come, your family should arrive soon. We must hurry!” Penelope cried happily, tugging Lydia’s arm until she rose from the bed.
They ate a small breakfast and hurried to try their gowns, which Matthew had insisted they purchase while on an excursion to London a week prior. The dressmaker from the village came along to ensure the hems were a proper fit, then waited with a sly smile when someone knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Lydia called, turning and expecting to see Abigail or one of the house maids. Instead, Matthew looked back at her from the doorway, a playful look on his face.
“Matthew! What do you think?” Lydia asked, smoothing out the wrinkles in her gown. “I thought to wear it tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? No. Those rags will never do,” he answered, scrutinizing the gown and frowning. Lydia blanched and Penelope clutched her hand. They watched as Matthew stepped back out into the hallway and returned with a large flat box. He grinned as he placed it on the chair and beckoned Lydia to open it.
“Matthew,” she breathed softly as she peered down at the contents. “My mother’s gown? How did you manage it?”
Lydia reached inside and took only her fingertips to delicately lift the fabric from the box. Holding it up to the light from the window, she squinted her eyes, examining it all over.
“I sent it off more than a week ago and told them it had to be ready,” Matthew said, smiling shyly. “I think it looks right, but I am no expert on fashions and certainly not those for ladies.”
“It’s perfect,” Lydia said breathlessly. Penelope looked perplexed, but the dressmaker stepped forward and took a handful of the fabric between her fingers, inspecting it herself.
“Yes, My Lady. It is practically perfect, they did an excellent job,” she assured her. Lydia thanked her, then laid it down and hurried to Matthew, throwing her arms around him without a care who might see.
“I cannot recall a better gift anyone has ever given me, nor a more thoughtful one than this,” Lydia said, looking up at Matthew adoringly.
He smiled down at her warmly, then nodded to the dressmaker. “You’re very welcome, Lydia. Mrs. Orner will see that it fits well after what the tailors had wrought to repair it.”
Matthew bid the ladies adieu and closed the door so that the dressmaker could see to her work. Lydia caught Penelope’s eye, who could not contain her joyful expression.
“I know,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes and laughing. “He truly is perfect.”
“I did not say a word,” Penelope said, looking away as she smiled knowingly.
Within the hour, Lord Bronson arrived at Paxton Hall with Madame Saunier and Lady Elsie in tow. Matthew seemed nervous and Lydia waited impatiently, pacing the length of the foyer repeatedly as she waited for them to be escorted in and received.
“Elsie!” Lydia cried in the most undignified way the moment she saw her sister. She noted how the girl clung to Madame Saunier’s hand, but did not say a word.
“Lydia!” Elsie shouted in return, running inside and throwing herself at her sister. The effort toppled both of them to the floor, but Lydia did not care.
Let them look and think what they wish, she thought as she held her sister close.
When she chanced to look up, Lydia saw that Uncle Julius was staring with that irritated expression he always wore while Madame Saunier beamed at her. It was an odd sight, she knew, though Lydia had never had any real quarrel with the woman.
“Am I truly to stay here forever?” Elsie asked without waiting for anyone to broach the subject.
“If Uncle agrees, and only if you wish it,” Lydia said patiently. “But so far as I’m concerned, then you must stay here with me forever.” She kissed her sister on the top of her head and added, “But first, you must come to my wedding as my special guest tomorrow. Is that all right?”
“Of course!” Elsie cried happily. “Won’t Lady Penelope be cross with me though?”
“I don’t think she’ll mind at all,” Lydia promised her sweetly.
