“As they should be, Mary; your family needs your wisdom.”
Chapter Thirteen
As morning dawned, Lydia took to the streets again, hoping to find someone who would help her. Food was her primary concern, so she needed money; perhaps she could work in a shop? She walked into several establishments, asking if there was something, anything, she could do to earn some money, but she was turned away every time.
By mid-afternoon, she was at the end of her strength. She sank down onto the pavement and covered her face with her hands; she wept silently. There was no help for her and no hope.
Then she heard a voice say, “Are you all right, Miss?”
Lydia raised her head and saw a young lady of about her own age. “I do not think I am,” she said, honestly, her face wet with her tears.
“Papa, we must help her,” the young lady said, speaking over her shoulder.
A man dressed in fine clothing shook his head at his daughter. “Alice, you cannot adopt a young woman as if she were a stray dog.”
“But Iama stray!” Lydia burst out, sensing possible rescue at hand. “I am lost, hungry, tired…” Her voice faded away.
“Have you no family in London?”
Lydia considered this, briefly. Thie gentleman would possibly drive her to Gracechurch Street, but then what. She imagined herself appearing at the Gardiners – even if she could find theright house! – after an attempted elopement. Everyone would know what she had done, thanks to that terrible letter she had left for Harriet Forster, and Mama’s inability to keep anything to herself. Mama would have told Aunt Philips and Lady Lucas about the elopement, and it would have been all around Meryton by nightfall! If Lydia returned home, she would be lectured endlessly, scolded from dawn till dusk. She would likely be returned to the schoolroom, and locked in for the rest of her life. So she made a fast decision.
“No; none at all,” she said. “No family. I am an orphan. I came to London looking for work, but I did not expect it to be so very difficult. It will soon be dark and I am quite frightened of being on my own. Last night and the night before, I slept in someone’s doorway – “ And here she broke down again.
“Oh, Papa!” the girl said. “We cannot just leave her here!”
“Alice, if we took in every orphan on the London streets –“
The girl interrupted him. “I shall not sleep, knowing that she is here on the sidewalk alone. What will happen once night falls? Shall she sleep in a doorway again? What unimaginable things might happen to her? Do you want that on your conscience, Papa?”
The gentleman tried to speak, but his daughter overrode him. “Did Mrs. Hodges not say that we need a new upstairs maid, since Jenna left?”
“But she has no references!” the gentleman expostulated.
“Just look at her,” the girl said. “She is young and strong. Surely she can work.”
“I can, I can work!” Lydia put in, doing her best to sound eager to do so.
The gentleman sighed and threw up his hands. “I hate to think what Mrs. Hodges will have to say, but very well.” He looked down at Lydia. “You would be safe in my house, but you would have to work very hard.” He looked askance at her clothing; her dress was dirty, but it was certainly not the typical attire of a poor farm girl. He wondered who she really was. “What is your name?” he enquired.
“Lydia,” she answered, standing up and grasping her satchel firmly. “Lydia – Lydia Lucas.”
Trembling with hunger, as well as relief, she was taken to the gentleman’s carriage. Whatever awaited her, whatever work she was required to do, was bound to be better than having to fend for herself on London’s busy streets.
“When did you last eat, Lydia?” the young lady asked her.
“Two days ago,” Lydia mumbled.
“Well, we shall have Cook get something for you as soon as we arrive.”
She was as good as her word; the moment the carriage pulled up in front of a large townhouse, she hurried Lydia out of the carriage and downstairs to the kitchen. “Cook,” she said, speaking to a large woman in an enormous apron. “This young woman is near to starving.”
The aproned woman spoke not a word, but a plate with an apple, a large piece of cheese, and a thick slice of bread was set before Lydia in just a moment. Lydia fell upon it, thinking she had never tasted anything so wonderful in her life.
***
The family that had rescued Lydia lived in a fine house on Ring Street; she would later hear it said that this address was a mere stone’s throw from Grosvenor Square, so it was evidentlyquite fashionable. The young lady who had rescued her, Miss Alice, was the youngest daughter of the family. Her father was Baron Greenfield, his wife was Lady Greenfield. There was a son, Nathaniel, at Eton, as well as a younger son, Robert, who was being tutored at home. There was an older daughter, Miss Emily, who had had her come-out the year before, but was not yet married.
***
