by Leah Conolly
Yours affectionately,
C.
Lydia looked up and saw her friend waiting expectantly for her to say something. "He sounds like the perfect gentleman."
Patricia smiled. "He is very eloquent. I am beside myself, trying to figure out the mystery of his identity. Who do you think it is? There are so many customers that come into the shop. I cannot think who it could be. Perhaps the baker's son, down the street? He is quite handsome."
Lydia shook her head. "I haven't the faintest idea." She once again took her friend's hands. "All I know is that you deserve to be happy. And I am happy for you."
Patricia's smile faded. "Are you still upset with Lord Beaumont?"
Lydia nodded. "I received a letter from him yesterday."
“What did he say? Did you answer him?"
"He says he loves me. That Lady Horn was behind everything, trying to keep us apart," she explained. "I'm so confused. He wants to see me, but I do not know if I can trust him again. What if Lady Horn was right, that he was only seeing me because he felt sorry for me? I will not be pitied!" she said, impassioned.
"He loves you," Patricia said. "And I know you love him." She bit her lip as if she needed to confess something. "I must confess that I might have meddled a little, but. . ."
Lydia let go of her hands. "What do you mean?"
"Eleanor found the note you wrote in the cover of the book Lord Beaumont recommended. She came to me, and I helped her draft a letter to Lord Beaumont. She tore the cover page out of the book and sent it to him," Patricia said.
"You did what?!" she cried in alarm. "That was not meant for him to see, for anyone to see!" Lydia stood and started pacing about the room. She felt embarrassed that they had unveiled her deepest thoughts and desires to a man she was not sure she trusted.
"You love him. He is a worthy gentleman, Lydia. Give him a chance. You know now that Lady Horn was behind everything, and his mother, too. He has been nothing but faithful to you from the beginning. Please don't let this chance pass you by. You will regret it for the rest of your life if you do."
Lydia turned around to face her friend. "You should not have stolen my letter and given it to him. It was not your place."
"Technically, that was Eleanor." Patricia smiled, trying to make light of the situation. She stood and grabbed Lydia’s hand. "I want you to be happy, too, Lydia. You have been through so much. Endured so much for the sake of your family. You deserve to be happy now. You have spent so much time taking care of everyone else. Now it's time to let someone take care of you."
Lydia let that sink in. It was true that she had carried the burden for her family for a long time. Was she keeping Christopher at arm's length because she was afraid to let someone take care of her? For some reason, it felt like a weakness to allow someone to do that. She finally nodded, tears pooling in her eyes.
Patricia wrapped her arm around Lydia's middle. "You are worthy of love, my dear friend. You are not just a commodity to be married off to the highest bidder."
Lydia broke out in tears then. Patricia let her cry on her shoulder and gave her a handkerchief to dry her tears. After a few minutes, she took Lydia by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Write to him, Lydia. I promise you won't be disappointed."
***
Lady Horn took her time going home. She asked to stay with one of her friends, a fellow debutante. She had failed, and she could not now go home and face her mother. She knew there would be hell to pay.
The next morning, she had her coachman drive her home. Her parents would be none too happy that she had stayed away all night, taking the carriage with her without a word. Her father would probably cart her off to a convent post-haste, without even hearing an explanation of where she had been.
She tried to creep up to her room unnoticed, arriving at the house just after sunrise, but her mother was already awake.
"Diana," she called softly from the parlor. Diana cringed. Her mother must be furious if she was using her calm voice.
She took a deep breath and turned, going back down the hall, and entering the parlor. Her mother sat in her nightdress, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked as though she had sat up all night, waiting for Diana to return.
"Good morning, Mama," she said timidly.
Her mother stood and nodded.
"Good morning?" she asked. "And what, pray, makes it a good morning? The only way it will be a good morning is if you tell me that Lord Beaumont is going to be my future son-in-law."
Diana shrank back slightly. "No, Mother. He is not," she said, letting the words sink in.
"And where have you been all night, pray tell?" her mother asked, still as calm as ever.
"I went to stay with Lady Jane Fulton," she replied.
"Ah, you thought to give me a heart attack before coming home to deliver this news?" she asked, menacingly.
Diana had no idea that she meant so much to her mother. "I tried, Mother. I went to see Lord Clarkson, as you suggested, but he did not believe me," she began.
"You overplayed your hand," her mother accused.
Diana stood there, mouth agape, not knowing what else to say.
"Well, there is only one alternative to Lord Beaumont. You knew this,” her mother said. She started to walk past Diana and out into the hallway.
"It was not my fault, Mother!"
"Not your fault?!" Her mother's calm facade suddenly vanished. This was what she had expected all along.
Diana backed away from her, not knowing what her mother would do.
"All of this is your fault. But, fortunately enough for you, we still have the marquess. You will marry him by the end of the summer. Sooner, if it can be arranged," her mother said.
"Why? Why are you so eager to be rid of me?" Diana asked.
Her mother came towards her again, the calm facade back in place. "You were not born a boy. That is why. Girls are useful for making alliances and producing male heirs, nothing more. You are worthless to me while you remain unmarried."
Her mother's words stung, more deeply than anything else she could have said. A silent tear made a track down Diana’s cheeks.
"Stop crying. Crying is for the weak.” Her mother straightened her nightcap and wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Pick yourself up and be prepared to pursue the marquess. We have work to do."
She turned and walked out of the room. Diana sank down on one of the chairs. She was too stunned to cry, too upset to feel anything. She had failed, and now her life was over. She would pass the rest of her existence as the lonely wife of a man old enough to be her father, with two daughters to care for. It was all so unfair. And, at that moment, she hated Lady Baker more than ever.
Chapter 32
Eleanor came into the drawing room a few minutes later, offering to play the piano for Lydia and Patricia. Their father joined them when he heard the music, reading his newspaper as he listened.
Patricia had decided to stay with them until her appointment with her mystery admirer. Lydia sat back and listened to the soft music, determined to write to Lord Beaumont that evening. Perhaps I shall even wait until morning, to teach him a lesson, she thought.
She was still hurt that Eleanor and Patricia had gone behind her back and sent him the note. And that he had written to Eleanor, incorporating her into his plot to ambush Lydia with his letter. For now, she wanted to celebrate with Patricia and support her friend, while she waited with apprehension for her appointment at noon.
But, as the morning wore on, Lydia began to have second thoughts. She was not usually vindictive, nor was she one to play games. She thought about excusing herself for a while, so she could write to Christopher. She missed him. She knew that it was not like her to hold grudges. If she behaved like this now, then she was no better than Lady Horn or any of the other ladies who used and manipulated other people to get their way.
She stood and readied to leave the drawing-room, but she was interrupted before she could make her excuses.
“Lord Beaumont is here to see you, my lady,” Jane announced. Lydia felt as though she might faint, and her heart pounded in her ears.
“Lord Beaumont?” she said, shocked that he would seek her out. She was sorry that she had not written to him sooner. What kind of games must he think she was playing?
“Well, show him in!” their father exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his lips.
Eleanor had stopped playing, and Patricia turned her chair around so that they could all welcome Lord Beaumont together. Lydia was speechless. Why was he here? Had he come to tell her he was done with her? She had ruined everything again! And there was no fixing it now.
The butler showed Lord Beaumont into the drawing-room, and he bowed his head. Lydia curtsied, her breath coming in short bursts. She had never been so nervous in all her life.
“Lord Beaumont,” her voice shook. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
He stepped into the room, locking eyes with her. “Lady Lydia, I have come to see . . . to ask you . . .” he began as he came toward her. He stopped a few feet away. She looked up into his kind, brown eyes. The world swam before her eyes as tears filled them.
“It is so good to see you, Lord Beaumont. I think we shall excuse ourselves,” Eleanor piped up. Lydia broke eye contact with Lord Beaumont and turned, wiping furiously at her tears. Her father touched her arm and flashed her a smile. He then followed Patricia and Eleanor out into the hallway. Lydia did not turn around, even after she heard the door to the drawing room close.
She could hear Lord Beaumont breathing a few feet behind her, but he said nothing for a long moment. She sheepishly turned. He was standing with his hat in his hand, looking just as nervous and scared as she was.
“I have come to apologize. I did not see what Lady Horn was doing to you. She weaseled her way into my mother’s good graces and has been plotting to keep us apart all along. And for that, I am truly sorry,” he said. He took a step toward her and continued. “When we first met, I was rude, callous, and arrogant. I cannot imagine what you thought of me. But I have changed. You have helped me to change. I was so bitter and angry, stuck in my own world. You helped me to see that life is beautiful.”
He took another step towards her. She felt her hands shaking at his nearness. “I have never felt this way before, never thought I would. I should have asked you to marry me long ago. I am sorry it took me so long to see what you mean to me. But never again. Lydia?” he murmured beseechingly, suddenly getting down on one knee.
She covered her mouth with her hands, and the tears began to flow once more.
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked.
Her tears were mixed with laughter. “Yes! Yes, I will,” she replied joyfully.
The door to the drawing-room was suddenly flung open. He stood and turned, as he and Lydia surveyed the intruders. Christopher made eye contact with their father. “That is, if you will give us your blessing, sir.”
Lydia’s father nodded and came to shake his hand. “With all my heart, my boy. I give you both my heartiest congratulations.”
Patricia rolled Eleanor in, and they both gave the happy couple their congratulations, too. “Do you forgive us now for interfering?” Eleanor inquired mischievously
Lydia rolled her eyes and went to hug her little sister. “Yes, of course, I forgive you.” She was far too happy to stay angry at anyone. She hugged Patricia, too, and whispered, “Thank you.”
She returned to Christopher’s side, and, before she knew what was happening, he took her in his arms and kissed her. The pit of her stomach exploded into butterflies when his lips touched hers, like fireworks exploding at an exhibition.
When he lifted his head, she was breathless. And embarrassed at having displayed such a blatant show of affection in front of her family and best friend.
Lydia heard her father clear his throat. She inched away slightly from her soon-to-be husband. “Congratulations to you both,” her father said, trying to hide a smile.
Eleanor and Patricia giggled in the doorway.
“On that note, I should be on my way to meet my own secret admirer,” Patricia announced. “I am so happy for both of you.”
“Thank you, Patricia. Do come and let me know who it is,” Lydia said, walking her to the front door.
“I will,” she promised.
Lydia took Patricia’s hand, sensing her friend’s trepidation. “Don’t be nervous. Whomever he turns out to be, he is a lucky man, and a clever one to have chosen you.”
“Thank you,” Patricia said, squeezing her friend’s hand.
“This calls for a celebration!” her father exclaimed when she returned to the drawing room. “Will you stay for dinner, Lord Beaumont?”
“I would be delighted,” Christopher replied.
Their father went to tell the cook to prepare something special for dinner that evening.
Christopher placed a hand on her arm, stopping her from returning into the drawing room. “I love you, Lydia,” he whispered. He wrapped an arm around her waist, capturing her cheek with his other hand. He bent and kissed her again, more passionately this time.
She looked up into his eyes when he ended the kiss. “I love you, too.”
***
Christopher and Lord Baker sat in the dining room, sipping port, and smoking celebratory cigars after the splendid meal. Christopher was eager to join the ladies, but he was also glad of this moment to talk with Lord Baker. Lydia’s father leaned over and offered him some more port.
“No, thank you, sir. I don’t indulge all that often,” Christopher said. He really did not like the taste of port but had taken it to be polite. On the other hand, he was enjoying his cigar immensely. He blew a smoke circle into the air, watching it float away towards the ceiling.
“I suppose we should discuss the matter of Lydia’s dowry,” her father said. Christopher sat up straighter, not realizing that her father was going to broach this subject so soon after the two of them had become engaged. “I am sorry to say that it is not much.”
Christopher smiled. “I am not worried about that, sir. I hope you will not be offended, but I have heard that you owe quite a sum to Eleanor’s doctors, he said.
Her father lay down his cigar in the crystal tray. “I do. She has made improvements, but the treatments are expensive. I am sorry to say that I have allowed our finances to be drained over this last year. Not that all our finances have been doctor’s bills. I have barely been able to keep the estate afloat. It has been hard for me since Lydia’s mother died,” he replied.
“I understand all too well the pressures that come with running an estate. That is why I would be delighted if you would allow me to discharge your debts, my lord. All of them,” he added.
Lord Baker looked at his prospective son-in-law as if he had been struck. “No, I cannot allow that. You have already done so much. I know it is you that has been sending us funds anonymously.”
“You are about to be a part of my family. I will count it a great honor if you allow me to do this for you.” Christopher insisted. “I should also like to take over the payments to Eleanor’s doctor. Do you think she would be opposed to seeking a second opinion?” he asked.
Lydia’s father had tears of relief pooling in the corners of his eyes. “I think she would be most pleased and accommodating. I know that it is her greatest wish to be able to walk again one day,” he explained.
“I believe we all wish that for her. But if she does not, I want to put your mind at ease. Eleanor will always have a place with Lydia and me, that is, if she and Colonel Jacobs do not end up marrying. I thought he would have proposed already,” Christopher smiled.
“I thought so, too. But perhaps he is holding to the tradition of the oldest sister marrying before asking for her hand. I think they are well-matched, though. And I will gladly give my consent when he comes to ask for it,” he said, beaming once again.
Christopher nodded. “All I know is that Colon
el Jacobs and I are the luckiest men in England to have found affection in the hearts of the Baker sisters. They are a credit to you, sir.”
“Thank you. They are much better than I deserve. But I am trying to turn over a new leaf in that regard. I have grieved so for the last ten years. It is time to move forward, in hope.”
“Well said, sir,” Christopher smiled. “And on that note, shall we rejoin the ladies?”
“Yes, indeed,” Lydia’s father replied.
They both stood, but before they went into the drawing room, Lord Baker took Christopher’s hand and shook it firmly. “Thank you, Lord Beaumont. You have taken a great weight off my shoulders. When I am gone, I know my daughters will be in good hands.”