by Gay, Gloria
That he did not attend the season.
That he attended, was introduced to her and no recognition of her reflected in his eyes.
If either of these happened, she must force herself to go on. Life must go on even without a single dream to hang on to. She must do this for her parents, for they had loved her and had wanted what was best for her.
She must do this for her dear Aunt Julia and Uncle Harold, for they had fought so hard to gain guardianship of her and had now succeeded in forcing Jalenta to ease the grip on Lydia she had had all her life.
Being able to see her aunt and uncle with ease now was enough to give her a glimmer of hope for her future. Participation in the season took second place to being once more with the aunt and uncle she loved so dearly.
“And then, eventually, she would be twenty-four and free.
At the very least even if Simon did not recognize or acknowledge her if they met during the season, she would see the dear young man of her dreams whose memory had helped her put up with her harrowing existence for the years that followed. The dream that had never faded would be right before her again, filling her with joy, even if he could not ever be hers.
The drawing had kept him alive for her. She would recognize him instantly.
She couldn’t wait to start her season, because somewhere, in one of those balls or receptions, she was certain she was going to see him.
She felt it in her bones.
She had often read about the social season in the newspapers Jalenta bought. When Jalenta tossed a copy of a newspaper in the ash bin, Lydia picked it up surreptitiously and it would disappear into the back of her wardrobe where no one ever searched.
When her twenty-first year came and went without anything different happening, she knew that the time spent going to balls and other receptions would not be for her as they were for other girls.
But then her life was not like the life of other girls. Her life as she had known it, full of light and love, had ended the day her parents had died in a carriage accident. First her mother and then her father a few weeks after. Lydia had been three years old when her parents died.
Twice there had been a glimmer of hope when her Aunt Julia and Uncle Harold had insisted that she be allowed to visit with them.
The first time had been when she was about five or six but the memory of her meeting with them had never faded.
She had thought she was to leave with them and had cried afterwards when the Sandvels left without her.
The second time had been when she was almost thirteen and she spent a month with them. Jalenta had given in, fearing Lydia’s Uncle Howard might resort to friends in government if they did not allow them a visit. Lydia had heard Jalenta expressing these fears to her brother.
That month had been like a bit of heaven squeezed between the cruel sides of her somber life. She knew then that her Aunt Julia and Uncle Harold were trying to obtain custody of her, and she had been overjoyed.
But then Uncle Harold had had an accident and had lost the use of his legs. She had often heard Jalenta and Dwain laughing derisively about it.
Her aunt had explained everything to her in one of the few letters that had reached Lydia.
As the years went by, Lydia had lost all hope of ever being rescued from Jalenta and Dwain.
She would have to wait until she was twenty-four, when she would become independent of them, for she could not imagine marrying at the age of twenty-one when she was allowed no friendships of any kind, least of all a friendship with a young man.
But she had at least a few letters from her aunt through the years, any letter that had not been snatched before it reached Lydia and been destroyed by Jalenta.
She shivered at the thought that Jalenta was desperate that Lydia had reached her twenty-first birthday, for if she married on her own, she would be free of them.
She had overheard Jalenta and Dwain speaking of this on several occasions.
She shuddered when they discussed possible men from whom they would force her to marry. More than men these were creatures from the underworld that would agree to Jalenta’s terms.
The next few days Lydia did her chores in silence, neither appearing glad for the London season that was in store for her, nor apprehensive about it.
She didn’t want to give Jalenta a clue as to her thoughts and feelings which would only become weapons that she could use against her.
Chapter 16
The following day, as she and her maid hurried home with their purchases, Jalenta collided with a donkey cart that was turning a corner as she was crossing the street. As usual, she walked a few paces ahead of her maid, so the cart hit her, alone.
She held only her reticule and a small bag of purchases which went flying off in the air. Her maid carried the larger bags.
She yelled out as the cart went over her leg near the doorstep of a building.
The man with the horse and buggy took off, not wanting to investigate the screams which had resulted from the collision.
Some passersby helped Jalenta to the steps of the nearest building and she gave coin to a boy to go to her house which was just on the next block and bring back Dwain to help her to the house. She ordered her maid to stay with her until her brother came.
Jalenta writhed in pain, stretched out on her bed. So strong was the pain that she was unable to get out of bed on her own.
She rang the bell frantically and after five minutes Mary, her maid-of-all chores other than cooking came in. She looked like she had dressed in a hurry. Some of her buttons were undone and her cap was askew.
“Why didn’t you come when I rang for you?” she asked in a loud strident voice.
“Me back’s been hurtin’ somat awful, Miss. Up all night almost.”
“I don’t believe you!” Jalenta motioned brusquely for Mary to help her get out of bed. But the minute she was on her feet, the woman felt the need to vomit and yelled at Mary to get the chamber pot.
“Looks like you be sick yerself, m’am,” said Mary, turning her head away from the smell of the vomit. “Shouldn’t get out of bed jis’ yet.”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Jalenta said in a sour voice.
Nevertheless, she was unable to stay on her feet and even sitting down she felt a pain so awful she motioned to Mary to help her back onto the bed.
Mary refrained herself from saying “Tol’ ye so.” She would say the phrase to Cook and to Benny, the upstairs maid.
All three of the servants were new to the job and often discussed among themselves how they despised Jalenta and her brother and how they would bolt the minute they had another position.
“Hand me that paper on the stand,” Jalenta ordered with a grimace.
“Here ye be, miss. Anything else?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re dismissed,” she said with a shake of the head. “Now get me a cup of tisane tea. At once!”
“Yes, Miss,” said the maid and hurried out of the room.
Jalenta perused the court order with its impressive royal seal. She wanted to find a paragraph that stated that in the event Lydia’s guardian was ill during Lydia’s London season, she would be able to cancel Lydia’s participation. Instead she found a clause that made her yell out in anger:
Jalenta’s yells brought Dwain’s rushing to her room. Dwain’s burly frame was encased in a long flannel nightgown adorned with stains and on his balding head he wore a tight knitted cap down to his eyes that made his ample cheeks appear to bulge out.
“What’s wrong, Jal? I thought the house was on fire!”
“Sit down you idiot. I need to tell you something!
“Is your leg hurting again?”
“Isn’t it obvious—auggh! Did you find out the name of the idiot who ran me over?”
“No—I—got me a stomach ache myself from going back there and carrying all your shopping things.
“Never seen you sick in my life,” Dwain added, appalled at seeing his half-sister in any
way other than in full command.
For a few moments she only panted in pain.
“Maybe I should just go get Dr. Vending and you can tell me the other thing you want me to do after I bring him.
“All right with you if I do that?” Dwain wanted someone other than him in charge of the situation.
His sister nodded, grimacing in pain as she did so.
After Dr. Vending had examined Jalenta’s leg he shook his head.
“It’s a very bad sprain—runs the length of the leg. You were a hairsbreadth from breaking it, Miss Conty,” he said. “There seems to be a lot of tissue damage.
“You are lucky it was a cart rather than a carriage that ran over it.
“After I put a poultice on it, I am going to bandage it. Once that’s done, you must stay in bed for a week, at least. After that you’ll be able to walk only with stilts, a little at a time.
“I am afraid it’s going to take a long time for the swelling to go down. Probably two weeks with the stilts.”
“If you should fall back on your limb you risk breaking it.
“I will now give you something for the pain,” he added.
“I—feel—faint—” Jalenta could not finish the sentence. She was sweating profusely, and her body was shaking, more at the doctor’s words than at any pain, although the pain was considerable.
“If you agree, I can get a nurse for you,” said the doctor. I am sure your maid is not trained to help you as you should be helped.
“You’ll need to hire a nurse to have her with you at all times to help you get in and out of bed and to help with your feeding and other matters.”
“Lydia will do well enough. Where is she, by the way? She should be here listening to your instructions.”
“Miss Millston will not be tending to you, Miss Conty. The order from the court specifies that Miss Millston will participate in the London social Season and she will spend the twelve weeks of the season with Sir Harold Sandvel and Lady Sandvel, her aunt and uncle.”
“That is the most outrageous thing I’ve heard yet. She should be tending her aunt that has given her shelter and care all these years.”
“She will comply with the court order, Miss Conty, and so will you,” said the doctor firmly. “Let us not hear any more about this subject.”
Jalenta was barely able to nod.
“Very well. My nurse, Miss Arting’s sister will come by shortly.I will administer laudanum for the pain before I start to bandage your limb.
“Shall I assign you a nurse, then?”
Jalenta nodded. For the first time in her life she was not in control and she felt furious in her helplessness. She was also upset at the extra expense of a nurse.
“I’ll have your maid arrange for a cot for the nurse to be brought to your bedroom if that’s all right with you. She will have to stay the night.”
A wail of pain escaped from Jalenta.
Dr. Vending assured her the pain medicine would take a few minutes to start taking effect, and that she would feel a lot better soon.
Then he asked Dwain to go with him to the front drawing-room.
“Miss Millston is to be transferred tomorrow to the home of Sir Harold and Lady Sandvel, as they are to sponsor her during her participation in the social season,” he told Dwain, “and that is exactly what will take place.”
“Yeah—well…” Dwain stalled, “…maybe now that my sister’s sick Lydia should just stay home and wait on her.”
“No, Dwain,” said the doctor, firmly. “That is not going to happen.
“Lydia is to get a good night’s sleep so that she will be fresh and rested tomorrow, when she will be transferred to Sir Harold and Lady Sandvel’s household for the length of the season, which is twelve weeks.
“That is the order from the court, and I am here in my brother’s behalf to see that his instructions are carried out.
“My brother, the solicitor, Edgar Vending, was assigned to see to the execution of this order. He will return tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, I will act in his stead.”
Some weeks past when Doctor Vending had moved to the area, taking over the previous doctor’s practice, he had begun to suspect that Miss Conty’s ward was being abused. Quietly, he had collected evidence from some of his patients who were also acquainted with the Contys.
Lydia’s downtrodden attitude was what had first alerted him to it, and he had every intention of doing something about it. The girl was dressed in old clothes too large for her.
Then, when Jalenta showed him the court order he realized his chance to expose her and her brother had come in a neat package.
Shortly after, Dr. Vending received a missive from his solicitor brother, Edgar Vending, who was in charge of overseeing that the court order was carried out by Jalenta Conty. In the letter his brother asked him to act in his stead for a few days and to see that Miss Lydia Millston was provided with several new gowns with which she was to be transferred to the Sandvel’s household for the entire twelve-week social Season.
“When is she to leave for their house, then?” Dwain asked, somberly.
“Sir Harold is coming for Miss Millston this morning, at ten,” the doctor said.
“Is her trunk and portmanteau ready? He asked. “I fear that with Miss Conty’s illness Miss Millston may not be aware of it. Will you fetch her, please?”
“Uh—I guess, doctor.” Dwain had never heard of Lydia having any such things as trunks and portmanteaus but maybe Jalenta had leant her hers, not wanting the snoopy Sandvels to know Lydia was as poor as a church mouse when it came to trunks and such.
Dwain left and the doctor went back to the bedroom and to his patient, who was still in pain and twisting about in the tangle she had made of the bed sheets.
He dissolved another packet of laudanum in the glass of water that was half-filled and helped her to drink the liquid.
“I am increasing the dosage of laudanum, Miss Conty, until my nurse arrives,” he said in his soothing voice and Jalenta slurped the water eagerly.
Chapter 17
Dwain returned with Lydia in his wake.
“Ah, Miss Millston,” said the doctor. “Your aunt has a nasty injury in one of her limbs, which I will be bandaging shortly, as no doubt Dwain has informed you.”
“I’m not—I’m not going to—” Lydia glanced at the bed where Jalenta was in a tangle of bedclothes and her hair was plastered to her head. She appeared less than conscious of her surroundings.
“You will be going to your aunt and uncle’s house this morning, as planned, Miss Millston,” the doctor said, guessing what Lydia feared.
“I and the nurse will attend to your aunt,” he added. “You are to do no work in this household during the London Season. Nor are you to live here.
“You are to go to the home of your relations, Sir Harold and Lady Sandvel when they come to fetch you in about an hour and you will remain there during the twelve weeks following.
“You cannot change your plans, according to the court order. Nothing will be allowed to keep you from that.”
Lydia suppressed a sigh of relief and thanked the doctor.
“But I was anxious to find out from Dwain here if you have your trunk and portmanteau ready.”
“I—Aunt Jalenta said for me to take her valise. It’s—ready, doctor.”
“Very well, my dear,” said the doctor. “And you have adequate clothing in the valise?” He looked askance at Lydia’s grey worn frock.
“I’m going to change into a new frock. Aunt Jalenta said to change into it half an hour before the carriage came—the carriage my Aunt and Uncle Sandvel are going to send for me,” Lydia said, as she walked out of the bedroom with the doctor.
“Very well,” said Dr. Vending with a glance at Jalenta, who had started to doze off with the sedative he had given her.
He turned again to Lydia. “I await the arrival of my nurse, Miss Millston. Once the nurse is installed with your aunt and you have changed into your new clothes, ple
ase join me in the front room and we shall await the carriage that is to come fetch you.
“If you have the valise ready, then you can have it taken there to await the carriage.”
“Yes, doctor,” said Lydia with a wide smile. “I’ll go fetch it.” Lydia had four semi-new gowns in it that she hadn’t used. Jalenta had hurriedly obtained two evening gowns as well as two walking frocks for her and a new pelisse, all obtained hurriedly from a quality used-clothes store.
It was obvious to Dr. Vending that Jalenta didn’t want Sir Harold and Lady Sandvel to see how Lydia was usually dressed.
And how Lydia was dressed was what had first alerted Dr. Vending to the conditions in which Jalenta’s ward lived.
With that beautiful face, the doctor thought, Lydia would not be long in the marriage mart. The thought must be making Jalenta crazy. He smiled at this. Justice was coming to their street.
Dr. Vending walked down the corridor with Lydia. “I would like to visit you in a couple of days, Miss Millston, to let you know how your aunt is coming along. What is the direction to the Sandvel residence?”
“It’s in Berkeley Place, 29,” said Lydia, smiling at him. “I would be very glad for your visit, Doctor.”
At that moment, Dwain caught up with them, out of breath. Dr. Vending deduced from this that Jalenta had ordered him never to leave Lydia alone with anyone, not even the doctor.
Once Lydia went to her room to change, Dr. Vending waited in the front room and Dwain waited with him.
“Is my sister going to be all right soon, doctor?” asked Dwain in a nervous voice.
Dr. Vending had sized up this odd couple right away. It was obvious Dwain hated for Jalenta not to be in charge.
He hadn’t the smallest leadership bone in his massive body and followed his sister’s orders without complaint. Obviously, Jalenta had ordered him not to leave the doctor alone with Lydia.
“Her leg is not broken, but from the pain she is having it appears to be a bad internal sprain with deep gashes as a result of the wheel going over her limb,” the doctor replied.