Willow Hall Romance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Series

by Leenie Brown

  “Mrs. Bell’s eyes are still sharp and her fingers, though not so nimble as they once were, are still adept at sewing,” Aunt Tess continued. “As I am sure you can imagine, supplies for such pleasurable activities are often lacking, what with there being no funds to purchase them and few old dresses being available to repurpose. So, today, I have a small packet of material and thread made up for her. She likes to make quilts for the new babies in the church. It is always a gift that is presented after their christening. Mrs. Ross — she is the wife of Mr. Ross, the steward at Aldwood Abbey — will have a new baby in a month’s time or so. This material and some more that I will take to her when I call next week will be used for that child’s quilt.”

  She leaned toward Lydia and spoke more softly. “I have the full amount of supplies at home, but Mrs. Bell would be offended to be given such a large gift all at once. There is a pride that does not diminish as quickly as a need arises. As a mistress, you must be aware of such things and be gentle in your approach. Provide what you can, but do not do so to the harm of the receiver. A spirit is a fragile thing.” And not so easily repaired, she added to herself as she gave Lydia a sidelong look. She was grateful that Lydia seemed willing to learn, but she was not so foolish as to believe that a spirit so put upon by careless words and lack of care would be easily restored. She smiled as Lydia took a small pad of paper from her reticule and peeked surreptitiously at what Lydia was writing.

  Help without harm. Consider the spirit.

  Aunt Tess smiled and returned her focus to the road, satisfied that not only was Lydia an eager pupil; she was also a diligent one.

  Lydia wrote the note as neatly as she could while moving in a carriage. She knew that her mind was perfectly capable of learning a myriad of new things, but she also knew that to have so many things told to her in quick succession would make it difficult to remember them all. Not even Elizabeth would be able to remember everything, although Lydia was confident she would remember more than her sister would.

  She smiled to herself. It was actually something she had tested on a regular basis. Mama would give Elizabeth a list of things to get when in town. Jane would write them down, of course, for Jane always did what was proper, but Elizabeth would insist that she did not need a list. Invariably, however, when the list would be checked before going home, Elizabeth would have forgotten at least one item. Elizabeth needed the list, but Lydia did not. She would always remember every item, but Lydia never mentioned it, of course. Why should she? Elizabeth would listen to no one but Jane.

  In her quest to learn to be a proper mistress of an estate, Lydia would not be like Elizabeth. With this list, Lydia would make certain that she remembered every important detail. There would not be a better mistress of an estate in all of Derbyshire — and that included the mistress of Pemberley.

  “Who will we see after Mrs. Bell?” Lydia asked.

  “We must stop to see that Old Mr. Atkins is not in need of anything, and then we will move on to the Thompsons and Frasers. There is no particular thing we will be providing them aside from a friendly face and a few moments of conversation. However, the children might like you to read to them, and I did tuck a book or two in next to our lunch.” She glanced at Lydia. “You have read to children before, have you not?’

  Lydia nodded her head. “I have, on occasion, attended my mother on tenant calls and would often play with the children or read to them.”

  “Excellent. Then you shall read to the Thompson and Fraser children,” said Aunt Tess. She was glad to know that Lydia was not without some training concerning the duties required of the wife of a man in possession of an estate. Aunt Tess had wished to ask exactly what training Lydia had received, but not wanting to either offend with such a question or receive information which Lydia thought to be true but was, in fact, false, Aunt Tess had chosen to assume the girl next to her had no training whatsoever.

  “Would a mistress be allowed to read to the children on a visit, or would it be considered poor form if she did?” Lydia turned questioning eyes toward her teacher. Mama had never read to the children, but Mama had always been accompanied by Lydia. She did not know if Mama would have read to the children had she been alone. Lydia certainly hoped that being the mistress and not just the daughter would not keep her from such a delightful task.

  “She might,” said Aunt Tess. “Her first duty is, of course, to the lady of the house, but then, if everyone is in agreement, a story to the children might be just the thing to provide the lady of the house with a moment or two to see to a task while the children are occupied.” She pulled back on the reins and slowed Maggie so that the gig could be turned into a small drive up to a tiny cottage. “You may be the mistress of a grand house who employs many servants, but you are — even in such a position — to be a servant to those under your care. You must provide for them, in part, that which they cannot provide for themselves or, at the very least, add some small amount of pleasantness to their lives. Read to the children. Deliver food or clothes. Help knead a loaf of bread, or…” Aunt Tess drew her horse to a stop and motioned toward the boxes of flowers that sat beside the front door to the cottage, “get up to your elbows in dirt and plant a flower or two. They are very cheery are they not?”

  “These are like yours,” said Lydia.

  “That is because they used to be mine. But, a great darkness had fallen on Mrs. Bell when her brother died, and these brought a bit of light. My garden did not need that light nearly so much as Mrs. Bell’s front step.” Aunt Tess climbed down from the carriage and secured the horses. “I have a jug of water next to my package of cloth. Would you be so good as to pour it out on the boxes?”

  “Of course. I will do it straight away,” Lydia replied as she hurriedly scratched another note in her book.

  Be light.

  Chapter 14

  Marcus stopped just outside the door to his father’s drawing room. He had been at his desk when Aunt Tess and Lydia had arrived and had wished to leave his papers and make his way to this room as soon as he had seen the horses stop, but he had not. His brother’s words concerning his need to decide if he would give Lydia to another to protect or take on the task himself had held Marcus in his chair. He was determined to attempt to view her just as another lady making a call on his father, which she would be should she marry another. He would sit and work his numbers and be at ease knowing that his father was entertained.

  It had, however, proven to be an exercise in futility. Marcus had added and check the same row of numbers three times and gotten a different answer on each attempt. Not thinking of Lydia when he knew her to be there was difficult, but not thinking of her while hearing her laugh was more than he could endure, and so, he had finally closed his books and taken himself down the hall to his father’s room.

  “And this one can move here?”

  His father had left the door open just a bit, and Marcus could see Lydia sliding a chess piece across the board.

  “Ah, you are a quick study.” It was funny how the pride in his father’s voice was echoed in his own heart.

  “Oh, yes,” said Lydia, tilting her head and looking at the board with her brows furrowed. “I have a very good memory.”

  Marcus smiled and shook his head. To anyone else, her comments would sound boastful, but to him, they were not. She was merely stating a fact. He watched her select a knight, her fingers resting lightly on its head as she tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought. It was an enchanting expression.

  “This one hops, does it not?” she asked, after a moment.

  “Yes,” replied his father, grinning widely. “It jumps just like a real horse might when it comes to a hedge or gate, but in which direction?”

  Lydia pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth and moved the piece ahead two and to the right one. She was just about to remove her finger from the top of the horse’s head when her eyes widened, and her lips formed an o before sliding into a smile. “That was a trick question,” she accused p
layfully. “The knight can move in any direction it chooses as long as it follows the pattern of two and one or one and two.”

  Mr. Dobney clapped his hands in delight. “You know them all, and with just one lesson. Well done, Miss Lydia. Well done. We shall have to play a game next time you call.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice just a bit. “Do you suppose Aunt Tess will allow it?”

  Lydia returned his smile and darted a look at Aunt Tess. “I shall ask, but I have so many things to learn that I cannot guarantee it.”

  He patted her hand which lay on the table next to the chessboard. “I shall talk to her. A day spent with my housekeeper might be well-worth your while. You did say you are learning to be a mistress of an estate, did you not?”

  Lydia nodded.

  “So it seems a fitting lesson.” He winked. “And then I can instruct Mrs. Yardley that you will need to spend an hour or so with me.”

  “What are you planning?” asked Aunt Tess with a laugh.

  Marcus watched as Lydia excitedly told Aunt Tess about the plan to spend the day at Aldwood Abbey learning from Mrs. Yardley. Her smile was mesmerizing.

  “What are you watching?”

  Marcus jumped at the sound of his sister’s voice.

  “Nothing,” he answered far too quickly as heat crept up his neck at being discovered watching Lydia.

  Mary Ellen folded her arms and raised a brow in disbelief. “Nothing?” she repeated. “Is the room empty?”

  Marcus shrugged.

  A smile spread across Mary Ellen’s face as she heard what sounded very much like a squeal of delight from beyond the door. She tucked her arm through his. “I believe that is something or more accurately, someone. Come along, Brother,” she said, pushing the door open and drawing him into the room with her.

  “You sound happy, Miss Lydia,” Mary Ellen said as she pulled her brother across the room with her to take a seat near Aunt Tess.

  “Oh, I am.”

  Marcus glanced at her quickly before averting his eyes. She was indeed happy from the expression on her face.

  “Miss Lydia is going to spend a full day at Aldwood Abbey to learn the duties of a housekeeper,” Mr. Dobney supplied the explanation of his guest’s delight.

  “She is not coming so that you might secure a partner for chess?” asked Marcus with a grin as he took his seat.

  Lydia’s smile faded somewhat, and she cast a worried look at Aunt Tess.

  It was not the reply Marcus had expected, and for a moment, he considered taking himself back to his study. Perhaps, she did need someone else. Coming in here was a mistake. He could not think clearly with her there in front of him. How was he to make a decision about whether he should be the one to marry her or not when she drove all rational thought from his head?

  He had been battling that question of whether or not to offer for Lydia for a full day now. He was certain his horse had not appreciated the slow meandering walk they had taken this morning instead of the fast gallop as was his normal habit. He had over poured his cup of tea at breakfast and paced rings around his office. Accounts were not adding up, and he had spent far too many hours staring blankly at the chair in front of his desk, trying not to imagine her there. And his pillow had suffered a great deal of abuse as he had attempted to find a comfortable sleeping position last night — one that would allow him to close his eyes without seeing her. If he were to be honest, his whole world seemed to be at sixes and sevens since his annoying brother and Mr. Williams had cornered him with their suggestion.

  “My boy knows how desperate I am for a good game,” said Mr. Dobney.

  Aunt Tess laughed. “I feared I might not get away so quickly as I had planned when you brought out your pieces, for I know how much you love to play. I should hope that while Miss Lydia is here, she will be allowed to be of service to you in such a fashion. A mistress’ life is not all duty. There must be time for enjoyment as well.”

  Lydia’s smile grew again, and Marcus’s mind felt more at ease. He settled a bit more comfortably into his chair but kept his eyes from resting for any extended period of time on Lydia’s lovely face or figure.

  They spent a few more minutes in conversation about the estate and the calls that had been made earlier that day, and then, when Aunt Tess stood, Lydia followed suit.

  “We have one more call to make before we return home,” Aunt Tess explained.

  “I have had a lovely time,” said Lydia, extending her hand to Mr. Dobney. “I have always wished to learn about chess.”

  He took her hand and held it between both of his. “It has been a pleasure, Miss Lydia. You were a very capable student.” He squeezed her hand tightly and then let it go. “I will arrange a day with Mrs. Yardley and send word.” Then, he turned to Marcus. “Do not scurry back to your desk. See our guests to their carriage.”

  “Yes, sir,” Marcus said with a chuckle. “I promise; I was not going to scurry anywhere.” He moved to extend an arm to Aunt Tess, but his sister had already claimed it. “Miss Lydia,” he said instead, offering her his arm. She hesitated and then placed her hand very lightly on his arm. There was something that was not right in her responses today. Had they told her of the list? Did she know that his name was on it and did not wish to encourage his suit? The thought made him scowl.

  ~*~*~

  Lydia let out an exasperated huff as the gig moved away from Aldwood Abbey. Marcus had seen them arrive and not joined them for tea — she knew he had seen them, for she had seen him at the window. Then, when he finally did join them, he had nearly ruined her planned day with his father, and he only spoke of trivial things while, just like yesterday, looking everywhere in the room but at her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she drew a quick deep breath as the reason for his avoidance became clear. He knew she must marry, and now he avoided her presence. There was only one reason. She placed a hand on Aunt Tess’s arm. “He does not want me.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “I am not good enough.” The pain of the thought pinched her throat making the words difficult to form.

  Aunt Tess drew the gig on the side of the road and stopped. “Whatever makes you say that?”

  Lydia shrugged. “He is no different from every other gentleman I have met. They flirt. They tease. They tell you they like your hair and your eyes, and then, when someone,” she sighed deeply to cover a sob that wished to be released, “usually my mother, mentions anything that might sound like marriage, I am no longer their favourite. I am no more than a passing entertainment.” She clenched her teeth and drew in a breath through her nose to steady her nerves before she continued. “They think me silly and stupid, but I am not.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Aunt Tess wrapped an arm around Lydia’s shoulders, “I am certain Marcus thinks you neither silly nor stupid.”

  Lydia lifted one shoulder in a sad half shrug. “It matters not. I am not what he wants.” Tears filled her eyes. She had thought him interested in her. He had looked at her as if he wished to kiss her. He had pulled at his neckcloth. She had been so certain he might like her. He had even acted the part of a friend. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she drew a shuddering breath, willing her tears not to fall and her sorrow to be gone, but neither would listen.

  She had thought him different from all the others, but he was not. He only wished for a kiss just like they did. She swiped at another tear that made its escape and rolled down her cheek. Well, he, like the others, would do without. Only her husband would get her kisses. She was pretty and, therefore, her kisses were more valuable than most. They would not be given away!

  Aunt Tess watched the softness leave Lydia’s features, and her heart ached but not nearly so much as she suspected Lydia’s did.

  Lydia pulled her lips into a smile as she wiped the remaining tears away from her eyes. She would not allow her heart to break for him. She would not. She straightened her shoulders. “Are there other gentlemen in the area who might wish a silly wife?” There was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

  “You will no
t be a silly wife. You will be a fine mistress of a grand estate.”

  Lydia shook her head and wiped at her eyes again. Those tears were determined to make her eyes red and her nose swollen.

  Aunt Tess patted Lydia’s knee and called to Maggie to resume their journey. “Shall we return home?”

  “No.” Lydia lifted her chin. She could feign happiness. It was not the first time she had done so when she would have rather cried. “We have a duty to do.”

  Aunt Tess cast a sidelong glance at Lydia. The girl did seem determined. Perhaps a visit to the Ross’s would be just the thing. “Are you prepared to read to the little ones again?”

  “I am,” Lydia replied with a nod. “I enjoy it.”

  And she did enjoy it. All three stories were read to the Ross’s three young children as Aunt Tess talked with their mama about how she was faring and what still needed to be done before the arrival of child number four. Then, with three little people to escort their new friend, Miss Lydia, to her carriage, the ladies said their farewells and returned to Kympton.

  Chapter 15

  That night, after a sullen evening, Marcus spent two hours wrestling his pillow and his thoughts before he gave up trying to sleep and lit a candle. Pulling on his robe, he paced the length of his room for a few minutes, hoping the movement would distract him and weary his body enough to accept sleep.

  He stopped at the window and looked out toward his mother’s cottage. The moon was still about half its fullness, so he could see the shadows of the stand of trees that signalled the edge of the cottage garden. He smiled sadly as he remembered finding Lydia in the sitting room, curled up in a chair, attempting to not be seen. She had been a disheveled, defiant mess. He chuckled at how she had attempted to thwart his attempts to return her to her family.

  He sank down on the window seat. Somewhere between that cottage and Willow Hall, she had wormed her way into his heart — never, he feared, to be removed. He blew out a breath, clapped his hands on his thighs, and pushed up from his seat.