Willow Hall Romance

by Leenie Brown

  He made one last omission from the list and, placing the pen on the desk, sat back in his chair. It had taken some fortitude to omit the last name, for a small flutter in the vicinity of his heart wished for the gentleman to succeed with Lydia.

  “You have made our task impossible.” Philip’s words were stern, but his expression was not. “You did not mention why the last man was unacceptable.”

  “He is too old, and she is too young.”

  Philip picked up the paper and motioned to his brother to lean forward. Then, he looked very carefully at Marcus’s face. “I am afraid you are wrong.” He picked up the pen and added Marcus’s name once again to the list.

  “I am not.”

  Philip nodded and pointed to the corner of his eye. “No lines. Therefore, not old.” He grinned. “Although not young either.”

  “I cannot marry her.” The words cut at his heart. “She is not ready to take on Aldwood Abbey.”

  Mr. Williams snorted. “She is not ready, or you are not?” He stood. “Your grandfather said the same about your mother when your father married.” His hand rested on Marcus’s shoulder. “And she did struggle at first, but ask anyone in your father’s employ: she rose to the challenge, just as I expect Miss Lydia would. She is quick enough to see a blackguard for what he is and cunning enough to bend him to her purposes. So, unless you can find a name to replace yours, you will have to accept one of the fellows you crossed off — or take on the responsibility yourself.” He gave Marcus’s shoulder a pat. “With you, she would, at least, be safe. Gentleman.” He bowed and took his leave.

  Philip rose. “I suppose my tea will be cold.”

  Marcus nodded and took up his hat. He really did not care if his brother’s tea was cold. In fact, if he had not promised to take tea with Aunt Tess, he would just go home. How could he face Lydia when his mind was in such a jumbled state. Marry her? See her married to another? Neither seemed an acceptable outcome.

  Philip reached for the doorknob but instead of opening the door, he turned toward his brother. “Let me tell you something I once told Darcy. The woman you marry may not be what or whom you expect her to be. I know; I never once considered Lucy as a bride until that day in the cemetery when she asked for my help in saving her from her uncle.” He sighed and shook his head slowly. “My marriage did not happen as I would have planned, but I am happy for it.” He pulled open the door. “God’s ways are not always our ways.”

  Philip followed his brother out of the room. “Miss Lydia must marry someone. If not you, then who? Who would you give her to?” He clapped his brother on the shoulder as they reached the door to the parsonage. “If you can stomach the idea of giving her to anyone, then your name should not be on our list. But if you cannot, then you will never be happy without her.”

  Chapter 12

  “Are you well?” Aunt Tess asked Lydia as they sat later that evening in the sitting room enjoying a cup of tea. “You have been very quiet, and I did not take you to be such a silent person. I hope I do not offend, but you rather seemed more lively than pensive when I met you. And until we were joined by the gentlemen for tea you were animated.” She took a sip of her tea. “I rather like animated ladies. There are far too many dull ones.”

  Lydia returned the smile Aunt Tess gave her. “It has been an odd day.” It had started out pleasant enough. Mr. Dobney had come to collect her as he had promised, and he had been charming on their drive here. And then? Well, she was not exactly certain what had happened, but suddenly, he was no longer charming. He was barely pleasant. She blinked against the unexpected sting of tears in her eyes.

  Aunt Tess placed her cup and saucer on the side table. “It is natural to feel out of sorts in a new home and to miss your family.”

  Lydia nodded. She did feel out of sorts, but she knew it was not from missing her family or being in a new home. She did not miss her family very much, at least not yet. Eventually, she would likely miss them more — especially Mama and Kitty — but not today. Today, she had begun a new adventure, and she enjoyed new adventures. So staying in a new home could not be the cause of her morose mood.

  Perhaps her odd feelings could be credited to the number of adventures she had had of late — there had been many. However, she suspected, it was more likely due to Marcus’s unusual behaviour when he came to tea. He had taken a seat near her but not the empty one next to her as she had expected, and he had not smiled very often. She sighed. And his eyes — his eyes had rarely fallen on her. They were everywhere else in the room, but not on her.

  If she was to make him wish to marry her — for she had thought on her father’s suggestion and deemed it a good one — he had to look at her. It was clearly her beauty that would persuade him — was that not what Mama had said?

  “Ah, Lydia, every man shall find it hard to resist your beauty,” she would say and then add with a wink, “but you must not allow anyone to claim it unless he is rich and handsome. To be tied to less with such beauty would be a travesty of the greatest sort. Promise me, you will not waste such looks on a man of average means and countenance.”

  Lydia had promised Mama each time. It made sense actually. Beauty should not be wasted. She sighed again. Mr. Dobney was neither average in standing or looks, and yet, he seemed perfectly capable of resisting her charms.

  Aunt Tess had returned to her tea. “That is a great deal of sighing.”

  Lydia’s eyes grew wide. She did not wish to offend Aunt Tess, for she did not wish for her stay in Kympton to be shortened any more than it already had been. Drat, that Wickham for choosing to be honorable. It was very unlike him! “I apologize. I had not meant to sigh, but today was so strange. I cannot make sense of it.”

  Aunt Tess’s head tipped to the side. “Perhaps if you tell me the parts that were odd, I might be able to help you discern them.”

  Lydia bit her lip and considered sharing her thoughts. She peeked up at Aunt Tess. The lady seemed nice enough, and Marcus had told her that Aunt Tess was to be trusted. Yet there was that niggling feeling in her stomach that made her waiver. She never let anyone hear her inner thoughts save Kitty, but Kitty was not here.

  “I promise I can be trusted,” said Aunt Tess with a smile.

  Lydia blinked. “Did I speak aloud?”

  “No.” Aunt Tess chuckled. “Your eyes are very expressive.”

  Lydia blinked again. Of course! Her eyes were very expressive. Many people had commented on that very thing. Although, her brows furrowed, she would have to guard them more closely if they were to be giving away secrets that she did not wish to be guessed.

  “You can tell me. I am a very poor gossip,” coaxed Aunt Tess once again.

  “You agreed I might stay with you until after Michaelmas?”

  “I did. I would not deprive Mr. Dobney of hosting a soiree. He has been too reclusive. It is not good, you know.”

  Lydia’s head bobbed up and down. “Solitude can be very taxing.”

  “For some,” agreed Aunt Tess with a smile. She imagined prolonged solitude for Lydia was akin to torture.

  Lydia’s lips pursed, and her brows drew together. “Is it truly my best option for marriage to look for a husband here?”

  Aunt Tess shrugged. “Unless your sister and Mr. Darcy would be willing to sponsor you for a season…” She did not finish the thought as Lydia’s expressive eyes had grown wide in horror at the mention of such a thing. “Then, yes.”

  Lydia would nearly rather be a spinster and wear a tight bun and dingy clothes than spend a whole season with a sister who would always be lecturing. Lydia sighed and shook her head as her shoulders lifted and lowered in a slight shrug. “But how am I to make a match if he will not look at me?”

  It was Aunt Tess’s turn to blink, but she was not blinking in surprise. She was confused.

  “He has an estate. He is mostly nice to me.” Lydia held up a finger as she ticked off all the reasons why Marcus was an acceptable choice. “He is not too old. He is handsome, and I am pretty
.” She lifted exasperated hands before folding her arms across her chest. “So why would he not look at me? He looked at me on the way here.” Lydia’s foot stomped lightly on the floor, and she huffed.

  “You mean Marcus?” Aunt Tess reigned in her smile so that it would not spread across her entire face. That Lydia preferred Marcus was excellent news, in her opinion. “You have set your cap at Marcus?”

  Lydia nodded. “Mr. Darcy is marrying my sister, and even if he were not, he smiles far too little. Colonel Fitzwilliam has lines near his eyes, so he is a bit too old. Captain Harris,” she lifted a brow, “he gossips.” She shook her head in disgust. “He would tell everyone everything. There would be no secrets. It is one thing about my mother that I wish I could change. There should always be some secrets.” She sighed. “And Mr. Bingley must marry Jane. They look so good together that it would be a sin for them not to marry. And I know no other eligible gentlemen.”

  “Well,” said Aunt Tess, who was no longer confused, but not exactly sure how to counsel a young lady with such interesting logic. However, she could see how Marcus had been charmed by it. There was something rather endearing about the girl…something that, once you got past the hardened outer shell, she, like him, wished to protect. “One poor meeting does not mean the end result must be tossed aside. He had just been told much of what you had. He was probably still processing the information.”

  Lydia looked thoughtful, so Aunt Tess continued, “Aldwood Abbey is a grand estate. Are you prepared to run it?” She smiled. “Your eyes tell me you do not believe you are, so where should we begin? Accounts? Care for tenants? Meal planning? Schedules?”

  Lydia sank back in her chair. Marrying a man with a large estate sounded like it might be more work than she expected.

  “Oh, do not give up,” said Aunt Tess. “You are clever and, I would guess, a keen learner when you wish to be.” She placed her empty teacup on the table. “Care for tenants. That is where we shall begin, for I believe it is an area in which you will excel. You have a kind heart.”

  Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “I do?” She had never been told that before. She was beautiful. Her hair was to be envied. Her eyes were unique. Her complexion could not be more perfect. She was neither too tall nor too short, nor was she too fat or too thin. Her figure was pleasing. These things she had been told — frequently. But never had she heard she had a kind heart. She felt it to be true, of course, but it is so hard to know if one is accurate in assumptions about one’s self unless it is confirmed by the words of another.

  “You do. It was you who insisted we not take a tour of Aldwood Abbey because we were there to see the master of the estate and not just his house. And then, you made him comfortable in the garden before you took a stroll through it yourself. And what of the soiree. It is not just for you to enjoy, is it?”

  Lydia shook her head. Yes, she would enjoy it, but Mr. Dobney and the rest of his family and staff would as well.

  “You see. You care for others, and it is a natural trait. Therefore, that is where we must start.” Aunt Tess stood and crossed the room to a shelf of books. “However, caring for tenants is tiring work, so take this book, The Mirror of the Graces. It is a guide on what a mistress of a grand estate should be. Read it for a short while and then go to sleep. Lack of sleep does nothing for the complexion, and red, tired eyes will do nothing to inspire a man to an attachment.”

  “Oh, you are so right,” said Lydia, accepting the book. She turned the book over in her hands. “I have seen Mary read this, but I did not know it was for becoming the mistress of an estate.” She flipped the pages. “I thought it was just for scolding. That is how Mary uses it.”

  Aunt Tess chuckled. “I assure you it is good for more than scolding. I have recently read it, and so has Lucy… and neither of us are terrible scolds…at least not often,” she added with a wink.

  Lydia hugged the book tightly to her chest. If this book could make her into a lady like Mrs. Barnes or Lucy, she would read it thrice over, even if it made her eyes water from boredom. “Thank you.”

  Aunt Tess opened her arms in invitation to Lydia. “I have not had Lucy to hug before bed in some time. I should very much like it if you would allow me the privilege of hugging you.”

  Lydia stepped into Aunt Tess’s embrace. How good such a small gesture felt!

  “I will call you early,” cautioned Aunt Tess. “A mistress does not lie abed all day. There is much for her to do.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Lydia with a small curtsey. “Sleep well,” she added before scooting out of the room and up the stairs.

  “Ah, Marcus,” Aunt Tess said to the empty room, “you will be happy.” She shook her head slowly and smiled. Lydia was wonderful. So full of life and potential. “So much like your mother, Marcus,” she again spoke to the empty room. “So very much like your mother.”

  She picked up the two discarded tea cups and went to find her housekeeper, who would likely be in her room off the kitchen at this time of the evening. There were a few parcels to make ready and a small lunch to be ordered in preparation for her outing with Lydia.

  Tomorrow, Lydia would find her abilities to entertain and help others would shine like the sun. And then, with a bit of confidence in those abilities built — for though the girl did not lack confidence in her looks or charms, there seemed to be a hesitance in accepting abilities beyond that — the teaching of any other skills would fall on more receptive ears.

  Chapter 13

  Lydia twisted her hair and pinned it as best she could. Turning her head from side to side and studying her reflection in the mirror, she decided it was not dreadfully done. One could still see the long curve of her neck and a few wisps around her ears softened the severity of the style. Though she looked presentably pretty, Lydia would be glad to have a maid once again after her stay with Aunt Tess was over. Margaret was so much better at styling Lydia’s hair and at caring for Lydia’s clothes than Lydia was herself.

  Lydia smoothed the bodice of her dress with a tug and looked over her shoulder into the mirror to see if everything was lying as it should. She had hoped that she might be allowed her maid since she was now merely a guest and not a servant, but Aunt Tess had thought it best to proceed as planned. Lydia was not quite certain she agreed with the reasoning. There seemed no need to demonstrate what life might be like as a servant. Lydia had already definitely decided that it would be horrid. She sighed. At least, she had been given assistance in dressing by one of the maids in Aunt Tess’s employ — reaching all your fastenings yourself was not an easy task.

  Aunt Tess tapped on the door and pushed it open. “Are you ready?”

  Lydia smoothed her skirts, put on her bonnet, and checked her reflection one last time. In her opinion, it was important that she look the part of a mistress even if she was not one yet. “I am.”

  Aunt Tess held the door open fully. “We shall have a quick cup of tea and then be on our way. I have asked Mrs. Graham to pack us a small lunch, and we shall eat it next to the stream near Aldwood Abbey. It will be too far a drive to come back for a meal.”

  “Will we stop to see Mr. Dobney?” Lydia asked as she descended the stairs behind Aunt Tess.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Aunt Tess turned and smiled at Lydia. “We will — although we will not have time for a tour. Perhaps a stroll in the garden or a chat in his particular room, but there is much to be done.” She motioned to the sitting room. “I always take my tea in here in the morning. The sun shines in just so.”

  As the rays of sun danced across the room to meet her, Lydia could immediately see why someone would enjoy this room in the morning. All was bright and cheery. One could not help but anticipate a day filled with pleasantness in such a room. She would have gladly stayed in that room until the sun had withdrawn the last tips of its fingers and moved over the peak of the house if she had been allowed. But she was not. They spent no more than a quarter hour eating a bit of toast and drinking a cup of tea before Aunt Tess had
called for her picnic lunch and inquired if the gig was ready, which it was.

  “Have you ever driven?” asked Aunt Tess, climbing into the carriage and arranging the ribbons in her hand.

  Lydia shook her head and swallowed. She hoped that she would not be expected to drive. Horses did not particularly like to go where she told them. She supposed it was because she could never remember which way to pull the reins. It would be much simpler if the animal would just go in the direction she pointed, but every time she tried that, the horse went the opposite way. Horses were very uncooperative creatures, and as such, she had decided that riding was not an activity she should like to do very often and that carriage driving was best left to a coachman — someone who had been trained in directing horses.

  “You should learn,” said Aunt Tess. “It is quite enjoyable to be so independent. If I could but manage the hitching and unhitching of the cattle myself, I would be able to go here and there whenever I wanted much more easily.” She flicked her hand and called to the horse — Maggie, as it was named — and with a squeak of a wheel, the gig began its journey.

  “Mrs. Bell, whom we will see first, is quite old, and her son is away on the continent,” Aunt Tess explained as they drove away from the house. “She had been staying with her brother, but he passed away just a little over a month ago. She has a servant who is unwilling to leave her, so she is not completely alone, but her income is so little, and her son so far away, that I have chosen her as my particular project.”

  Lydia watched in amazement as Aunt Tess slowed the gig and turned the horses onto a small lane to their left. Driving did not look so difficult when Aunt Tess did it. Perhaps one day, Lydia would try it, but not for some time.

  “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.”