Chapter Nineteen
“And that’s about it, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I’ve given it a great deal of thought and I believe my mind is made up. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but I think it’s the right one, given the circumstances. May I ask what you think of it all?”
Bessie sat back in her chair and studied the uncertain expression on Miss Page’s face.
Seated on the other side of the desk, the girl had arrived, unscheduled, at the Lyon’s Den a half hour since.
Though she hadn’t asked for it in so many words, she was obviously in need of Bessie’s approval.
An affirmation that what she had just declared made sense and was justified, in some way.
And, Bessie silently admitted, it did make sense.
On the surface, at least. But it would never fully heal what lingered behind Lydia’s hopeful facade: a broken heart and a wounded soul.
Bessie knew that traveling across the ocean was not the cure for Miss Page’s anguish.
And, despite his obvious love for the girl, neither was Bertram Truscott.
They were merely distractions that would grant Miss Page some respite from her despair.
Given time, she would likely settle into a comfortable existence.
She would tell herself she was happy and would count her blessings.
But, deep down, there would always be questions left unanswered, needs not met, and dreams unfulfilled.
Always.
It would take a specific kind of love to cure what ailed Lydia Page.
A love that reconciled heart and soul, answered all questions, met all needs, and made dreams come true.
A love such as this was rare indeed. Bessie, however, was fairly certain she knew where it resided.
Trouble was, Lord Pendlewood remained intent on denying it, and Bessie couldn’t begin to understand why.
His tale of being pressured by his peers rang utterly false.
Intelligent men like Pendlewood, with minds of their own, did not blindly capitulate to the recommendations of others.
His real reason for casting Lydia Page aside, however, remained a mystery. But mysteries could be solved.
In her heart, Bessie longed to tell Miss Page to wait and see what else fate had in store, but couldn’t take it upon herself to do so. Instead, she was going to give the girl exactly what she was asking for.
Her blessing.
“Well, my dear, I must confess, I didn’t see this coming,” she said. “But what an adventure! I admire your courage, and I have no doubt you’ll find solace with Mr. Truscott. He’s obviously very fond of you.”
“Yes, he is,” Lydia replied, her smile a little less than convincing. “And, in fact, my departure from England may well be temporary, since he is considering coming back to England next year. Well, Scotland, actually.”
Bessie couldn’t resist asking. “Has he offered marriage, then?”
Lydia shook her head. “He has alluded to it, but I believe he understands that I am not of a mind to consider a proposal at the moment. Which is partly why I came to see you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I’m trying to imagine what Papa would think of all this, and I wonder if he would approve of my leaving under the circumstances. ”
“Your father would want only your happiness, my dear, and would undoubtedly support whatever decision you make,” Bessie replied. “Do you think you could be happy with Mr. Truscott as your husband?”
A frown came and went, followed by a nod. “I think I could be, yes,” Lydia replied. “Actually, I’m sure I would be. We do get along swimmingly.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” Bessie replied.
Chewing on her lip, Lydia nodded again. “Then I believe I am decided.”
“Well, you still have time to reconsider,” Bessie said. “And besides, ships sail both ways across the ocean, so you’re wise to keep your house and staff on standby, as it were. When is the Lydia Jane scheduled to depart?”
“At high tide next Tuesday morning at a most uncivilized hour. Shortly after six o’clock, I believe.” Lydia laughed, a nervous sound. “But should you wish to come and to see me off, the ship is moored at the East India Brunswick dock.”
Bessie chuckled. “I’m usually going to bed at that time. And, I must confess, I am not terribly comfortable with long farewells.”
“Neither am I, actually.” Lydia rose to her feet. “So, let us get this one over with, and then I shall leave you in peace.”
“My dear child.” Bessie moved around to the front of the desk and took Lydia’s hands in hers. “I wish you well, and pray you will find the happiness you deserve. And be sure to write!”
“I will, I promise.” Lydia, eyes bright with tears, pulled her hands free and hugged Bessie. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I’ll be eternally grateful for your kindness. God willing, I will see you again one day.”
“God willing,” Bessie replied, choking back tears of her own. “Farewell, my dear.”