Chapter 1 #2
“When has that ever not been the case?” Edmund replied, and they both laughed. Lord Harry then caught himself and offered an apologetic look towards Lydia.
“I apologize, Lady Lydia. Please don’t think me a cad for speaking about my brother like that. I assure you that I am fond of him,” he said.
“She is no stranger to having an irritating older brother,” Edmund said with a twinkle in his eye. “In fact, it’s something you have in common.”
“I understand that is not the only thing that binds us; after all, Edmund has mentioned you in conversation before. He tells me that you like reading. Do you have a favorite book?” Lord Harry asked, turning his full attention to Lydia.
“I have many, but I believe my favorite story will always be Romeo & Juliet. It is magnificent whether performed or read.”
“I quite agree although I would never have assumed that such a gentle creature as yourself would be inclined to like a story with a dark ending,” Lord Harry said. The easy compliments made Lydia blush.
“Even though their story ended in tragedy, they still found each other for a short time, and they were able to enjoy true love. I believe that even if it was fleeting, it was still worth it,” Lydia replied.
A strange look came over Lord Harry’s face. The smile faded a little, and his eyes shone with emotion.
“Yes… yes that is an astute observation. If you will excuse me, there is some business to which I must attend. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Lydia, and I hope that I get to spend some more time with you later in the evening,” he said, bowing to Lydia and then to Edmund before striding away.
“Well, what do you think?” Edmund asked as Lord Harry disappeared into the crowd.
“I think that he is handsome and charming,” Lydia replied.
“So you like him?” Edmund leaned back, smiling proudly with his hands resting on his hips.
“No,” Lydia said. The smile fell from Edmund’s face.
“No?”
“I don’t mean this as an insult, but he reminds me of you.”
“And how am I supposed to take that if not as an insult?” Edmund furrowed his brow.
“I just mean that his manner reminds me of the way you used to speak to people in whom you held little interest. You spoke for your own amusement, acting charming because it came easily to you. The words were rehearsed, and you said similar things to many different women. There was no substance behind them.”
“I see,” Edmund said in a wary tone. “I fear you have been reading too many books, Lydia. There is such a thing as analyzing the world too deeply. He might just be a pleasant man.”
“He might, but he is not the man for me,” Lydia replied.
Edmund’s lips parted. Lydia anticipated his question, sensing that he was going to ask her how she knew this for a fact.
“When I meet the right man, I will know it as soon as our eyes meet. I will know it in here,” she said, pressing her finger into the middle of her chest.
Edmund stroked his chin and rolled his shoulders.
“Very well,” he sighed. “I suppose you tried at least.”
They returned to Agatha and Rose although to their surprise, Rose was sitting by herself.
“Where is Grandmother?” Edmund asked.
Rose lifted her gaze to the ceiling for a moment. “I am not sure. She said something about wanting to stretch her legs. I said she should wait for your return, but she muttered that she was too old to be told what to do. I am sorry for being unable to stop her.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” Edmund said. “She is like an old mule sometimes.”
“Edmund, you shouldn’t speak about her like that,” Lydia scolded, aghast.
“Don’t pretend like the same thought hasn’t occurred to you,” Edmund said. Lydia clamped her mouth shut and did not say a word in reply. There was some truth to what Edmund said, and it brought Lydia great shame.
“How was your meeting?” Rose said.
“It was fine although he is not the one for me,” Lydia said. Edmund turned, craning his neck over the crowd to see if he could spot Agatha.
“Now where are you? I hope you’re not going to cause any trouble,” he muttered.
Rose clasped Lydia’s arm and leaned into her, whispering.
“There is no chance he could be the one?” she asked.
“No, not him.”
“Lydia… I have been patient with you, but I feel as though I must speak about a certain matter again. I fear that you want a storybook romance so fiercely that you are missing opportunities to have something real. I do not mean to lecture you, but I don’t want you to keep holding out for something that may never happen. ”
“It will happen,” Lydia said in a terse tone. “I know how I want to feel. I know what love will feel like. I have seen it often enough, and I thought that you would understand more than others.”
“I do Lydia, and that’s why I’m worried. I’ve seen you turn away so many appropriate suitors, and I just fear that nobody can live up to the idea of love that you have created in your mind. Stories are imagined, and that gives them a quality that cannot exist in real life.”
“It exists for you and for Charlotte. Why not for me?” Lydia challenged.
Rose softened and fell silent, unable to counter Lydia’s point. This was an argument the two of them had often. Lydia found it frustrating although she could not be angry with Rose for raising the point because she knew that hear dearest friend was only expressing her concern.
There were moments when Lydia wondered if she was going to have to exhaust every eligible man in London before she found her perfect match, but that was something she was willing to do if necessary.
However, there was a nagging doubt at the back of her mind, a question that she assumed crossed her family’s mind as well.
What if she didn’t meet the right man in all of London?
Lydia tried not to think about this because it filled her with dread and because she believed that true love would win out, but it was the nature of a reasonable mind to doubt.
“I shall go and search for Grandmother,” Lydia declared, not wishing to speak about her romantic prospects any longer.
She strode away before Edmund could call her back and did not care too much that she was without a chaperone as she feared that Agatha might wander into trouble.
Once she found Agatha, she would have a chaperone anyway, and nobody could begrudge her seeking her grandmother.
She politely asked other guests. One of them said they had seen an older woman heading out of the ballroom into a side corridor.
Lydia ventured away from the party. The susurrating sounds faded as did the warmth created by so many people located in one place.
Servants milled about. Lydia questioned a few of them, and one mentioned that he’d seen a woman bearing Agatha’s description heading towards the guest room.
Lydia wondered if Agatha had grown weary and sought a place to rest. She did not have the same stamina for these events as she used to. Still, it wasn’t enough to quell Lydia’s anxiety.
Lydia tiptoed up the stairs and was faced with a hallway containing many doors.
She gulped, knowing that strictly speaking she was not supposed to be here.
Agatha might not have cared about such rules, but Lydia did.
There was an uncomfortable tension prickling upon her skin as she nimbly darted from room to room.
“Grandmother, where are you?” she hissed, hoping that Agatha might provide one hint. She knocked tentatively at doors and was relieved that she did not interrupt any strangers although she could not find Agatha.
Then, through one door, she heard a soft gurgling sound and wondered if she was right, and Agatha had fallen asleep. Lydia put on her sternest expression and flung open the door, but the scolding words that were ready to leave her lips died in her throat.
An astonished look came upon her face because in the middle of the expansive bed was a baby, innocent and lost, wrapped in a blanket. Lydia twisted her neck around, but there was no sign of a mother.
Then, the baby started to cry.