Chapter Fifty‑Two
Chapter Fifty-Two
The immaculate, sensible “Miss Taylor” Sally had spent the past two days praising — the woman she had confided in about her family’s supposed collapse — was the very same Lydia she had dismissed as an opportunistic local intruder.
Before Sally could respond, the scullery door opened and Richard stepped inside, apparently having followed her across from The Gables. He stopped when he saw his wife’s expression.
Lydia remained by the kitchen island, her cheeks warm with barely contained amusement. She kept her posture composed, watching William as his carefully controlled expression finally gave way. A quiet, genuine laugh escaped him as he stepped forward.
“You were right about Lydia, Sally,” William said, his voice steady. “She is remarkable. And I would very much like to take her out tonight — if she still wants to go.”
The silence stretched. Sally’s throat worked once, her gaze flicking between Lydia and William as though the room had tilted beneath her feet.
“Lydia,” she managed, the name emerging thin and unsteady. “You… are Lydia?”
“I am, Mrs Vance. Miss Lydia Taylor.” A hint of amusement touched her voice. “I probably should have explained sooner.”
Sally’s breath caught. Lydia could almost see the morning’s comments replaying behind her eyes — every remark about disorder, weakness, and some woman worming her way into William’s routine.
She turned instinctively toward Richard, but he simply cleared his throat and looked down at the floorboards, unwilling to intervene.
Then something shifted. The shock in Sally’s expression flickered, reshaping itself with startling speed.
Her sharp mind began assembling the new reality: Lydia wasn’t the unknown threat she’d imagined — she was the very same competent proprietor Sally had admired so wholeheartedly.
Satisfaction swept through her features like a rising tide.
She straightened, smoothing her skirt with brisk purpose, her embarrassment vanishing as though it had never existed. A radiant, triumphant smile broke across her face.
“Well,” Sally declared, her voice ringing with delighted authority, “exactly. I knew it all along. I told you over breakfast, Richard, that everything would fall into place. It was my idea from the beginning. Miss Taylor — Lydia — is perfect for William.”
Lydia’s eyes widened, a soft laugh catching in her throat as she glanced at William. Sally’s ability to rewrite the entire narrative in under ten seconds was astonishing.
Richard stared at his wife, his mouth parting in disbelief, but Sally was already clapping her hands once, reclaiming the room with brisk efficiency.
“We are more than happy to babysit tonight,” she announced. “In fact, we insist. Richard, go through to the sitting room. William, make sure everything is arranged. Lydia, dear, you can leave the children entirely to us.”
William’s expression was warm and unguarded now that the truth was out.
“I’ll meet you by the iron gate at six,” he said, meeting Lydia’s eyes.
“I’ll be ready,” Lydia replied.
She offered Sally a polite nod before stepping out through the scullery door into the bright afternoon. The iron gate clicked shut behind her as she followed the path towards The Gables, the warmth of the summer day settling around her like a steadying embrace.
Through the hedge, she could still hear Sally’s voice drifting from the open kitchen window, already directing Richard towards the tea caddy. Lydia laughed under her breath, her chest lifting with a quiet, grounded peace.