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Authors: Nicola Cornick
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marry him.”
“Mama is imagining things, as usual,” Alice said quickly. She did not want to have to tell anyone about the agreement between herself and Miles yet. They all knew her so well that none of them would believe she had agreed to marry him voluntarily. She had to think of a convincing excuse. Madness sprang to mind.
“You know that Mama wants me to marry a lord,” she said. “Which one is immaterial—and so she imagines that every man who calls is a potential husband.”
“Well, to be fair, most of them have called to press their suit,” Lydia said, “and you know how desperately she wishes you to be settled.” She came into the room and eased herself into the other armchair, sighing heavily as she sat down. “Oh, I am so tired these days! I swear I could sleep the whole day away.”
“At least you have a better color today,” Alice said approvingly. “I was very worried about you yesterday. Has your sickness improved?”
“No,” Lydia said. “I feel wretchedly ill morning, noon and night!”
Alice privately thought that a part of Lydia’s suffering might well be caused by the mental anguish of having loved Tom Fortune so dearly and having been so horribly disillusioned in him. He was another reckless gambler like Miles Vickery, an out-and-out rake and philanderer who had taken Lydia’s love and smashed it to pieces. He had seduced her, made her pregnant, abandoned her and wound up in prison for his criminal activities. Lydia never spoke of her feelings for Tom, and Alice did not push her into it. She knew that Lizzie sometimes tried to get Lydia to open up, but Lydia remained adamantly silent.
The other matter they never discussed was what would happen when the baby was born. Alice had every intention of making over to Lydia the house in Skipton that Lady Membury had left her, so that Lydia and the baby could have a secure future. She had already instructed her lawyer to draw up the papers and she hoped desperately that her betrothal to Miles could not alter the arrangement. Lydia had once been an heiress herself but it seemed unlikely that her parents, the current Duke and Duchess of Cole, would settle any money on their disgraced daughter now, so Alice thought it imperative that she should protect her friend.
Lydia lay back in her chair with a heartfelt sigh and closed her eyes. She was now well advanced into her fourth month of pregnancy, and her slight body looked swollen and a little ungainly already. Mrs. Lister had commented that Lydia was increasing at so great a rate that she might be carrying twins.
“I will go and make you some dry toast,” Alice said, getting up. “Lady Membury told me that when she wasincreasing she found it was the only thing she could manage to eat.”
Lydia waved a hand to stop her. “That would be kind—in a moment. I did not realize that Lady Membury had had any children,” she added. She looked at Alice, hesitation reflected in her eyes. “If she had children of her own, why did she leave her fortune to you, Alice?”
“Her daughter died and she had no other relatives,” Alice said. Her former employer’s eccentric decision to leave her vast fortune to her housemaid had caused uproar in the tight-knit local society. It had been a shock to Alice, too, but it was also understandable and deeply poignant for her. “You know that she had been a recluse for many years,” she said. “She had no family or friends and she had turned against the local vicar years ago, so there was no way in which she would choose to leave her money to the church.”
“I can see myself ending like that,” Lydia said, with a flash of bitterness. “Alone and with no one in the world…”
“No, you will not,” Alice said fiercely, grabbing her hand. “You have friends about you, and anyway, this baby of yours thrives and is strong. Perhaps when he or she is born your parents will relent—”
“God forbid,” Lydia said involuntarily, and they both burst
“Mama is imagining things, as usual,” Alice said quickly. She did not want to have to tell anyone about the agreement between herself and Miles yet. They all knew her so well that none of them would believe she had agreed to marry him voluntarily. She had to think of a convincing excuse. Madness sprang to mind.
“You know that Mama wants me to marry a lord,” she said. “Which one is immaterial—and so she imagines that every man who calls is a potential husband.”
“Well, to be fair, most of them have called to press their suit,” Lydia said, “and you know how desperately she wishes you to be settled.” She came into the room and eased herself into the other armchair, sighing heavily as she sat down. “Oh, I am so tired these days! I swear I could sleep the whole day away.”
“At least you have a better color today,” Alice said approvingly. “I was very worried about you yesterday. Has your sickness improved?”
“No,” Lydia said. “I feel wretchedly ill morning, noon and night!”
Alice privately thought that a part of Lydia’s suffering might well be caused by the mental anguish of having loved Tom Fortune so dearly and having been so horribly disillusioned in him. He was another reckless gambler like Miles Vickery, an out-and-out rake and philanderer who had taken Lydia’s love and smashed it to pieces. He had seduced her, made her pregnant, abandoned her and wound up in prison for his criminal activities. Lydia never spoke of her feelings for Tom, and Alice did not push her into it. She knew that Lizzie sometimes tried to get Lydia to open up, but Lydia remained adamantly silent.
The other matter they never discussed was what would happen when the baby was born. Alice had every intention of making over to Lydia the house in Skipton that Lady Membury had left her, so that Lydia and the baby could have a secure future. She had already instructed her lawyer to draw up the papers and she hoped desperately that her betrothal to Miles could not alter the arrangement. Lydia had once been an heiress herself but it seemed unlikely that her parents, the current Duke and Duchess of Cole, would settle any money on their disgraced daughter now, so Alice thought it imperative that she should protect her friend.
Lydia lay back in her chair with a heartfelt sigh and closed her eyes. She was now well advanced into her fourth month of pregnancy, and her slight body looked swollen and a little ungainly already. Mrs. Lister had commented that Lydia was increasing at so great a rate that she might be carrying twins.
“I will go and make you some dry toast,” Alice said, getting up. “Lady Membury told me that when she wasincreasing she found it was the only thing she could manage to eat.”
Lydia waved a hand to stop her. “That would be kind—in a moment. I did not realize that Lady Membury had had any children,” she added. She looked at Alice, hesitation reflected in her eyes. “If she had children of her own, why did she leave her fortune to you, Alice?”
“Her daughter died and she had no other relatives,” Alice said. Her former employer’s eccentric decision to leave her vast fortune to her housemaid had caused uproar in the tight-knit local society. It had been a shock to Alice, too, but it was also understandable and deeply poignant for her. “You know that she had been a recluse for many years,” she said. “She had no family or friends and she had turned against the local vicar years ago, so there was no way in which she would choose to leave her money to the church.”
“I can see myself ending like that,” Lydia said, with a flash of bitterness. “Alone and with no one in the world…”
“No, you will not,” Alice said fiercely, grabbing her hand. “You have friends about you, and anyway, this baby of yours thrives and is strong. Perhaps when he or she is born your parents will relent—”
“God forbid,” Lydia said involuntarily, and they both burst
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