Lydia made an emphatic gesture that nearly upset their little makeshift coffee table. “I am not going to ask your brother for money. That’s what got me into this whole mess, and I was not even the one foolish enough to ask him!”
“I give up! The two of you are stubborn as rocks. There is no getting through to either of you.” Cora stood up and shook her head. “But please, promise me you will at least ask me for help. I’m not going to have you freezing to death just because my brother is being an ass.”
Could you love an ass?Apparently, she could, but what happened when the ass refused to love you back?We will out stubborn one another.The memory twisted like a knife in her chest, and she pushed it away.
Cora hugged her and left. The door swung shut, and the shadows returned. Lydia stared out of the window and wondered if her heart would ever feel whole again.
Just come home.
“I can’t Cora. I will not go where I am not wanted,” she murmured to the drifting snow.
The next day, Lydia’s sitting room was darkened by the afternoon’s vivacious, condensed storm cloud. If it had been warmer, it would have turned into thunder and lightning, but so far nothing had materialized. The snow from the last few days had settled across the landscape, adding another kind of silence that seemed to seep through not just her house but the whole county.
Lydia squirmed in her new armchair, facing the snowy landscape, trying to fight off the restlessness in her legs.
“How pleasant,” Lydia spoke to the silence. She was still not used to how quiet the cottage was since she had grown used to the hustle and bustle of living with Archer and his family. “I am going to get used to it.”
Her voice echoed around her room, and she winced. The fire was dwindling in the grate, and she debated lighting it again, but before she could rouse herself from her chair, Dotty appeared.
“Oh dear, the fire is nearly out Your Grace.” Dotty smiled amiably at her. “We can’t have that now, can we?”
“Don’t bother, Dotty. I think I am going to go for a walk.”
“I don’t like the look of those clouds Your Grace. Perhaps it would be best if you waited a little longer. If you get caught in the snow, you’ll be soaked in minutes. Much better to take a carriage or something, but His Grace has given the driver the day off—his daughter is getting married though I can’t say I think much of her husband?—”
Lydia held up a hand, deciding she wasn’t in the mood for Dotty’s usual whittering. “Then it is a good thing that I know how to drive a carriage.”
“But I thought you didn’t know how to ride.”
“I don’t but a carriage… now that I do know how to do. And if I take something light like the Phaeton…”
“The Phaeton! Your Grace, I know you have an odd sense of humour, but that is not a funny joke.”
“It’s not a joke.” Lydia grabbed one of the coats from the hook and an extra thick scarf along with some gloves and a wooly hat and left before her maid could say another word.
She strode up to the stables, a reckless energy lending speed to her steps.
“Prep the phaeton,” Lydia announced to the stable hands. Two boys had been lazily resting in the hay next to an old crate that held their game of cards, daily wages, and booze.
“The Phaeton, I trust you know how to do that.” She smiled sweetly at them as the boys gaped at her. Clearly, they had not been expecting company.
“But Your Grace, the weather. These are treacherous driving conditions. And there isn’t even a driver to help you,” the youngest one said, twirling his hat.
“I don’t think it is a good idea,” the tallest one added but was cut off by a loud bang from the hayloft. The smell of lightly fermenting fruit drifted to them.
“It smells to me like the pair of you have been doing things you really ought not to be doing. Not when you are supposed to be working.” Lydia gave them both a look. “Now, it would be a real shame if the Duke learned of what was going on. He is nowhere near as forgiving as me.”
“But—” the younger one began before the older elbowed him in the ribs. “We’ll get it ready for you, Your Grace.
Like they had been doing it all their lives, they quickly had the carriage out and latched onto a horse within minutes.
“You know how to handle them, Your Grace?” the short lad asked, placing the reins in her hands. “Don’t pull too hard, don’t snap the reins without warning, and always have a firm grip. If Jezabell gets spooked by a rabbit or snake on the road, it’s your job to guide her along.”
“Yes,” Lydia said confidently, gently prodding the horse forward with a swish of the reins. “I have it well in hand. You needn’t worry.”
The carriage trundled along wonderfully, and Lydia was rather enjoying the feel of the icy wind on her face when she noticed that the boys had left an odd shaped bundle covered by a sheet in the back of the Phaeton.
“What the?” Lydia pulled gently on the reins, stopping Jezabell as she went to lift the sheet.
