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Chapter Twenty-One
When she realized that she would have to attend the Assembly at Almack’s, Lydia tried to argue against her appearance with her mother.
“Everyone thinks that I’m still in Marigold for the moment, why should I attend?”
“Once people find out that the duke is in town, and you did not attend the Assembly, you will be the subject of gossip,” her mother argued.
In her rooms at Rackliff, Martha had changed into her undress before she would need to get ready for the Assembly that night. Lydia had come up to implore her to not make her to go with her sisters that night. However, Lydia could read in her mood that her mother was in no mood for negotiations.
“Your request tells me that you let yourself get too attached to the duke, knowing that he would not have you. Tell me, Lydia, what liberties did you allow him while visiting Marigold?”
“Nothing!’ Lydia protested, then stammered, “Nothing that would ruin my virtue.”
“Hmm,” she responded, waving her fan. “I’m not sure I want to ask you to clarify that statement. Go work with your sisters to plan your outfits for the evening and allow me to have my rest. It takes incredible attention and fortitude for me to keep up with the five of you during these affairs. Trying to make sure you make a match or keep Marcia and Lucretia from embarrassing themselves or ruining their reputations. No, I need to shut my eyes for a moment before we leave.”
Lydia turned from the room, frustrated, and went back down to her own room. The four other girls had caused a whirlwind of chaos, with ribbons and lace strewn about the room, unworthy dresses discarded where they were removed, and shoes thrown about. Looking at the mess, Lydia shook her head.
“This is completely unacceptable,” she called out. With her darkened mood, she had no patience with her younger sisters. “How can any of you find what you are looking for in this disarray? Come now, at once, do not leave it to poor Mary and Abigail to pick up this sty.”
Only Trinity had the audacity to try to protest, but Lydia shook her head threateningly at her sister. “Not now,” she mouthed, then softened. “Please.”
Trinity sighed and nodded before bending down to pick up discarded shoes. Even Lydia pitched in, straightening ribbons. She even picked one up, telling the others, “I had hoped to wear this one tonight, so this effort should indeed be worthwhile.”
The others sulked during the effort, but once the room was back in order, Lydia helped each of them to pick out their dress and accessories in a more orderly manner, a process that helped her to relax at the thought of going to the Assembly. She tried to reframe her mind, telling herself that it was in her sisters’ best interest for her to advocate for them.
Once they were all dressed, standing together, helping to tie last minute bows or pin unruly curls, Lydia stopped for a moment, observing. She realized that it was possible these were some of the last few moments they had together as young women.
In just another two weeks, Johanna would be married. Trinity could follow after that. And while she had no prospects, as her mother painfully reminded her, she needed to be married herself in just a few weeks. Their childhood would be officially gone and each of them to their own homes, their own husbands. She felt a pang of jealousy for Marcia and Lucretia, with their Season of freedom, carefree for just a few more, short weeks.
“Are you ready?” Trinity asked, placing a gentle hand on Lydia’s shoulder.
“Yes,” she said, starting. “Yes, I’m ready.”
* * *
The Assembly was packed by the time they arrived. The heat of the warm summer evening pressing around them as heavy as the bodies in the room. Lydia felt like she was melting by the time she started mingling with the guests. She felt eyes on her, all around, whispers wondering why she had returned to London.
To her, it felt similar to that first Assembly after the announcement of her fake engagement to the duke, the aura of scandal mixed with supposed truths. She smiled to each person she pushed passed, dipping her head in greeting. Yet, no one stopped her. With her dance card in her hand, she headed to the seats on the far side of the room, where she would wait until a gentleman claimed a dance with her. Mr. Ashcroft was the first to approach her, ardent as he stepped forward.
“Lady Lydia, it is wonderful to see you again at the Assembly. We greatly missed your presence last week.”
“How dear of you to say,” she smiled.
“May I claim a dance with you?” he asked.
She handed over her card politely, watching as he scribbled his name. “I look forward to finding you later,” he said, bowing and dipping back.
Next, Wycliff, pushed off one of the dances he had hoped for at the last Assembly, found her.
“I had heard rumors of you being back tonight. You look lovely!” he said, reaching out his hand. She put her dance card into it, noticing that he claimed another two dances. Seeing his intention clearly, she looked up to study his face.
“I’m quite looking forward to our sets,” she said, taking the card back. “Perhaps you could sit with me for a moment? I would love to hear how you have been in my absence.”
“My apologies, my lady,” he said, bowing. “I must confess there are a few young ladies that I had hoped to claim sets with this evening.”
She smiled politely and watching him bow away.
Then, much to her surprise, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the familiar face of Michael, pressing his way through the crowd. Her breath caught in her throat, seeing him heading straight for her. The way her heart raced reminded her of the first Assembly after he had discovered her lie. She had not expected him to attend at all, not even considered that he would seek her out once he had arrived.
