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Chapter Twenty-Five
As they arrived back to their townhome, Lydia sat rigidly in her seat in the carriage. She dared not hope that she could escape to her bed. In fact, as they pulled up to the front door, mother and the girls arrived in the second carriage. With a quick pace, she shepherded them all inside.
“Not a single one of you change just yet,” her mother said. “We may be in for a long night.”
“What should we do?” Trinity asked, her eyes wide with fear.
“Nothing just yet,” her mother answered. “Just go to the drawing room.”
Silent and reserved, they filtered into the drawing room. Martha called for tea and coffee for everyone as the girls found seats, clustered together with stiff backs. Lydia thought they might cast glares at her, angry at her for causing the situation, but instead, they just looked afraid. Her heart sank, realizing how she had let them all down.
Uncle Francis was the only one to appear perturbed still, though he said nothing as their mother took command of the room. “Lydia, tell us more about any potential suitors you have had through the Season. Girls, if you have anything to add, please speak freely. We need everyone’s insight.”
“The two most recent are Lord Wycliff and Mr. Ashcroft,” Lydia explained. “I know I’m not in any situation to be choosy. Lord Wycliff seemed the most interested, but Mr. Ashcroft is much more pleasant.”
“We must pursue both in parallel. Trinity, fetch some paper, we must send out notes at once. I saw Lord Wycliff at the duchess’s ball, but Mr. Ashcroft I did not,” Martha said.
Trinity got up to fetch the paper as they heard the butler answer the front door.
“Who in good heavens could that be?” Uncle Francis said, stepping towards the parlor door. As he reached for the handle, the door flew open.
Lydia and her sisters all gasped audibly, seeing Michael step through the door, his cheeks flushed and lungs heaving. His eyes settled on Lydia immediately and he strode up to her quickly. Lydia, her mother, and sisters all stood to curtsy.
“Lydia, this is most untoward, but I must speak with you privately,” he demanded, breathlessly.
“If you think that you can have one minute alone with my niece after you have ruined her reputation, you can think again-” Francis shouted, until Michael cut him off, spinning around to face him.
“I would suggest you think twice to raise your voice at me,” he threatened. “I am not in the mood to be trifled with at the moment, given everything that is going on. I have no desire for Lady Lydia’s reputation to be ruined, which is why I strongly suggest you leave the room as I have asked. At once.”
Martha seemed to grasp the situation immediately and reached towards the girls. “Come, now. All of you. A moment, please.”
Lydia stayed rooted firmly in place where she had stood, confused at what was going on. Her sisters vacated the room, throwing glances over their shoulders with faces filled with the same confusion she felt, whispering amongst them. When the drawing room door closed behind them all, Michael faced her again. He looked down to his shoes briefly.
Seeing him again for the first time since their argument, Lydia felt a surge of emotions flood through her. She wanted to reach out to him, to seek comfort in her troubled situation. Yet, she held back, remembering how he had been ready to give her up, to help her marry someone else. He seemed to struggle to speak, so she broke the silence.
“If ever you hoped to help me marry, now is the time,” she whispered, barely holding back tears again. “If there was anyone you thought you had influence over, I would ask your assistance. I must marry by tomorrow, else I, and my sisters, will be utterly ruined.”
“I will not give you that assistance,” he said, shaking his head adamantly. Lydia’s heart fell from her chest in horror. She was ready to shout at him, curse at him, as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, stopping her before she could speak.
“Lydia, I’ve been to the archbishop,” he said, handing her the paper. “This is a license for us to wed.”
The anger and fear fell away from her body, the tension inside her washing away. She reached out slowly to take the paper. Her hands shook as she unfolded it, seeing the certificate on the inside. Their names had been written on it.
“Is this your proposal?” she asked breathlessly, looking up at him with tearful eyes.
He stepped forward, dropping to one knee before her. “Lydia, my darling. I know this is all untoward, very unusual. I never thought I would marry at all, so I have no idea what I should do regarding a proposal. But I know I would not have you ruined. I could not bear to see you outcast and ostracized by society. I could not stand to see you married to another man, let alone one you did not love, or did not deserve you. Please, say you will be my wife.”
“What about your vow?” she asked, stunned.
“I do not care of it now,” he said, shaking his head. “I would have you as my wife. I have not thought of children. We can figure it out, discuss it later. Just tell me, Lydia, would you have me as your husband, whatever may come?”
Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she looked down at him as he watched her with earnest. His hopeful expression reassured her.
“You really want to marry me?” she asked. “If I had not been exposed, though, you would have broken off the engagement. Would you truly be happy?”
“I’ve been a fool, Lydia,” he assured her. “I have been so stubborn, so relentless. I should have agreed to marry you weeks ago, instead of holding on to this foolish vow I’ve made.”
Believing him, she nodded slowly, before bursting into relieved tears. “Yes, Michael. Yes, I will marry you.”
