Lydia

Unexpected Visitor

     I also found it perplexing that the painting of Lord Michael Wyatt was the last to be commissioned. The family estate appeared to be in good health, the gardens superbly managed, as my family had commented on numerous occasions when we've passed by. So why, then, were there no continuing generations present upon the walls?

     A scandalous thought struck me at that very moment. Perhaps, the reason for the missing heirs is due to disgrace. Perchance a wayward ancestor's wiles had been brought to light in society. Surely, if that had been the way if it, my family would have, in some way, been privy to that knowledge. Oh blast! It seems I've found the hole in the plot, I mused. No matter.  I'm sure I'll be abreast of the situation in some time."

     The paintings, or lack thereof, gave me something to contemplate as I continued down many more passages. I felt as though I had walked tirelessly for hours to no avail, and just as I was about to call my escape a hopeless act, I rounded a corner into a servant's kitchen. I could see a small window set in a door to the far right corner of the room. Hesitantly, I made my way to the door, peered out to see if anyone was about, and freed its latch. In another moment I was deeply inhaling the cool night air.

     With a full moon to guide my way I began the long journey home. I prayed the road would be vacant of nefarious persons, and, as luck would have it, fate deemed my course a worthy one and I found myself at home at the very approach of dawn. I stumbled into the garden and rested upon a stone bench letting the first tendrils of the sun's light warm my face.

     Time stood still then. I leaned back, gripping the side of the bench, and let the breeze catch in my curls. Footsteps could be heard on the gravel some time later. My eyes need not open to know who had come to visit me.

     "Morning Lilly," I said.

     "Good morning to you, too. You're awake early. What troubles you?" Lilly inquired. I opened my mouth to speak and abruptly closed it. There can be no truth told if I do not know it myself.

     I simply replied, "A dream, dear sister. A most perplexing and vivid dream."

     "Was it horrifying?" Lilly pressed, clearly not satisfied.

     "Not in the least. I dreamed I awoke in another place. The detail was quite remarkable. Grand paintings and fixtures adorning hall after hall as I tried to make my way out of that place. As captivating as the decor was I still felt trapped within a labrynth."

     "Sounds dreadfully confusing," murmured Lilly.

     "Quite." I replied.

     Lilly had come to share the bench with me. We sat in a comfortable silence for a while longer.

     "Lilly," I asked.

     "Yes, Lydia?"

     "Why are you up with the sun this morning as well," I turned to look at her.

     "Quite simple really. I felt something amiss with you. 'Twas rather persistent, I must say. Seeking you out, and hearing of your bewildering dream, the feeling has abated." Lilly said and smiled. Our connection had always been undeniable. We knew one another, heart and soul, no matter the distance.

     Once, some years ago, our aunt, Lady Caroline, and her husband, Lord Francis Worthington, had offered to take us girls along on their journey to Paris and Rome. We were to make the acquaintance of many families in the hopes of striking up some type of longing in the future eligible bachelors we would meet - always thinking of affairs of the heart, our parents.

     The excitement was palpable from the moment we found out. I remember my cheeks hurt from smiling so much as we practiced dancing and how we would make our entrances. Our folly was contagious, even Mama and Papa joined our practice.