I'd been in my room for the next three hours pacing about in a vain attempt to wrap my mind around the mystery that is Mr. Wyatt. My sisters and Mama came to my chambers after my outburst in the drive. I wouldn't dare open the door. Mama must have gone straight away to fetch Papa. His heavy footfalls echoed about the hall getting louder as they neared me. Mama was in a fit when he simply tried my door handle, and, discovering it locked, turned to her and said that they would obey my wishes for privacy. She huffed to herself and retreated down the hall.
As one set of footfalls faded Papa called out to me. "My dear Lydia, I do wonder what has put you in such a state, but I can see you are not ready to divulge your reasons as of yet. I will wait for you, help you in any way my child. However, I do respectfully request you tell me if you are quite all right. Knock once for yes, twice for no."
I came to the door in a hurry. Papa had always been a patient, understanding man. My hand rose to the door and softly I rapped once.
"I see. I shall retire to my study, Bean. If you wish to talk, come find me." With that I heard him also retreat down the hallway.
Knowing not where to start my inquiries, I sat at my vanity staring at my reflection. The earlier excitement finally taking its toll as my eyelids threatened to close. My body finally won out as my blue eyes did just that.
Darkness greeted me when I finally awoke. I made to stretch and knocked down a broom, the bristles scratched my feet in its descent. I let out a shriek and quickly covered my mouth. Where am I? Hesitantly, I put my hands out in front of me. Feeling uneasy, I moved about the tiny room. My foot found a small pail. It must have been for cleaning soot from a fireplace, the heady smell of ashes meeting my nose. Turning to my left I immediately bumped into a series of shelves. Another pail fell from the shelf I ran my forehead into and crashed. First into my shoulder, then continued to clatter about as I tried to capture the blasted item.
I dared not breath for a moment as I listened. How strange that there is absolutely no one about to witness the horrendous noises I've just made. Stranger still to think of how I came to be in this servant's closet.
I turned myself around once more and dusted off my sleeping dress. Pondering for a moment I found myself at a loss. This is definitely not my house! More determined to get out of this confounded room I marched forward. My foot caught the handle of the broom and I tripped. As I fell my hand found the handle of the door. I gripped the handle swinging my body in a downward arch as it opened.
Righting my feet I pulled myself to standing. I was in great need of a bath as I, again, attempted to dust off the soot. When it became apparent that my cleanliness was not to come, I glanced around the long hallway. Beautiful sconces adorned the walls between breathtaking landscapes. Following the hall to my right I took in every masterful scene.
I was admiring a pond scene with floating lilies when I heard a clock striking the hour. How could it be four in the morning? Walking further I came to another hallway, my choices being left or right. Sighing to myself I turned right. This hall had many windows, and portraits of those I assumed to be family. "Lord James Finewell," was the first painting. A robust man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and thin lips. He wore the fashions of a fourteenth century nobleman.
Wandering further down, taking in more names and appearances, I was startled to come across one "Lord Michael Wyatt." Not only did the name alert me to whose home I had mysteriously entered, but he bore a striking resemblance to the current Mr. Wyatt. He could have passed for a twin if not for the fact that Lord Wyatt had dark brown locks, and a long scar running from just above his left eye and down his cheek. Surprisingly, the blemish didn't detract from his looks. It gave him an air of masculinity, as if it enhanced his handsome features. His Elizabethan attire complimenting him as well.
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.
However, two days prior to our departure Lilly fell ill. Starting only with fatigue and chills, she insisted Deliah and I still depart, but write at every possible moment. Mama and Papa urged us to continue on as well. A week had passed and we had arrived in Paris. The city was beautiful, but I had written to Lilly twice during our journey already sending well wishes from Deliah, Aunt Caroline, Uncle Francis, and I, with nary a word from home.
Upon our third day in the lovely city I had a terrible feeling about my head for the better part of five days, and my thoughts drifted to Lilly every moment. I could no longer deny there was something terribly wrong with my sister. I convinced Aunt Caroline and Uncle Francis to send me home.
I did not tarry. I was home in two days' time, and came to find my Lilly pale as a ghost in her chambers, sick with fever. Staying by her side night and day Mama and Papa tried to shoo me away lest I contract the bloody fever myself. But tear away I could not.
Mama approached me one morning and said, "I'm happy you received our post and came home to comfort your sister."
"What post? I begged Aunt Caroline and Uncle Francis to send me home, Mama. I told them I could feel something was not right. I was plagued by a great feverish feeling, nausea, chills and the like since the second day following our departure. I knew Lilly was not well at all," I looked at Mama who had lost her coloring at my words. "Mama?"
"The second day you say?" Mama had taken to sitting in the chair beside Lilly's bed while she slept peacefully.
"Yes, what is the matter?" I was quite worried for my mother's state at that moment.
Looking me in the eyes she said, "My dear, that is the day the worst of this ghastly sickness came to plague Lilly. Those very symptoms you described."
I knew then that the connection described as possible between twins was, in fact, a reality for Lilly and I. Thankfully Mama and Papa thought nothing of our connection. They weren't a superstitious lot, and for that we were grateful.
Today was no different as I smiled. I would eternally be grateful for the strange tether between Lilly and I, however, I couldn't bring myself to completely divulge the whole truth of my night. Sure she could tell that something still vexed me deeply about the matter, I sought to divert her attention.
"Today is market day. Does Mama still have every intention of going?" I turned to Lilly.
"Of course. You know how haggling is the only excitement our poor Mama ever encounters," Lilly stated matter-of-factly. We both erupted into cackling laughter.
A few moments later, after I righted myself following a rather humorous display of gravity getting the better of me, we ran inside to properly dress for a day at market.
Procuring the necessary staples for the week to come, Mama was negotiating yet another steal while Deliah, Lilly, and I took in new wares. We had not yet gotten our gowns for the ball, but that small fact didn't deter us from perusing the fine jewelry. I knew there were more befitting pieces in the next town where we were to purchase our dresses, but I truly felt that simplicity was a sign of beauty in itself.
I espied a beautifully crafted locket made of silver with a single large garnet adorning the front of its square shape. I sighed to myself imagining it about my neck.
"It's beautiful, Bean." Deliah commented.
"Perhaps I shall ask Papa for it for my birthday, or Christmas," I replied.
A new reflection appeared in the window before us. My sisters found his eyes through the glass and turned to greet Mr. Wyatt. I would have nothing to do with the likes of him and stood my ground still admiring the piece.
"Oh, good day, Mr. Wyatt," Deliah beamed.
"It's a pleasure seeing you again," said Lilly.
"Likewise, Miss Dennings," he slightly bowed toward Deliah, removing his hat, "and you as well Miss Dennings." Lilly received the second bow with a slight giggle.
"Mr. Wyatt, we were just admiring this beautiful locket in the window. What say you of its beauty?" Deliah inquired.
Mr. Wyatt stepped closer behind me as Deliah and Lilly turned back to cast their gazes upon the locket once more. He placed his hands on my elbows and said, as he moved me, "If you stand here, Miss Dennings, you can see that you would be stunning with such an adornment."
I couldn't deny the shiver that passed down my back at his proximity and words. Taken aback by the kind gesture I uttered a meager, "Thank you, Mr. Wyatt."
"Now you have to tell Papa, Lydia!" Exclaimed Deliah.
"I have to do no such thing. Especially when the only justification for its purchase in haste is Mr. Wyatt's approval!" I spat, finding my voice.
"Lydia! Please be civil! Mr. Wyatt was only complimenting you and voicing an opinion we all share." Deliah chided, sounding like Mama.
"She's perfectly entitled to her opinion, Miss Dennings. I do apologize for any unwanted attention I've turned toward you," Mr. Wyatt had his eyes trained on me, unwavering. A silent conversation exchanging between us.
I will find out about you, Mr. Wyatt, my eyes promised.
I look forward to you trying, Miss Dennings, Mr. Wyatt's cold blue eyes returned.
"Ladies, I must take my leave to arrange for the preparation of numerous delectable creations I wish for you to enjoy at the ball. As always, it's been a pleasure." Mr. Wyatt, again, tipped his hat to us with a slight bow before exiting our company as quickly as he entered it.
I was more confused by his civil, almost tender, treatment while handling my person a few moments before. His presence and touch caused a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and yet also made my blood boil with the need to defy all propriety and expose him. However, a part of me couldn't bear the thought of not knowing his secret, but still another was drawn to the fact that while I acted as though I were trying to push him away, I secretly delighted in the fact that I was bringing him closer.