Chapter 20: Know Thy Lover
Lydia watched blankly as Emily Doyle sifted through the garments that were laid out for her. The world seemed to be preparing for the Christmas season even though it was only early November. The Doyle's infamous winter ball was just around the corner, as a welcoming to the seasons, and the preparations for it were stressfully underway.
"The best of the best of Derbyshire will be there," Emily said. "Eligible bachelors from all the great families, Lydia! We can both find husbands."
Lydia smiled. "Perhaps we will."
"Rather sad that Lucy could not attend," Emily noted. "What business was so urgent that she had to leave so suddenly?"
"Our mother is ill," Lydia replied. "Lucy has not seen her in a long time, so she felt duty bound to be by her side."
"And yourself?"
"My uncle prefers that I stay here," Lydia replied. "Keep watch on the house, find a good husband, make myself useful."
That was the story that Lucy and Lydia were told to tell Emily, that they were the caretakers of Robert's interests in the estate until he could find a proper tenant, that Lydia secure a proper marriage, and stay out of everyone's way. Emily wasn't one for asking too many questions, seeing as they weren't close as it was, so she took the story as it was and even went out of her way to help find Lydia a good match. If only she knew...
God, if only she knew.
"Excuse me, Emily, I think I need some air," Lydia said, standing. "It's a tad stuffy in here."
"Oh, I can have the windows opened," Emily said, signaling for a maid.
"No, no do not trouble yourself," Lydia smiled. "I only meant that I require some fresh air to clear my head, and then I shall return and we'll pick out the finest dresses for the winter ball together."
Emily smiled back. "Would you like me to come with you?"
"Oh, no, I am merely going to take a turn of the gardens," Lydia wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. "Lucy told me that it's important to go for a daily walk alone, get away from everything for a while. Our father used to do it all the time, it kept his senses sharp is what he would tell us."
"Your father sounds like a wise man."
Lydia paused before walking out of the door. "He was."
With that, she swept out and ran a hand over her face. Why did she speak of her father when she knew how much the subject troubled her? It's as if she was trying to cause herself pain, or make it feel as real as it was. It was easier to write off her father and her mother's adulteries as myth, to think that their unhappy marriage was a figment of her imagination.
How did Lucy do it? Lydia thought as she stepped outside. How did she stomach all of this? How could she?
She raged, Lydia knew that. She wept, she ran, she hurt, and she did it all alone. Lydia had to pay the price for that, pay the price for allowing her own sister to suffer the consequences of their parents' mistakes alone. Had she only gone to Lanfore with Lucy and not let Beatrice go in her stead, what would have happened? Would James be dead? Would Lucy have Ross? Would the events have played out the way they had?
Would she ever have met Fredrick?
Lydia wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and kept her pace steady. She couldn't get lost in her thoughts, not now. Lucy needed her and she was here, that was all that mattered. But a part of her hated that she had to watch her sister go off once again to face her demons alone. That was what Lucy wanted, but Lydia felt she should have insisted to go with her as well. Was she doing her sister any good staying behind?
Lucy is the strong one. She always has been. In the end, all things she must accomplish, she will do so on her own terms, including saving herself.
Lydia stopped in her tracks the moment she heard a twig snap behind her. God, was she being followed? She was on Fredrick's property still, was she not?
"Ms. Quincy?"
Sighing with relief, Lydia turned to see the man himself standing there, handsome as ever, with the kindest look of concern in his eyes.
"Mr. Doyle," she curtsied. "Fine day, is it not?"
"Indeed," Fredrick replied. "Are you well?"
"Very," she nodded quickly. "I merely needed some fresh air, the dressing plans for your ball were stifling. I usually enjoy such things but since Lucy left I..." She stopped. "Forgive me, I am speaking out of turn."
"You are not," he assured her, stepping forward. "Surely you know that anything you wish to say to me you can."
Lydia sighed. "If only that were true."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Mr. Doyle..."
"Fredrick, please," he was standing mere feet from her now. "Call me Fredrick."
Lydia shook her head. "You're such a kind and decent man. When this is all over, I would advise you to stay as far from my family as you can. Lucy and I carry too many demons, you deserve a life without them."
Fredrick frowned. "But surely you are aware that that is not what I want."
This conversation was taking a turn, so Lydia stepped back. "Like I said, Mr. Doyle, I was merely I need of a walk. The fresh air clears my head, puts things in perspective," she curtsied once again. "Good day."
Lydia turned quickly to continue down the path, keeping her head bowed and fighting back tears. If she was far enough away, hopefully he wouldn't see them, or the way her shoulders were shaking, but not from the cold.
"I love you, Lydia," he said, his voice causing her to halt. "I've known this the moment I set eyes on you, the moment you honored my life with your presence."
Lydia did not turn around, she did not dare. How could she, when everything she and Lucy were trying to accomplish rode on the betrothal? So long as Lucy and Fredrick were known to be engaged, she was safe, and Lydia would sooner see her own life end than let that happen to her sister.
"Search your heart, Lydia," he said, his voice sounding miles away yet so close at the same time. "I beg of you. If there is nothing, then I cannot argue with that, but there has to be something. I know there is. I saw it in your eyes, I still see it."
There was something, she knew it. A love abounding her soul, filling her life with a myth of beautiful promises. But she couldn't take it; she couldn't even reach for it.
Lydia sighed and turned around. "It doesn't matter what I feel, Fredrick. You know that."
"But there is something, then?" He asked, stepping forward. "You feel something?"
"It doesn't matter, like I said," Lydia replied, feeling her voice break. "I... I cannot betray my sister."
"What betrayal is it if Lucy and I feel nothing for each other?" Fredrick pressed. "She is a friend, one that I care for dearly, but you, Lydia... You're the woman I love. You've cast a spell on me that I cannot deny."
"It is not a spell," Lydia assured him. "Whatever I feel for you is nothing compared to my loyalty to my sister. Even if the two of you feel nothing, your union is the one thing keeping everything together. The two of you may not agree with the betrothal, but it is her safety, you know that."
Fredrick sighed and shook his head. "I know that, Lydia. The betrothal is what is keeping your uncle in check for me as well. But if everything Lucy has planned works then there will be no need for a marriage, and then you and I can be together. Is that not what you want?"
Lydia ran a hand over her face. "What I want is for my sister to be happy, for our past to stop haunting us, for our enemies to stand down, and for everyone to be safe once again. That is what I want, Fredrick. If that is what happens at the end of this road, only then will I seek my own happiness, which will always and forever be a future with you."
Fredrick's eyes softened and he strode forward and took her hands in his, caressing them gently. "If that is the case, then I will fight this battle to the bitter and bloody end by your side, Lydia. I will play my part, pride be dammed. As long as it means that at the end it is you and I together exchanging vows at the marriage alter," he lifted her hands and kissed both her knuckles before letting them go and bowing deeply. "You will always been in my heart, Lydia."
He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, breathless. The chill in the wind didn't touch her, for the warmth in her heart kept it at bay.
'Don't give up on love, Lydia. You and Frederick are meant to be together.'
Lydia smiled and turned to continue her walk. There was a significant lightness in her step now, for she knew what she had to do: fight the good fight and see her love at the end of the road.
For what was worth fighting for in this world if not the right to really and truly love?
XXX
Charlestown, South Carolina
John had debated a while as to how to go about telling his wife about Beatrice's advances—if that at all!—towards him, but a part of him wanted to keep waiting to see if anything would happen that would prove her intentions. He did not want to be a man to make false accusations towards someone for something possibly innocent and harmless, but her words did trouble him from time to time. Not that he had seen much of her since their last meeting, and he hoped it stayed that way.
Alas, such a thing was not to be. John was due at a meeting of no small significance, which was being held at Fitzgerald Thornton's estate. After being greeted at the door by a kindly footman, and receiving a warm welcome from Ingrid Thornton, John found himself on the look out for Beatrice, who at the moment seemed absent. Again, he hoped it stayed that way. Of course, in a meeting exclusive to men, he doubted she would make an appearance, but his life was nothing if not one strange happening after the next.
"I've called all of you here today to discuss a matter of some importance," Fitzgerald was saying, and John was only really hearing half of it. "It regards my niece, Beatrice."
John was still only half listening, but he already knew where this was going. This meeting involved men of significant status whom Fitzgerald Thornton had specific business dealings with. If John's assumptions were correct, then Fitzgerald had called all the men here—all of whom were single, if John was not mistaken—to broker a match for Beatrice. Excluding himself, there were about three men in attendance, all of whom seemed well to do enough and smart matches for Beatrice. The question was, then, why John was called over as well.
"She's of marrying age, with a significant fortune to her family name," Fitzgerald said. "I've discussed the matter with each of you in depth..."
Not me, John thought, but he said nothing out loud. This was like a business transaction and, as Fitzgerald kept speaking, it sounded less and less romantic. Of course, what was so romantic about someone's uncle pawning them off to the highest bidder. Only all these men seemed like the highest bidder.
"... Mr. Franklin seems an amiable match," the man next to John murmured. "A good business move on Fitz's part if he marries his niece to that old codger."
"Pardon?" John asked.
The man who spoke turned to look at him as if just noticing him sitting there. "Oh, are you a contender as well?"
"Me? No!" John shook his head. "No sir, I am happily married with a child on the way."
The man frowned. "Then why are you here?"
John shrugged. "Mr. Thornton is a good friend of mine and he asked me here, that is all I know."
"Strange..." The man held out a hand. "Jacob Green."
John took his hand and shook it. "John Brandon Quincy."
"You've been in Charlestown long, Mr. Quincy?"
John nodded. "Yes sir. Moved here with my mother many, many years ago."
"And your father?"
"He passed when I was young," John replied.
"Ah, my condolences," Mr. Green looked back to the discussion between Fitzgerald, Mr. Franklin, and the other man in attendance, one William Gunderson. "I think it's rather funny that Fitzgerald invited myself and Mr. Gunderson here when we all know Mr. Franklin is the best option."
John frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Business, what else?" Mr. Green laughed. "Fitzgerald has interests in investing in one of Mr. Franklin's new business ventures, and what better way to strike a beneficial deal than to marry into the family? Since his daughter is far too young, Ms. Beatrice Thornton seems the logical way to go. Mr. Gunderson and myself are nothing but witnesses at this point."
"I am sure he took you both under strong consideration," John assured him.
"I won't lose any sleep over it," Mr. Green snorted. "I'm usually content observing from a distance, and not getting my hands too dirty."
John grinned, liking that mentality. The two men continued discussing in kind until it was time to leave. Fitzgerald had made his decision, that much was clear, and John suspected that Mr. Green was right in his assumptions.
"Keep a sharp eye there, John," he said, "there's more telling things about than you know."
John didn't understand what the man meant, but bid him farewell all the same. But before he was about to make his own departure, Fitzgerald called him back inside.
"Apologies, John," he said, "I know you're probably wondering why I called you here."
"Not at all, I was happy to answer your invitation," John said quickly, perhaps too quickly.
"I needed a second opinion, you see," Fitzgerald continued. "I invited these three men because they were the top contenders to match my niece with. They're good; well to do men, so it was hard to figure out which one to go with. Each have their own benefits, not one more than the other, you see."
John nodded. "I understand."
"I figured then that I would pick the one which my niece would be best suited with," he continued. "But Beatrice is a hard young woman to figure out, even for me, and I've known her since she was a little girl," he looked at John expectantly.
John immediately caught on. "You want me to tell you which I think would be best suited for her?"
Fitzgerald nodded. "Exactly."
"Fitz, I hardly think I have the good sense to make such a choice."
"I trust your judgment, John, perhaps more so than I trust my closest advisors."
John always wondered why that was but he didn't question it at the moment. "Well, I was speaking with Mr. Green during the meeting, and he seems amiable, but uninterested. I do not know of his business benefits in regards to your needs..."
"He's a good connection to have if I ever have interests in Georgia," Fitzgerald replied. "But if he seems uninterested, I can sacrifice that connection for another day. What of the others?"
"I do not know Mr. Gunderson very well, but he seemed well to do enough, and young so he can suit Beatrice's interests."
"He's Swedish," Fitzgerald grunted. "I've always had a rather volatile business relationship with those sort. But you're right, he is young, and Beatrice would appreciate that. And he's rich, so I appreciate that, as would her father... He lives in Charlestown, so I would at least see more of my niece..."
God, if only there were a way she could leave Charlestown and not... Wait...
"But Mr. Franklin, from what I've heard is the better match," John said quickly, seizing the moment as it was presented to him. "Mr. Green mentioned that you have an interest in a business venture Mr. Franklin is partaking in? If that is the case, a marriage between him and Beatrice would work well in your favor, and from what I observed during the meeting, he seems more than interested in the prospect."
Was he selling it too much? Too little? John wished he was more convincing, but he did not get the forceful and overly assertive nature that his father was known for. Usually, John was glad for it, but at the moment he wished nothing more than to have it. Beatrice finding out about John's relationship with Lucy would be disastrous—that is if the woman still held malicious intent for Lucy—and her recent advances didn't help matters for John. He hated the idea of reading into something that possible wasn't there, but he couldn't take the risk, not where Eliza and his newly forming family was concerned.
Beatrice had to go.
"He seems good-natured," John continued. "And he's not Swedish."
Fitzgerald grinned. "I like the way you think, John. Yes, perhaps that would be a good match."
"A great one, indeed." A magical one. A fantastic one.
Fitzgerald nodded. "Then I shall write to her father immediately and inform him of the decision. Thank you, John; you have been of great help. I will be sure to especially honorably name you in the letter."
"No need for that," John laughed nervously. "I only seek your niece's... Deserving future."
They parted ways and John hurried home, slamming the door shut behind him as he did. He stepped further inside in desperate search of his wife, and found her sitting in her spot by the fire, reading a story out loud. She did that often, she wanted the child to hear her voice and know it was her. John's mother told him to do the same, perhaps once this debacle was over he would.
"John?"
John grimaced and saw that his wife was staring oddly at his hands. He looked down and saw that he was gripping his cloak so tightly that his knuckled were turning ghostly white. He released it immediately and ran a hand over his face, leaning exhausted against the door.
"What is it?" Eliza asked. "Are you unwell?"
"No," he shook his head. "That is not in the traditional sense. Perhaps in other ways I am more than unwell. I don't know."
"Stop babbling and tell me," Eliza said, shutting the book. "Darling, what's wrong?"
John sighed and looked at her, admiring her beauty and wanting nothing more to kiss her and hold her. He loved his wife. He loved Eliza and no one else in this world could take her place. She was his heart, his soul, and he would never betray her for another woman. He wouldn't let anyone come between them.
He couldn't be like his father.
"I have to tell you something."
_______________________
Author's note: Thanks for reading, we hope you guys enjoyed! Be sure to leave a vote and comment, let us know how you liked it! We hope you enjoy the rest! :)