fond of melodrama as her sister. Emily believed that he harbored genuine feelings for Lydia, and Alexander had confirmed that belief, so his hesitance in declaring himself did not seem to spring from lack of affection. Indeed, Emily had observed him closely over tea, and his eyes appeared to follow Lydia’s every move, in such a way as to confirm his regard. Yet, when it would become obvious to him that he was regarding Lydia tenderly, his entire countenance would change, and he would steadfastly refuse to peer in Lydia’s direction for an extended time, until once again his feelings would overcome his resolution, and he would begin peeping in her direction once again.
Lydia herself added nothing to the occasion, as she had resumed her tragic role and was playing it to the hilt, with frequent glances in Sedgewick’s direction to see how he responded to the airs she had assumed. Emily and Alexander watched the two of them with much amusement, but then became so involved in their own conversation that they were able to forget that Lydia and Sedgewick were present, for the most part. Emily was doing her best to forget a great many things; that Alexander was a penniless curate, for one, and that she had just allowed a gentleman whom she had no intention of marrying and suspected of being a highwayman to embrace her in a graveyard, of all places. She resolutely put those thoughts from her mind and determined to enjoy this one last glorious afternoon in his company, and even Lydia’s sighs and Sedgewick’s disapproving glances could not weigh on her high spirits, which had an almost frenzied quality about them.
Alexander himself could not remember ever having spent a more glorious afternoon, and resolved to put an end to this charade by declaring himself at the earliest opportunity, unaware of the doubts that plagued his beloved.
It was with regret that Emily announced that they must return home. Lydia was by this time in such a morose state that she was barely cognizant of her surroundings. She awoke to them with a start, agreeing that their visit had been much too long and that their mother would be concerned about them if they did not return with all possible haste.
Lydia was correct in her assumption that their mother was concerned about them. However, it was not fears for her daughters’ safety that troubled Lady Smithfield. She was highly disturbed that her two girls had spent an entire afternoon, most of the day, really, in company with a vicar and a curate, when a highly eligible marquess lay languishing in his chamber. Although not the most observant of women, generally speaking, she had noted Lydia’s lack of enthusiasm for Lord Wesleigh’s company and was dismayed by what she had observed. Her previous conjectures about the match had been as romantic as Emily’s. Lydia and Lord Wesleigh were to fit into their parents’ plans for them by falling in love at their first meeting. After all, a rich young lord was the embodiment of a girl’s dreams. How could he be other than handsome and charming?
She had been a little stymied by the actual appearance of Lord Wesleigh, but only for a moment. He was given a little too much to matters of dress, but while Lydia and Emily saw a fop, Lady Smithfield, in all her romanticism, saw a man quite distinguished by his attire, one who would always stand out in a crowd, a peacock among vultures. His being ill, too, while at first thought of as an impediment to the progress of his relationship with Lydia, was soon romanticized as well. In many cases love was kindled by sympathy, and Lydia, in particular, was the most sympathetic of young ladies. She could not help but commiserate with Lord Wesleigh in his sickness, and such a tender feeling was bound to lead to one even more tender. And, with Lord Wesleigh confined to his chamber, he and Lydia had the opportunity of spending hours in close association, quite removed from any other society.
With such reasoning as this did Lady Smithfield dismiss any misgivings she might have about arbitrarily arranging the lives of two young people without consulting them on the matter. She had noticed, however, that things were not falling out exactly as she had arranged them in her mind. When peeking into Lord Wesleigh’s room on occasion, expecting to find Lydia in conversation with the invalid, Emily would be there in her stead, with Lydia nowhere to be found. And Lydia’s depression of spirits was quite noticeable as well. Lady Smithfield had always been pleased with Lydia’s calm demeanor, valuing it more than Emily’s vivacious manner, which in her opinion, bordered on the impertinent. Yet there was no denying that a little more liveliness in Lydia’s behavior would not be amiss. Since the marquess’s arrival, Lydia had walked about looking like a ghost.
It was in this state of mind that Lady Smithfield waited with impatience for her daughters to return home. When they finally did arrive, she said nothing of the length of time they had been gone but asked instead after Mr. Sedgewick’s health and that of his guest. She knew that she had been right to worry when both her daughters’ cheeks grew rosy at such an innocent question, and they began to pay far too much attention to the removal of their bonnets and smoothing out any wrinkles in their dresses. She was too wise to comment on their discomposure, or quiz Lydia on her feelings for Lord Wesleigh at present. Although Lydia was the most dutiful of daughters, there was no denying that she was also highly imaginative. If she fancied herself in love with the vicar, as Lady Smithfield was beginning to suspect, opposition from her mother might fix her affection irrevocably on Jonathan Sedgewick. So she avoided the subject of gentlemen altogether, initiating a discussion instead on what they were to wear to the Abernathy’s ball Wednesday the following week, an invitation to which had finally arrived.
Chapter Ten
Lady Smithfield remained in the drawing room with the duke after her daughters had retired for the evening. She wished to discuss with him her suspicion that the match between their children was not proceeding as planned. He listened quite attentively to her fears and commended her for her wisdom in saying nothing to Lydia about Jonathan Sedgewick. But he assured her that his son was quite enamored of her daughter.
“Really?” Lady Smithfield asked in relieved surprise. “He told you so?”
“In explicit language. He admires your daughter tremendously, and nothing would bring him greater joy than to marry her, but he is concerned that she may not return his regard. So he is wooing her, in his own way. But you know these young people today. He insists on doing things completely on his own, with no interference from you or me. I agreed to leave the two to their own devices, and I would suggest you do the same.”
Lady Smithfield agreed quite readily, overcome with joy. It had been weighing on her mind all day that the match she had boasted of to Lady Abernathy and her niece was destined to come to nothing, and she would be humiliated in front of all her neighbors. It was quite a relief to think that she would not be made to eat humble pie.
The duke was pleased to see he had relieved his hostess’s mind, but still could not be entirely easy until the entire truth was made known. But he comforted himself in that he had told the entire truth, though without specifying which daughter his son admired. With that consolation, and his hostess’s expressions of delight following him up the stairs, he made his way to bed.
Emily found herself practicing the pianoforte more and more since her acquaintance with Alexander. She had even reflected on the fact that if she had conceived a hopeless passion for a gentleman at sixteen, she would be a regular virtuoso by now. She was engaged in this occupation when Alexander arrived at the Smithfield’s on Saturday morning, anxious to put his fate to the touch.
When Wiggins would have announced him, Alexander begged him not to, and instead stood for almost a quarter of an hour, watching Emily play. If he hadn’t been so in love, he would have been ashamed to observe her thus; for when playing her face was so expressive, her emotions so obvious, it was as if her soul was nakedly exposed. Totally unself-conscious, not aware she was being observed, her body was almost an extension of the music, and she swayed in a manner her mother would have been sure to denounce as vulgar had she been present.
When the piece she had been playing came to an end, Alexander spoke before she could begin another. “Emily.”
Emily started, jumping up from the bench so quickly she almost knocked it over. “Mr. Williams! You startled me.”
“I apologize. Indeed, I did not know how to make you aware of my presence without startling you. You were so engrossed in the music.”
Emily was embarrassed that he had observed her such, and hurried to invite him to sit down. “I am not sure where my mother and sister are this morning,” she said. “I will have Wiggins call them.” She moved as if to do so, and Alexander stopped her.
