Chapter 13

"Are you all right, Lydia? You look rather pale. And what happened to your dress? It's all muddy," Lady Morton asked as Lydia entered the drawing room a few moments later.

She found her mother sitting alone, and she sat down opposite her by the hearth and took a deep breath. She had to tell someone about what had just happened.

"No, I'm not… There was a horse, in the park. It bolted. Philip had to push me away. I was terrified. But don't tell Ezra, he'll only get worked up," Lydia pleaded.

Her mother looked at her in alarm. "Oh, you poor thing, Lydia. How terrible. But what made the creature bolt?" she asked.

Lydia sighed. She had no evidence as to her suspicions—the horse could have charged at anyone. But in her heart, she feared it had been meant for her—or for Philip. Perhaps there was something in his past—his immediate past—and someone, for whatever reason, wanted revenge.

"Someone cut it, Mother," Lydia revealed.

Lady Morton gasped. "T-they cut it? The horse? Oh, but that's barbaric. And you think… oh, we must tell Ezra!" she exclaimed.

Lydia shook her head. "No, Mother, please. You can't tell him. He'll only get worked up over it. I don't know for certain if it was meant for us, and I didn't tell Philip. But when I examined the horse, I saw it had been cut in the leg—a nick with a knife. The poor thing must've been so startled that it simply charged at us."

But now she was beginning to doubt herself. There was no reason why anyone should want to see her scared in such a way. But as for Philip, she still remained suspicious…

"But if someone's done this, Lydia…" her mother trailed off, frowning.

"But that's just it. I don't know if they have or have not," Lydia replied.

Lady Morton shook her head. "I don't know what to think, Lydia. But… perhaps it was just an accident. You should go and rest. I'm sure you're tired after such an ordeal."

Lydia nodded. "Mother… do you really think we're doing the right thing? Philip and I, I mean. You don't think perhaps… well, that there's something in his past that had made this happen, do you?" she asked.

She knew it was a wild accusation, and one she had no evidence to support. But the incident with the horse had unsettled her, and she could not help but think she really did not know Philip at all. There was no reason for anyone to target her, but as for him…

"Lydia, you know why you've got to marry Philip. You have no choice in the matter. I know it's not ideal, and I know you'd rather have your own way. But the ton can be cruel, and I fear if you refuse what your brother asks of you, you'll find yourself a miserable spinster in the years to come. Men don't want women who have compromised themselves, I assure you of that," Lady Morton asserted.

Lydia sighed. She knew her mother was right, as much as it pained her to admit it. She did not want to remain a spinster, but she had certainly not imagined her marriage prospects to come to this either.

It was an impossible situation, and she thought back to her encounter with Caroline, and her strange behavior.

"We met Caroline and Edward in the park this afternoon. There's something strange going on between them. I don't think she's as happy as she pretends to be. And neither is he," Lydia said.

Her mother shook her head. "She's turning into Letitia. I knew it would happen. Like mother like daughter. Perhaps Edward promised her more than he could afford. You saw what she's married into—a title without wealth, a crumbling house, hardly any servants. Edward has all the trappings of the aristocracy, but none of the substance. Perhaps Caroline's beginning to realize what her life is going to be like—in comparison to yours, for example. That's why I'm in favor of your marrying Philip, Lydia. You'll be well provided for if nothing else."

Lydia nodded, a sudden thought now occurring to her. Her mother was right, Caroline was jealous. But as for how such jealousy would manifest itself…

"Surely not!" she exclaimed suddenly, not meaning to speak the words out loud.

Her mother looked at her in surprise. "Not what, Lydia? You don't agree with my assessment of the state of their marriage?" she asked.

Lydia shook her head. "No… I'm sorry, Mother. I think I'll go and lie down. I'm rather tired," she said.

Lady Morton nodded. "Yes, go and lie down, Lydia. You've had a nasty shock. But I'm sure it was just an accident—a young stable hand not looking after his horse properly. You'll feel better after a rest," she said.

Lydia left the drawing room, but it was not to rest. Rather, her mind was filled with different scenarios, even as they seemed too extraordinary to comprehend. There was no doubt as to Caroline's jealousy, but would she really go so far as to threaten her own cousin in such a way?

It seemed an extraordinary thing to comprehend, but the more Lydia thought about it, the more she realized her cousin was entirely capable of such an act. Caroline had been a jealous child, the sort that always wanted what others had, and as she grew up, she had developed a sense of ambition, such that it was hardly surprising she should feel a sense of disappointment that her own marriage had failed to live up to expectations and promises.

But to do something so wicked—to cut the horse, to make it bolt. She could've killed us. But why? What would she gain?

And herein lay the problem. There was no reason for Caroline to commit such a heinous act. She did not stand to gain anything from hurting them, so Lydia dismissed the thought once again.

It had been an accident, or so she kept telling herself…

* * *

"We should send the Archbishop something for his trouble—a case of brandy, perhaps. It's not just anyone who can procure a special license so swiftly. You've been lucky, Lydia," Derek said.

It was the wedding day, and the family was in a carriage, making their way to the chapel where the wedding was to take place. It was to be a small affair—deliberately so—for it had been decided there was no need to attract wider attention in the ton.

Lydia and Philip would be married quietly. There had been no great anticipation, no build-up—not even a new dress. Lydia was ambivalent about the occasion. She had not resisted, but nor had she gained any sense of pleasure from the prospect. Marrying Philip was deemed a necessity. It was demanded, and she was willing to go through with the demand, given her knowledge of the alternative.

"I already did. We're very grateful to him, and to you, Brother. Aren't we, Lydia?" Ezra prompted.

Lydia looked up and nodded. "Oh, yes. We are," she muttered dully.

Ezra sighed. "There's no point in being miserable, Lydia. Philip's done the good and honorable thing. And you've made the right decision in agreeing to marry him. That's the end of the matter. Do you understand?"

Lydia scowled at him, for he was being tyrannical. "And I suppose you're all looking forward to getting rid of me, are you? What about the three of you? Are you ever going to get married?"

Her three brothers looked at one another.

"In time, I'm sure we will," Derek replied.

Lydia folded her arms and looked out the window. She wanted to get the whole thing over and done with, even though her thoughts were now turned to what life would be like after she had married Philip.

They barely knew one another—not on intimate terms. The moment they had shared in the garden had been but a passing fancy, or so she told herself. She wanted to be angry with her brother, and certainly, she felt torn between the sense of injustice at having the marriage forced on her and the fact that things could have been far worse.

She did not dislike Philip, far from it. But as for being in love with him…

"Here we are. It's a pretty chapel, isn't it?" Lady Morton gushed as they drew up outside a large wooden door surrounded by flowering wisteria.

The chapel was an ancient one, though it was now surrounded by newer buildings—a row of houses on one side, and the offices of one of the city livery companies on the other. It was pretty but hardly grand, and as Lydia alighted from the carriage, she wondered what her wedding might have been like had it been on a grander scale.

There was no one waiting outside, and Derek told them to hold back while he went in search of a clergyman.

"You shouldn't see Philip until the last moment," he reminded her, before hurrying off inside.

"I think it'll just be Philip and his mother, and us," Lady Morton said.

"Isn't Caroline going to grace us with her presence?" Graham asked.

Lady Morton shook her head. "No… She declined the invitation. I did ask her, and Letitia. Still, I suppose she had her reasons."

Lydia was curious. She had expected Caroline and Edward to be there—even if only to jealously watch on. The fact of her cousin's absence—of her refusal to attend—was strange. But there was no time to dwell on the matter, as now Derek emerged from the chapel, followed by a surplice-clad clergyman who greeted them vociferously.

"Ah, My Lord!" he exclaimed, shaking Ezra's hand vigorously.

"May I present my mother, the Dowager Countess of Morton, and my sister, Lady Lydia," Ezra said.

The clergyman gave a curt bow. "Lord Walford is waiting for you, My Lady. I must say, I'm not used to such small congregations for a wedding, especially not one involving such esteemed participants."

Lydia forced a smile on her face, and she was relieved when Ezra suggested they begin at once.

"We mustn't keep Philip waiting," he said.

The clergyman gave another curt bow. "Certainly, yes," he agreed. "This way, please."

He led them into the chapel.

It was a few centuries old, though much of its previous ornateness had been removed—a symptom of the reformation. Now, only the vaulted ceiling displayed anything of its former grandeur, with the ugly faces of gargoyles glaring down at them from above.

Wooden pews flanked the aisle, and at the front, beneath an arched, plain-glass window, stood a small wooden communion table covered with a white cloth. Philip was standing in front of it, wearing a blue frock coat, breeches, a shirt, and highly polished black boots. He wore a cravat at the neck, and a silver buckled belt at the waist.

Lydia had to admit that he looked very handsome.

"I'll walk you down the aisle," Ezra offered.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Oh, really, Ezra, there's no need. It's not a real wedding, is it?" she whispered, but her brother only glared at her.

"It's as real as any, Lydia. You know that well enough," he hissed.

Lydia sighed.

The others took their places in the front two pews. The Dowager Countess of Walford was there, and she beamed at Lydia as she and Ezra passed by.

"You look so pretty," she whispered.

Lydia smiled. She liked Philip's mother, and it was not as though there was anything inherently wrong with the circumstances she now found herself in.

She was to marry a perfectly good and decent man. The circumstances were not ideal, but there was every chance of the two of them finding happiness together if only they were willing to work at it.

As she and Ezra approached, Philip turned to them and smiled. "You look… beautiful," he complimented.

Lydia blushed. "And you look very handsome," she said as she linked her arm with his.

The clergyman came to stand in front of them, clearing his throat as he opened his prayer book. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…" he began, and thus the marriage service was enacted.

Lydia and Philip promised to be faithful to one another in times of sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer. At these words, Lydia thought of Caroline, imagining the regret her cousin felt at the fact of finding herself rather poorer than she had imagined she would be.

What would become of the two of them? Would Caroline seek a divorce if Edward failed to live up to her expectations? That really would be a scandal, and Lydia could well imagine her aunt Letitia's reaction…

"Almighty God, who at the beginning did create our first parents, Adam and Eve, and did sanctify and join them together in marriage; Pour upon you the riches of his grace, sanctify and bless you, that ye may please him both in body and soul, and live together in holy love unto your lives' end.Amen," the clergyman concluded.

And just like that, Lydia and Philip were officially married.

Lydia did not feel any different, even though she did not know how she would feel after the event. She turned to Philip and smiled, not knowing what to do next.

"May I… kiss you?" he whispered, and she nodded.

He leaned forward, their lips meeting in the briefest of exchanges. There was no sense of romance, nor the same emotion Lydia had felt on the night of the ball when they had come so close to kissing in the shrubbery. There was nothing to excite her or make her believe she was doing the right thing.

"Congratulations to you both. It's simply wonderful," old Lady Walford exclaimed as they turned to face their families.

Lady Morton was crying, though her reaction seemed somewhat theatrical, rather than genuine, as though she was trying to make up for the lack of anything romantic about what had just occurred.

"Yes, congratulations," she hiccuped, shaking Philip's hand.

"Thank you," he said.

The others expressed similar sentiments, and with the registers signed and witnessed, the proceedings came to an end. Lydia and Philip had made no definite plans for what was to happen next, though it had been agreed they would go first to his London residence, before deciding on where to settle.

"I still can't believe she's married," Lady Morton murmured as the party stepped out into the sunshine.

Lydia glanced at Philip, who also seemed to have a hard time registering the circumstances he now found himself in.

"I feel just the same," old Lady Walford replied, shaking her head.

"And what now for the happy couple? A honeymoon? Bath? Brighton? You could go and view the Regent's new pavilion," Graham suggested.

Philip turned to Lydia, as though expecting her to have a preference.

Lydia shrugged. "I think it'll take me a while to get used to being married."

Her mother and old Lady Walford laughed.

"You'll soon get used to it, Lydia. But we must say goodbye now. The two of you have one another's company to enjoy. We'll see you in a few days," Lady Morton said, before she kissed her daughter on both cheeks and said goodbye.

Ezra, Derek, and Graham did the same, and with old Lady Walford invited to take tea with Lady Morton, it remained only for Lydia and Philip to return to his lodgings together.

Philip helped her into their waiting carriage, and as she sat back, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was done, but as for what lay ahead, she could only imagine.