Chapter 19

"Lydia, Philip, how wonderful to see you," Caroline greeted as the door was opened by one of the footmen who had served the food during the wedding breakfast.

Caroline and Edward were standing in the hallway, where an obvious effort had been made to create the illusion of plenty—a large vase of flowers stood on a table in the center, and the floor had been polished. The footman was wearing ill-fitting livery, and candles were lit all around, despite the last sunlight filtering through the grimy windows still being more than adequate to illuminate the space.

"Caroline, how good of you to invite us," Lydia returned, and she kissed her cousin on both cheeks, before turning to Edward, who greeted them in a more subdued fashion.

"Good evening, Lydia, Cousin, and may I congratulate you both on your marriage. I'm sorry we weren't able to be present," Edward said, glancing at Caroline, who took Philip's hand in hers.

"But we can celebrate now, can't we?" she pointed out.

Lydia nodded. She did not know what to expect from the dinner—or what Caroline intended to gain from it. Perhaps she was being genuinely nice, and all of Lydia's suspicions were irrational. It was so hard to tell—the smile of a crocodile…

"Come this way. We'll have drinks before dinner. A sherry, perhaps?" Edward asked, ushering them into the room where they had dined on their wedding day.

It looked shabby—just like the rest of the house—and they were now served sherry by the footman.

"Do sit down," Caroline said, indicating the chairs by the hearth.

A door in the corner of the room opened, and the same harassed-looking woman who had brought forth the wedding breakfast appeared, pushing a trolley.

"All this expense, what does she think…" she was muttering. Her words halted abruptly as she realized the room was occupied.

"Thank you, Mildred," Edward said.

The woman nodded, hissing at the footmen to help her.

"Carry these dishes into the dining room, Spencer. Quickly," she snarled, and the footman hurried to assist her.

Lydia looked around her, examining the portraits on the wall, and trying to find something to speak about.

"Are you related to all of them, Edward?" she asked..

Edward nodded. "Yes, this house belonged to the fourth Earl of Walford. His mistress lived here. But these are all the former earls—the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and here's the eighth." He gestured towards Philip, who blushed.

Lydia realized she had inadvertently said the wrong thing by reminding Edward of his secondary status.

"And your title, does it come from a different line?" she asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation without appearing too obvious.

"The barony was created before the earldom—it's the more ancient of the two titles, but the joining of families brought with it two titles. The Earl of Walford, and the Baron Westborough. The barony always goes to the second in line," Edward explained.

Lydia smiled and nodded, even though she knew she had said the wrong thing, again. There was a bitterness in his tone, as though he felt only resentment as to his circumstances—or to what they meant to Caroline.

"Well… you wouldn't want to be the Earl, Edward. It's far too much work," Philip said.

Lydia glanced at him—was he intentionally trying to start an argument?

"Oh, but I'm sure you manage admirably," Carolinepraised, smiling at him.

"Well, I try my best," Philip said demurely.

Caroline nodded. "Yes, but the burden must be considerable. The responsibilities of an earl. I was saying as much to Edward only yesterday, wasn't I?" she said, turning to her husband, who nodded.

"Yes… a grave responsibility," Edward agreed.

"And how good to think you've got Lydia now to support you—the Countess of Walford. What a wonderful title. You must be so pleased, Lydia," Caroline continued.

It had not crossed Lydia's mind to be "pleased" about her newtitle. Being the Countess of Walford was not a position she had coveted or desired. It came with considerable responsibilities, and they were responsibilities she would gladly have avoided if she could. But she knew the opposite was true for Caroline.

Ambition, power, respect… these were all things Caroline desired for herself, even though it was Lydia who had unexpectedly claimed the prize.

"Well, perhaps, yes. I hadn't really thought about it. I suppose I'm pleased, yes. Pleased to be married to a good man like Philip, as I'm sure you're pleased to be married to a good man like Edward. It's so strange to think of cousins marrying cousins. What are the chances?" Lydia said, smiling.

Caroline nodded. "Yes, indeed—quite remarkable. But you're happy, aren't you, Lydia? That's all that matters."

Lydia nodded.

Compared to her cousin, she was the happiest of people. Lydia could only imagine how terrible it would be to be trapped in feelings of envy and bitterness. It was a horrible thought, and despite the act they're putting on, there was no doubting the tensions existing between Caroline and Edward. Ill-feeling was simmering beneath the surface, and an atmosphere of resentment pervaded.

"Dinner is served, My Lady," the trolley-pushing woman announced.

"Shall we go to the dining room?" Caroline called, rising to her feet.

They made their way into the dining room, where further expenses were on display—more candles, the best silver, vases of flowers, and a large piece of brisket steaming gently on the sideboard.

Lydia and Philip were directed to seats on opposite sides of the table, and Caroline and Edward sat at either end. The soup was now served by the footmen, whose attempts at formal service might have been laughable had they not represented something tragic, too.

"Do you plan to stay in London for a while? I hear Aunt Lucy's gone back to Berkshire," Edward said as the wine was poured.

Philip nodded. "That's right. She thinks Lydia and I need… time alone," he replied.

Lydia blushed, glancing at her cousin.

Caroline smiled. "My mother said the same. Though she's somewhat put out by Aunt Joanna packing her bags for Berkshire, too. You know how close they are."

Lydia knew well enough what her mother thought of her aunt Letitia. Caroline's mother was a snob, and Caroline was molded in her image. But it had been Lydia's mother and late father who had rescued the pair from certain destitution, and Lydia knew only too well of the debt they owed.

"It's only for a few weeks. Just until Lucy gets settled into the dower house," Lydia elaborated.

Caroline sighed. "Oh, a dower house—to think of it. And Edward's told me all about the estate, of course. Berkshire—a fine county, indeed. I can just imagine the house and the beautiful grounds. I'm surprised you've not already traveled there, though I suppose your London home is just as pleasant. Oh, but listen to me… you must think I'm terribly jealous." She smiled at Lydia across the table as the soup bowls were cleared.

Lydia smiled back, but she knew there was an element of truth in her cousin's words—more than truth, in fact. But despite this fact, she still wondered as to the true reason they had been invited to dine that evening. The soup had been served from the same tureen, the wine poured from a single decanter, and no threat was apparent. It all seemed… normal.

"You'd be very welcome to join us in Berkshire whenever you wish. The house is big enough," Philip offered.

Caroline clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh, did you hear that, Edward? We're to be invited to the house. How wonderful. Such generosity," she said, still with that same smile fixed on her face.

But during the dinner, in every twist of the conversation, it seemed there was a tinge of jealousy in her voice. She spoke as though she was the poor relation, always waiting to be tossed a bone, and grateful for it.

Edward remained largely silent, and Lydia could only imagine what it was like for them to be alone in one another's company. The meal concluded with ices and fresh fruit. No expense had been spared, and the wine had flowed abundantly. When they had finished, they retired to the drawing room for coffee, and Lydia watched as the cups were poured from a single silver pot. They had shared everything, and there could be no question as to something Philip had eaten being poisoned.

"You've been so very kind, Caroline. Thank you for the invitation," Lydia said as they prepared to depart.

"Yes, and you must come over for dinner soon," Philip added.

Caroline beamed at him. "To dine with the Earl of Walford on two separate occasions. We're certainly blessed," she said, glancing at Edward, who nodded.

He remained subdued, but thanked them for coming, assuring them they would be delighted to receive an invite.

"And do be careful on your way home. I always worry about dinner guests—the streets of London can be a dangerous place," Caroline cautioned as the footman hurried to open the door.

It seemed a curious thing to say. The last rays of sunlight still illuminated the evening, and the streets were quiet—hardly swarming with highwaymen.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be quite all right," Philip replied.

But Caroline took his arm and looked at him with an imploring expression. "Please, I beg you. It's not just yourself you have to think of now, is it, My Lord?" she said, glancing at Lydia, who felt somewhat confused as to her cousin's sudden show of concern.

There really was nothing to worry about, though to hear Caroline speak, it was as though they were about to step out onto the battlefield, or run through a pit of venomous snakes…

"Believe me, I take my responsibilities very seriously, Caroline," Philip reassured her, offering Lydia his arm.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. But please—both of you—take good care," Caroline said, and she smiled at Lydia and patted her on the arm.

Philip and Lydia stepped out into the warm evening air. Several couples were promenading in the park opposite, and a carriage drove past at a sedate pace. Their carriage was waiting for them, and the driver stepped down from the board to open the door for them.

"Thank you, Alfred." Philip nodded once.

"Forgive me, My Lord. One of the horses was playing up earlier. I took him round to some stables I know nearby. I left the carriage, but not for long. He just needed some oats and some water. He's all right now," the driver said.

Philip nodded. "It's quite all right, you were doing your job. Horses should be well looked after. I always say they're akin to people—a horse truly has a bond with man. Like dogs."

"That's right, My Lord," the driver agreed as Philip handed Lydia into the carriage.

But the mention of the horse had made her nervous. What had happened to make it upset? Had someone done something to it? She thought of the horse that had bolted, fearing the same might occur again. She made as though to get out of the carriage and inspect the horse for any signs of injury, but Philip stopped her.

"I know what you're doing, Lydia, but really… Alfred's as loyal as they come. He wouldn't let anyone do anything to one of the horses. You heard what he said. The creature only wanted something to eat and drink. Sit back and try to forget about it. We've survived the dinner, haven't we? As strange as it was," Philip reasoned.

Lydia nodded.

She did as he said, trying to put thoughts of what might be out of her mind. But if the dinner had served any purpose, it had proved something suspicious was occurring, and she could only assume it was her cousin who was behind it…