CHAPTER 23

The following day, Sylvia sat opposite Lord George and Aunt Grace in a carriage, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone streets did little to soothe her intense anxiety. Today was Aunt Grace's birthday, and Lord George had planned a picnic near the Serpentine in Hyde Park. Despite her desire to avoid society's prying eyes, Sylvia felt a deep sense of obligation to Aunt Grace. She reassured herself that one more public appearance would not matter, especially with her impending departure to Bath.

She would be out of here soon, and then she could put all of this behind her at long last.

Aunt Grace, sitting beside Lord George, was brimming with excitement. "It is a beautiful day, is it not, Sylvia?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She was clearly hoping for a lovely birthday today. "The sun is shining, and the park will be lovely."

Sylvia managed a smile, though her heart was not in it. Much as she was happy to be here for her aunt, she could not help worrying that her presence would cause more problems. "Yes, it is a lovely day. Perfect for a picnic."

Lord George noticed her tension and smiled reassuringly at her. "Lady Sylvia, you do not have to worry. We will have a wonderful time, and no one will bother us."

Sylvia appreciated his attempt to comfort her, but the recent ball's memories lingered like a dark cloud. She sighed softly. "I hope you are right, Lord George. I just want Aunt Grace to have a pleasant birthday. I would not like anything that has happened to me to affect today."

Upon arriving at the park, Aunt Grace's servants quickly set up a picnic area under the shade of a large tree with a view of the Serpentine. The blanket was spread out, laden with an assortment of delicacies and a large bouquet of wild flowers that Lily had picked earlier. Sylvia helped Aunt Grace arrange the food, trying to lose herself in the simplicity of the task so she did not focus on who might be around them, looking at her.

Once everything was ready, they settled on the blanket, enjoying the gentle breeze and the cheerful sounds of nature around them. Lord George poured lemonade into delicate glasses, and they toasted to Aunt Grace's birthday, the mood light and joyful.

As they chatted and laughed, Sylvia glanced around the park, actually managing to lose herself in the serene beauty of the park around her. As she relaxed with her family, she allowed herself to think about the parts of London that she might miss given time. Hyde Park was most certainly one of those things. It really was beautiful here.

But maybe not as beautiful as Bath…

Oh no.

All of a sudden, her heart stopped beating as her eyes inadvertently caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance. Someone that she most certainly did not wish to see today. It was Lord Wesley, walking along the path with Lady Arabella by his side. They appeared to be deep in conversation, their heads close together, and the sight sent a sharp sting through Sylvia's heart.

The wine spill had only caused more of a division between them. It had clearly helped him to realize that he was much better off with Lady Arabella than her.

She should be glad for this because she did want to see Lord Wesley happy. But in front of her was too hard.

She quickly looked away, but the image was seared into her mind. That was something she did not want to take to Bath with her, but she knew that she was going to have to deal with the heartbreak regardless.

Aunt Grace noticed the change in Sylvia's demeanor. "Sylvia, is something wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Sylvia forced a smile, shaking her head. "No, Aunt Grace. I am fine. Just lost in thought for a moment."

But Aunt Grace was not easily convinced. "Are you sure? You seem troubled."

Sylvia hesitated, then decided to confide in her just a little because she did not want to give her aunt anything to worry about on her birthday. "It is nothing really, Aunt Grace. I just saw someone I know in the distance, and it stirred some old feelings."

Aunt Grace followed Sylvia's gaze, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Lord Wesley and Lady Arabella. "Ah, I see."

Sylvia felt her cheeks flush. "I will be fine though, I am not worried. It is still just a little complicated."

Aunt Grace nodded thoughtfully. "Affairs of the heart often are. But remember, Sylvia, you are a remarkable young woman. Do not compare yourself to others. Lord Wesley would be lucky to have you."

Sylvia smiled, touched by her aunt's words. "Thank you, Aunt Grace. That means a lot to me."

But she supposed it did not mater too much anymore, because soon she would be back in Bath, and not having to worry about a thing. She might still struggle with the heartache, but with some distance, and not having to see Lord Wesley and Lady Arabella anymore would help.

After the meal, the restlessness that had been simmering beneath her composed exterior became unbearable. Sylvia felt she could not breathe, the need for fresh air and space growing urgent. She needed a moment alone, a moment to gather up her thoughts. Plus, she had a feeling that Lord George and her aunt would appreciate a moment to themselves.

"Excuse me," she said, rising from her spot in the grass. "I think I will go for a walk."

Aunt Grace looked up from her tea, her eyes filled with gentle concern. "Are you sure, dear?"

"I am sure. I will not be long," Sylvia replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lord George gave her a brief nod, thankfully understanding her need for solitude. With a grateful smile, Sylvia slipped away from her aunt and started to walk along the Serpentine trying to gather up her thoughts as she went. It was easy to tell herself that this would all be over soon, but she was not sure if she would ever be able to forget London. The impact her short time here had had on her was insurmountable.

She would likely never be the same again.

The tranquility of the lake with the smooth surface of the water, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from a passing duck or the wind's gentle caress, was a nice sight but it did nothing to dampen her sadness. As she meandered along the water's edge, her mind replayed the events of the past weeks, the whole time that she had been in London. There had been so many ups and downs that it was no wonder she felt fraught and distressed.

Just as Sylvia began to wonder if she would ever find the calm she sought before she left the big city, a sound broke through her thought barrier. A familiar voice drew her attention. She looked up to see Lady Harriet and her maid, Eliza, on a make shift platform jutting over the water. Lady Harriet, ever the adventurous spirit, was gesturing animatedly, her laughter ringing out as she called out to someone passing her by.

Sylvia paused, a smile tugging at her lips despite her mood. It was nice to see a familiar face, just for a moment before she left this place. Lady Harriet had always been a source of comfort, even if everything else was terrible. Lady Harriet's energy was infectious, and for a moment, Sylvia felt a flicker of lightness within her. But then, as if in slow motion, she saw the platform shift. There was a creak of wood, a sudden tilt, and before Sylvia could react, the platform gave way.

Lady Harriet's scream pierced the air as she fell, arms flailing, into the cold, dark water. Eliza, on firmer ground, reached out desperately but too late. Sylvia's heart leapt into her throat, and without a second thought, she broke into a run.

"Lady Harriet!" she shouted, skidding to a halt at the water's edge.

Lady Harriet surfaced, gasping, her eyes wide with panic. "I can not… I can not…" she sputtered, struggling to stay afloat. Sylvia's mind raced. She scanned the area for something, anything to help, but found nothing.

Eliza, frantic and near tears, called out, "Neither of us can swim! Please, you must help her!"

Sylvia's breath caught at the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, she kicked off her shoes and waded into the water, the cold biting into her skin. She swam toward Lady Harriet with strong, determined strokes, her own fear momentarily forgotten. Reaching her, Sylvia grasped Lady Harriet's arm, holding her above the water as much as she could.

"Hold on to me," Sylvia cried out, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart. "I have got you."

With a final burst of effort, Sylvia managed to tug Lady Harriet to the shore. Her muscles ached, and her lungs burned, but she refused to let go until she felt solid ground beneath her feet. As they stumbled onto the grassy bank, a crowd, drawn by the commotion, had gathered. Voices buzzed around them, a mix of concern and curiosity.

Sylvia barely noticed the faces at first, her focus entirely on Lady Harriet, who was now coughing and shivering, but thankfully safe. But then, through the blur of the crowd, a familiar figure caught her eye.

Lord Wesley pushed through the crowd and approached Sylvia, his eyes never leaving her face. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric and the gesture itself made Sylvia's breath catch. She looked up at him, gratitude and something deeper reflecting in her eyes.

Then thankfully, he began shooing the onlookers away. "Give them some space," he commanded gently but firmly. "They need air."

Once the crowd had dispersed slightly, Lord Wesley knelt beside Lady Harriet and Eliza, checking on their condition. "Are you both alright?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with concern.

Lady Harriet, wrapped up in a shawl that Eliza had put around her arms but still trembling, nodded weakly. "Thanks to Lady Sylvia, we are. I thought... I thought I was going to drown. She did not even think about it, she simply jumped in to save me. I do not know what would have happened without her, Wesley."

Eliza, tears streaming down her face, added, "Lady Sylvia saved her. If she had not been here..." Her voice broke, unable to finish the thought. "I could not help, I was no use, I have never learned to swim, so I would have only made things so much worse…"

Lord Wesley turned to Sylvia, his eyes filled with admiration. "You are incredible," he said softly. "Thank you for saving my sister like that."

"Thank you, Lord Wesley," Sylvia murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and emotion.

As Lord Wesley continued to hold Sylvia's hand, a commotion behind them gradually grew louder. Sylvia, distracted by the intensity of Lord Wesley's gaze, barely registered the sound of hurried footsteps and anxious voices until they were almost upon her.

"Harriet!" a voice called out sharply. It was Lady Victoria, her face pale with worry as she knelt beside Lady Harriet.

"Mother!" Lady Harriet exclaimed, her voice breaking with relief as she reached for Lady Victoria.

Sylvia's heart tightened with guilt. How had she not noticed Lady Harriet's mother arriving? She felt a flush of embarrassment as she realized she had been so absorbed in her own emotions that she had overlooked the potential danger coming her way. She was not supposed to be talking to Lord Wesley, never mind standing this close to him. She needed to create some distance between them immediately.

Lady Victoria's eyes flicked to Sylvia, and though there was gratitude, there was also an unspoken reprimand in her gaze too, she could feel it shuddering painfully down her spine. Sylvia, feeling the weight of stress settle heavily on her shoulders, stepped back from Lord Wesley, dropping his hand as if it burned. She had loved the feeling of holding on to him, it had given her a glimmer of safety in this horrifying moment, but now she knew that she had to get away from him again.

This was why she needed to be in Bath. This was why she needed to get away from London. It was all too much for her. She could not handle any of it.