Lydia stood behind the closed door while her mother spoke with Matthew … and eavesdropped. She was not surprised by her father’s reaction to the proposed trip. As soon as her mother suggested the Tuesday outing to visit the Westcott Women’s Club, Matthew bellowed “a respectable woman has no business in London, let alone traveling the public roads to get there.” Lydia opened the door another inch so she could see him. His glasses slid down his beak-shaped nose, and he glared at Caroline over the top of his lenses. She hated being in the room with him when his temper erupted without warning like this. She never knew what to say or do to placate him.
“Matthew, I have spoken with our Widow’s Group on two previous occasions about such a trip, and they voted to furnish the funds for the coach ride, so there will be little expense at all - only the cost of liquid refreshments for Lydia, Abigail and me. We will pack a hamper with chicken and fruit for our luncheon.
“I haven’t done anything yet about making the arrangements because the winter has been so vile. Now we are enjoying an early spring, and I believe the time is right. We ladies will need the summer months to get ourselves organized so we can set up fund-raising for the nearby orphanages.”
Matthew sat down on the settee and looked at Caroline with suspicion. “Are you certain this isn’t just an expedition to get Lydia out to see young men?”
Lydia bit her lip. It was all she could do not to charge into the room and yell at her father she had no such plans or ideas. She hated the times her mother and father yelled at one another, which was not often. But those occasions always made her wince. Under the circumstances, she felt very protective of her mother.
“Matthew! How could you say such a thing? I love our daughter. I would never permit her to take up with a man on a trip to London. You know as well as I do the only person I even vaguely know in London is Mrs. Moorehead, the Archbishop’s wife. The activities you are suggesting are shocking and certainly beyond my desire and know-how. Matthew, this is a good time for me to find out how Mrs. Moorehead raised the funds to start her charity group for the orphanage and to start such an organization here. I’m sure the Archbishop would be pleased.” Matthew still scowled.
Caroline’s shoulders slumped, and she got up from the rocking chair and started to walk towards the kitchen, “But then, you know best, dear. Perhaps it just isn’t the right time for me to start an organization like the Westcott Women’s Group. We are, after all, just a small rural community. We probably wouldn’t be successful anyway.” She took slow measured steps toward the kitchen, saw Lydia, and put her fingers to her lips to silence her. Then she let the door partially close behind her. She and Lydia turned and peeked through the doorjamb to watch Matthew’s reaction.
He sat there motionless for a few moments. His jaw ground back and forth as he appeared to weigh the pros and cons of such a trip. He slapped the Bible he held in his large, hairy hands. Then he pulled the Bible close to his chest, and walked toward the kitchen.
Caroline busied herself looking at the scrawny chicken roasting in the Dutch oven, and Lydia watched her.
He opened the door to the kitchen and said, “Very well, Caroline. You and Miss Lydia may go to London. Of course, you must take Abigail as a chaperone, and I will expect you back here by six o’clock so you can prepare dinner. Naturally, the same rules are in effect on your trip as we have here at home. Miss Lydia is not to speak with men at all, nor is she to sit next to any men on the coach. If the coach is full of men, then you will have to postpone the trip to another day. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Matthew. Of course we will abide by your wishes. I will send a message to Mrs. Moorehead immediately informing her of our upcoming visit.” Caroline and Lydia looked at one another. The trip was on!
***
Tuesday morning came quickly. Lydia, unable to sleep, had come down to the kitchen before sunrise and heard Abigail retching into her chamber pot. She knocked quietly on the door to Abigail’s small room, and Abigail could only moan in return. Lydia opened the door slowly to peer in. Abigail, normally rosy-cheeked, looked pale and wan. Perspiration trickled down her chubby cheeks. The room smelled foul from Abigail’s distress.
“Don’t come in, Miss Lydia. I’m afraid I’ve come down with the flux. My sister had it last week. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days.” Abigail began to retch again.
Lydia trembled. She knew her father would cancel the trip. Her disappointment reached deep inside her and squeezed. She could not let this happen. Too much depended upon this trip. Lydia felt frantic with despair. She would not even have the opportunity to interview for the job. Suddenly, it dawned on her she had given no thought at all to Abigail’s condition.
“I have become so self-centered,” thought Lydia, “and I have given no attention to Abigail.” Before another minute had passed, she went back into Abigail’s room and began to clean up Abigail and soothe her.
On her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast while still in her nightcap, high-necked gown and robe, Caroline walked by Abigail’s room. She looked in. Lydia, who was seated beside Abigail on the cot, continued to wipe Abigail’s forehead with a damp cloth.
“Don’t worry, Lydia,” said her mother. “We’ll still make the trip today. Just continue to take care of Abigail for the next few minutes, and I’ll deal with your father.”
A few minutes later Lydia heard her mother raise her voice to her father. Then, just as quickly, Caroline walked out of their bedroom with her head held high. She closed the door. She walked briskly back to Abigail’s maid’s quarters in a very calm, business-like manner and announced, “Lydia, as soon as you have finished cleaning up Abigail, please get yourself dressed and eat a little bit. We have a trip to make today, and we don’t want to miss the coach.” Caroline turned around and hurried to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Stunned, Lydia finished wiping down Abigail’s face, put a glass of water on the small wooden stand next to Abigail’s cot, and picked up the basin to clean it out. She whispered a few soothing words of comfort to Abigail and left the room.
“What did you say to him?” asked Lydia.
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. Get ready, and let’s go before he changes his mind.”
CHAPTER 3
The coach was not full – in fact, Lydia and Caroline were the only two passengers that rainy Tuesday morning. They sat opposite one another, daydreaming. Each looked out a side window at the blanket of dark clouds and the nonstop drizzle which accompanied them all the way to London.
Lydia’s calf-skin boots were now muddy and wet. She wanted so much to make a good impression on Mr. Quigley. Caroline noticed her daughter’s unusual preoccupation with her appearance and commented, “Lydia, you look absolutely lovely today. Don’t worry about a little mud on your boots. We expect it at this time of the year.”
She blushed, caught in a moment of vanity. She stammered, “I, I want to make a really good impression.” Silence followed and Lydia became quiet again. The coach rattled on, jolting Lydia and Caroline along with every rut in the road that met the coach wheels.
“Mama,” Lydia began, “have you ever had a special feeling? Oh, that’s not what I meant to say ... I mean did you ever believe life had something special planned for you? I … I know that sounds strange, but I feel as though something unusual and special is about to happen. I will meet my destiny. I’ve never felt this way before. It may have nothing to do with the position I want. It could be something else. I don’t know. I just have this tingling sense of anticipation I can’t shake.”
“Yes dear, I once had such a feeling. It was a very long time ago. Perhaps it’s part of being young and having your life in front of you.”
“Mama, you are a beautiful woman. I’ve seen that painting of you when you were younger. You were and are stunning. You must have had many suitors. Yet, you chose Papa and are not happy with him. He is not handsome at all, and … and … he is so strange. Why did you marry him?”
***<
br />
Caroline expected this question for years, but it still rattled her to hear the words said aloud. Matthew was not a handsome man, and his manner was abrupt and cold. Caroline’s life didn’t make sense to anyone who did not know her background. She mused over how to tell her daughter of the unusual courtship with her father, without sounding bitter and disillusioned. She realized the only way to explain the sequence of events was to tell Lydia, simply and quickly, the truth.
Caroline’s eyes misted a little, and a disconnected look crept into her face. “I was only twenty-one, just a few years younger than you are now. Andre was twenty-seven and my sisters’ piano teacher. My job was to be the chaperone during the lessons. He was so handsome, Lydia … and debonair and worldly.” She mumbled under her breath, “I guess I am the one who needed the chaperone.”
She sighed and took out her lace handkerchief and continued. “His full name was Andre Bonnet. He was from France, where he had studied music with several of the best composers. He wanted adventure, so he left France, only to discover in England he was reduced to offering piano lessons to earn his living. In fact, he was a brilliant composer himself. He simply could never get a musical commission.
“Yet, he never gave up. Twice a week he came to the house to give lessons to my four young sisters. Papa could not stand the cacophony of noise two hours in a row, so he directed Andre to teach only two sisters at a time. So every Monday and Friday in the afternoons Andre gave the lessons.
“I fell head over heels in love with Andre. Although by that time, I had already turned down several suitors, because I’d decided I would marry for love, or not at all. I was quite headstrong back then,” Caroline said proudly with a little smile. “Andre and I were waiting for him to earn a music commission so he would be financially secure, and we could be married. One day, before that could happen, Papa walked into the music room unexpectedly, after my sisters’ lessons were over. Andre and I were in … a heavy embrace. A couple of my hairpins had fallen out, and my hair lay loosely around my shoulders. Papa was shocked and outraged. He ordered Andre out of the house, permanently. He refused to give Andre any recommendations. Andre began to lose his teaching positions in the community. Papa would not admit to saying anything negative about Andre, but I know Andre lost those jobs because of Papa. Andre was eventually forced to leave the area to find new teaching positions. I have no idea what became of him.”
“Oh Mother, that is terrible!”
“Yes, it was. Little did Papa realize the punishment he had in mind for me would just about rob me of any desire to live. Mama and Papa invited Reverend Wixom, the vicar, to our home to discuss with him how to deal with their ‘uncontrollable’ daughter. Mama went out to the kitchen to help the maid with the preparation of the tea and cakes, while Papa and the vicar continued their talk. So, I stood outside Papa’s study and eavesdropped.”
Lydia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Caroline smiled. “Yes, Lydia, it runs in the family! I was not a totally obedient angel as a young woman. I figured it was my life they were going to talk about, and I was entitled to hear first-hand what they planned. Papa, as it turned out, was most concerned about scandal. His believed if it ever became known in the community I had engaged in unsavory conduct with a man of no prospects, the family name would be ruined, and my four younger sisters would not be able to make advantageous marriages.
“Reverend Wixom did not have to listen to my father for very long before he announced he had a solution. There was a man who had been in the ministry for several years, but who had yet to marry. In fact, the archbishop recently recommended the young minister to marry so he could gain insight into marriage and family matters – in which he was apparently lacking. However, because the minister had no interest in women, he did not know anyone to court. Not only did the minister not know any women, but he argued he had no desire to marry and would do so only if the archbishop truly believed it would help him in his Christian work. Papa seized upon the idea as his solution, and he immediately consented to have this Reverend Holcomb court me as soon as possible. I was horrified. Papa and Mama were both adamant. It appeared there had been gossip at Papa’s men’s’ club about the local music teacher who had been involved in a tryst with the daughter of one of the families to whom he gave music lessons. That was a close to a scandal as Papa wanted to get. Two days later Reverend Holcomb paid his first call on me at home.
“To Matthew’s credit, he did not want to marry me, either. We were both being pushed into the marriage by forces beyond our control. Barely one month had passed, just enough time to post the bans. We were married quietly in the chapel of my parents’ home. I rationalized I was doing the right thing, because the marriage would protect my sisters’ reputations and their marriage potential.
“I am sorry to say I have never loved your father, nor he, me. Your father has never kissed me, nor been tender and loving with me. Our wedding night was a nightmare. As soon as he finished his responsibility on the wedding night, he told me we would wait to see if I became pregnant. If I had gotten pregnant, he would not have to perform the act again. That was the extent of romance in my married life.
“Soon after the wedding I told him I was pregnant, and he never touched me again, unless it was to slap me for being what he viewed as disobedient.”
Caroline looked down to her lap, her hands clenched and unclenched, as though she was debating a difficult decision.
Finally, Caroline looked up, said, “Lydia, there is one more thing I need to tell you. I have often thought about this and never knew what I would decide. Now you know most of my history, so I might as well tell you my deepest secret … I was pregnant before your father and I married. Matthew Holcomb is not your father. Andre Bonnet is your father. We made love only once, but evidently it was all that was necessary. I didn’t realize I was pregnant at the time Papa ordered Andre out of the house. By the time it was proposed Matthew and I marry, although I objected strongly, I had become aware it was an answered prayer of sorts. Your father, Matthew, knew nothing about intimate matters, so I acted the innocent on our wedding night, and he believed I was innocent and pure when he had sex with me. I apologize for the crude phrase, but our coming together could not be considered an act of love-making.”
Lydia looked at her Mother to see if she had more to tell her. Caroline began again.
“With Andre, though, I knew what it was like to be in love – to feel the excitement of seeing a man who cares for you, to have hopes and dreams for the future – to share a kiss that makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. I want that for you, too.”
Lydia got up from her side of the carriage, and moved to sit next to her mother. She took her mother’s hand in her own.
“Mama, you are telling me I am not part of Papa, is that right?”
“Yes. I am so sorry. I guess this is my day for confessions. I only hope you will understand why I have kept this secret for so many years, and why your Papa must never learn of this.”
“Mama, you have told me nothing shameful – you have given me a gift … a wonderful gift! I know Papa has tolerated me all these years, believing I am his child. The way he has treated me, though, is not right. He has suffocated me in every endeavor I have ever tried – whether it was piano, sketching, or just climbing a silly oak tree. I always thought something was wrong with me because I longed for adventure and life beyond the horizons of Chatham. Now I understand I come by this desire honestly. I am not a deviant creation of my mother and father. The fire burning within me for almost twenty-four years is a natural part of my life – it is part of the creation of my Mama, whom I am now learning to understand, and a father who was talented and adventurous.”
“You are the sole piece of sunshine in my life, Lydia. You are my joy and my one outstanding accomplishment. I love you so very much, and I will help you in any way possible to see to it you get your chance to truly sample what life has to offer. I am only sorry it has taken me so long to realize
by allowing you to remain under the same roof with Matthew, you could never have a life of your own. Forgive me, Lydia. You deserve the chance to be kissed until your toes tingle, too. As long Matthew has any control over your life, you will never experience anything except total boredom.”
“Thank you, Mama. I’ve no need for men in my life. Oh, when I read those novellas, I did imagine I was the heroine. But those heroes are nothing more than fantasies. That’s the role in my life for men, a fantasy. Whatever happens, I will experience life on my own, based upon decisions I make myself. I may make mistakes, but at least they will be ones I have chosen. There is so much living for me to do. For so long, I have not lived at all. I have existed. No man is ever going to have control over me again. Man, by law, has complete control over his wife, both legally and physically. I have seen that with you and Papa. I will never give up my freedom in life to live under the control of a man again.”
“Don’t be so harsh on men, Lydia. They are not all like your Father. You will have to learn on your own what it means to have a man in your life who loves you.”
Just then, the coach driver yelled down to the two women they were within a few blocks of Baxter Place, the location of Mr. Quigley’s office. He asked if the ladies wished to get off the coach now so they would not have to take a hack from the coach headquarters to the lawyer’s office.
Being married to a vicar in a small to medium-sized parish meant money was never very plentiful for Caroline. So, the two ladies eagerly agreed to get off the coach early. The drizzle subsided to a dreary overcast day. However, the weather would not prohibit them from walking the couple of blocks to see Mr. Quigley.
The Emerald Tartan Page 2
