Lydia was exhausted and nearly numb when she got home later that afternoon. She instinctively knew she must hold herself together during the rest of day of working in the orchard with Edwin. If she was to be his equal, she knew she must hold her own. She must stand up to him, guide him—and at the same time allow herself to be guided.

There was a letter from her mother on the entryway floor when she opened the front door of the cottage. It was obvious that no one had been home when the post was delivered.

She carried the letter into the sitting room and peeked into the kitchen. No one was about, except for Gingersnap who dashed down from upstairs and rubbed in circles around her ankles, purring.

She longed for a cup of tea. She started the kettle and found a few scraps for Gingersnap’s bowl.

After the tea had brewed, she poured herself a cup and thought of wandering over to Jenny’s to tell her the latest developments. But she remembered her mother’s letter which she had stuffed into her pocket while making the tea.

So rather than visiting Jenny, she plopped down on the sofa, put down the tea cup, opened the letter, and found a five-pound note. She put it aside and read:

Lydia was devastated. What an extraordinary day this had been. And now she must prepare herself to inform Aunt Lavinia of the situation.

She had no choice, she must leave. She would be unable to do any more packing for the move, and she would most certainly, miss the wedding.

She considered what must be done? First, she must secure travel to Piddlehinton. Then she must pack, inform her Aunt, and write a note to Edwin explaining the situation. Would this end her employment? She had no idea. And she had no idea how long she would be gone. Could she even return? And what would become of her mother if her father died?

All she could think to do at the moment was to go and see Jenny.

When Lydia knocked on the Lovell’s door, her mother answered.

“Is Jenny in,” Lydia asked.

“No, my dear, she is running an errand for her father. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Lydia did not want to explain everything to Jenny’s mother just now. “No, but ask her to find me as soon as she is free. Thank you.”

“Very well, dear.”

Lydia went back to the house and decided the first thing she must do is to make travel arrangements.

Throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she left the cottage and headed to the inn where she could secure passage on the morning coach. She paid for her trip and headed directly back to the cottage. She was hoping her aunt and Bernard had returned, but they had not, so she sat to write a letter to Edwin.

She was about half way through writing the letter when Jenny knocked and came into the cottage.

“Hello, Lydia, Mother says you stopped by and wanted to see me.”

She sat down opposite Lydia at the dining table where Lydia was writing the letter.

Lydia put her hand to her mouth as she struggled with what to say. There was so much to tell Jenny she did not know where to begin. So she decided to start with the most urgent.

“Jenny, I just received a letter from my mother, saying my father is on his deathbed and I need to return home immediately.”

Jenny was stricken. “Oh, Lydia…”

“I have secured passage and I am leaving by the first coach tomorrow.”

Jenny just listened. She didn’t look like she knew what to say.

“I am writing a letter to Edwin to tell him that I am leaving and I don’t know how long for. I have no idea if I will have a job when I return—if I even do return.”

“Lydia, don’t tell me you might not come back? What would we do without you? Me, Edwin, Doctor Cooke, Ellen—everyone.”

Lydia reached over and put her hand on top of Jenny’s. “I just do not know. I want to come back, but I don’t know how long this will be, and a lot will depend on what the family’s needs are once I get back there.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Please tell Doctor Cooke of my situation. I do not have time to write him a note right now. I need to pack when I finish this letter, and I need to inform my aunt of the situation.”

“Certainly, I will go to the Doctor first thing in the morning when his office opens.”

Lydia bowed her head and smiled gently. “And there is one other thing you should know.”

“Yes?”

Lydia explained about her feelings after the ball when she thought that Edwin was treating her like an employee rather than as a friend. “I was in a terrible state when I had to go to work this morning, but when he came into the office he declared that he had feelings for me and asked if I thought I might develop any feelings for him.”

Jenny sat back in her chair and exclaimed, “N-o-o, he did that?”

“He did.”

Then Jenny realized, “But now you are leaving. Oh, Lydia, what atrocious timing.”

Lydia had to laugh. “Is it not dreadful?”

“I hope you are writing a sensational letter to him. You need to hook him while you can.”

“I am doing my best.”

“Might I see it?” Jenny asked.

Lydia lowered her eyes. “I think not.”

Jenny smiled. “Of course, I understand.”

Just then the front door opened and Aunt and Bernard came in.

“Aunt, I am in here,” Lydia called out.

Jenny rose. “I should go. You need some time with your aunt. I will give Doctor Cooke your message.” Then she stopped to think. “But what message shall I give him? Certainly, now that Edwin has declared his interest, you are no longer interested in Doctor Cooke.”

“Jenny, I don’t know about that. He has been a great friend, and I have no idea how relations will go with Edwin. His mother may intervene. In any case, everything is still too uncertain. Just tell him why I am going home and that I don’t know when I shall return.”

“Very well.” Jenny turned to go and as she passed Aunt and Bernard said, “Good evening Mrs. Daws—Doctor Winston.”

“Good evening, Jenny. Give my regards to your mother.”

“Certainly.” And she left.

“Lydia, did you have a good day?” Aunt asked.

“Aunt, I have some troubling news, please take a seat and let me explain.”

Aunt Lavinia and Bernard were most concerned after Lydia told them about the situation with her father.

“My darling, niece, I am so dreadfully sorry. I will write a letter to your mother for you to take to her.”

Bernard offered, “Lydia, would you like me to accompany you on the trip home?”

Aunt looked at him with some concern.

“Bernard, the wedding…” she cautioned.

Lydia quickly responded. “Certainly not, Bernard, you have a most pressing obligation here, and I am quite capable of traveling alone.”

Aunt seemed relieved.

“Then, instead of returning here, you may want to travel directly to Oxford, as we shall have moved by then. We can pack and move any of the few belongings you are not taking with you,” Bernard said.

“That is the other matter I wish to discuss,” Lydia added. “I shall not be going with you to Oxford. I have decided to take the small cottage His Grace offered me, and I shall work with him on his gardens. It is something I would quite enjoy.”

Aunt did not look too pleased with that.

“You intend to live alone on the Duke’s estate? Do you think that is quite proper? Certainly, you must have a companion.”

“Ah, Aunt, but I shall?”

“And who might that be?”

“Why, Gingersnap, of course.” She smiled broadly.

Bernard guffawed. “Quite right. A fearsome and protective beast.”

Aunt just shook her head and pouted. Then she turned to Bernard. “My dear, now we shall need to finish the packing ourselves, as well as organizing the wedding.”

“And we shall do it magnificently,” Bernard answered.

“And one last favor, Aunt,” Lydia asked. “Will you please deliver this letter to His Grace when you travel to Honeyfield tomorrow?”

Aunt looked uncertain.

“I shall deliver it for you,” Bernard said, “I will see him when I return to Honeyfield this evening.”

“Thank you, dear Doctor.”

* * *

In the morning, Bernard arranged for transportation to the inn for Lydia and her luggage where they were to await the coach.

They were a little early, so Bernard offered Lydia a cup of tea in the inn’s dining room.

“I have to say, Lydia, I am disappointed you will not be joining us at Oxford. But I also understand why you might wish to stay here. And I know your aunt will also be disappointed, but perhaps for a different reason. She has come to depend on you—but you are not her servant, and must choose your own path.”

“Quite so, Bernard. However, that does not mean we shall never see each other again. You enjoy travel, I enjoy travel, so our paths shall likely cross again.”

“And there are always letters. I shall write.”

“As will I,” Lydia said.

The coach arrived promptly, and Lydia’s luggage was quickly loaded, as it would soon be time to leave.

Lydia gave Bernard a hug. “Have a wonderful wedding. I am so sorry to miss it.”

“We shall certainly miss you.”

Lydia got into the coach and leaned out the window to visit more with Bernard when Doctor Cooke came running up.

“Oh, good. You have not left yet,” he shouted. “Miss Jenny just told me about your situation and I wanted to catch you to say good-bye.”

“How kind of you, Reginald. It is much appreciated.”

“Don’t forget me while you are gone.”

“Nor you me,” Lydia replied, feeling a genuine affection for the kindness he showed.

“Perhaps you might write me if you are able?” he asked.

“If I can.”

The drivers called out to the horses and the coach got underway. Lydia waved until the inn was out of sight and she sat back in her seat and had a quiet little cry.

* * *

Lydia, Mother, and sisters all hugged each other and laughed, cried, and wailed in a symphony of concern. Lydia could see there would be a lot of tears during her visit home.

“Lydia,” her mother said. “Margaret will be sharing your room while she is here. And Emily will have Margaret’s room to herself as she has the baby.”

“Of course. But can I see Father now, please?” Lydia asked.

Mother threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, dinner. What are we to do about dinner?” She turned in a circle, as though she had intended to go to the kitchen, but changed her mind, and ended up facing Lydia again. “Your Father. Of course. You must see your Father. He has a bed in his study as he tosses and turns and I cannot get a wink of sleep.”

Lydia’s luggage was piled in the entry way. And as there was no Lucy, she would need to take it up to her room herself. But that would have to wait.

She started up the stairs, when Mother called out again, addressing the other two sisters, “One of you will need to go to Butcher Barns and pick up a string of sausages, or we shall have nothing for dinner. And perhaps a cabbage at the greengrocers.”

Lydia disappeared into her father’s study. She was so used to seeing his bright and welcoming smile when she entered, sitting at his desk, or pulling a book from the shelf. It was a shock to see him barely sitting up in the small bed installed in the middle of the study.

“My darling, Lydia,” he said softly. “Come, sit by me.”

Lydia went over and sat on the edge of the bed. She took his thin dry hand in hers. His hand was cool and fragile as an autumn leaf.

“Father, mother wrote me and said you were not feeling well.”

Father, laughed lightly. “I am afraid it is a bit more than not feeling well.”

“Oh, nonsense. You shall be up and about before you know it.”

He shook his head. “Not this time, my darling. The doctor has been coming daily to apply leeches, but he says the prognosis is not good. However, I am resigned. And you, as my most sensible daughter, will be required to help the others. Can you do that?”

Lydia could not speak and had to wipe away a stray tear. “Papa, do you need anything? Is there anything you want me to do for you?”

He thought for a moment. “There is, but it is not medical. We need to discuss your mother’s future. The sisters are married and nicely established. But it is you and your mother that I worry about.”

“Papa, I am fine. I have a situation in Upton Magna. Aunt Lavinia is getting married, and soon I will have my own income.”

“I am very happy to hear that. You are a good daughter. I always knew you would find your way. But there is your mother…”

“Yes, I am concerned for her as well. She is not the most stable person. I don’t know how she can take care of herself if she is alone.”

“My concern exactly.”

“Might she stay with Emily or Margaret? As you say, they are well established.”

“I have spoken to both, and they insist neither can accommodate her in their young marriages. They do not have a spare room for her. Although I am not sure that is the only reason they do not want her. She is not the easiest person to live with, although I have become accustomed to her eccentricities.”

“Then what can be done?” Lydia asked.

“What is your situation in Upton Magna?”

“I have been living with Aunt. But she is marrying and moving to Oxford with her new husband. I have just rented a small cottage on the estate where I will be working, but I have not even moved in there yet. I am still very much establishing myself.”

“Would there be a place for your mother?” he asked hesitantly.

Lydia needed to think about that. “Oh, Papa, I don’t know. It is a very small cottage. There is just one main room, a kitchen, and a small bedroom. Might she not be able to stay on here if she had help? Maybe Lucy could come back.”

“That is the other thing I need to tell you. When I go, there will be no estate—only debt. And as I will no longer be serving the parish as the vicar, this house will go to the next clergyman when he is given this parish.”

“Oh, I had not thought of that.”

He nodded. “It is the fact, I am afraid.”

“How long will she have until the next vicar arrives?”

“Perhaps a month.”

“I see. Then I shall do what I can,” Lydia said, sitting up straight and facing the reality of the situation.

“I have put aside a small amount of money that I want you to take so that it is not counted in the estate, for it would surely be gobbled up by the creditors. It may be enough to help you establish your mother, however you see fit.”

Lydia nodded. “I shall do my very best.”

“I know you will.” He turned toward the bookcase on the right of the fireplace. “Over there, in the Herodotus, you will find what I have saved. Take it now, please and say nothing to the others. This is to be for just you and your mother.”

Lydia went to the bookshelf, took down the Herodotus and took out the money. She folded it and put it in her pocket.

“Thank you, my dear.” He looked at her lovingly. “I am sorry, but I must cut our visit short, as I am suddenly very tired.”

“Of course, Papa.”