Lydia scooted up to her room to get her wrap and the list of entertainments Daniel had sent her. She scurried downstairs again and had to hunt for the library, having forgotten exactly whereitwas.
“Daniel, I am sorry to keep you waiting. I have been a bad girl and slept longer than Iamwont.”
“Understandable, as you must have been tired from the journey,” Daniel said as he stood up from hischair.
“Indeed, I was. Although we had a charming respite in Oxford with my aunt and Doctor Winston.” Lydia came over to Daniel. “You look well. It is very nice to see youagain.”
Daniel took her hand and kissed the backofit.
“I have eagerly awaited your arrival, and am so pleased to see you again. I see you have the list Isentyou.”
“Yes,” she said sitting in the chair nexttohim.
“And your thoughts? Any specialfavorites?”
Lydia opened the paper and consulted it again. “I am quite taken with the Mozart opera, and, having never seen the ballet, would love to see theRoyal.”
“And that is all?” heasked.
“I do not want to be greedy. And I know you will soon be going back to Honeyfield for the wedding, so I want to be modest in myrequests.”
“Then let us begin with these two and, if time and interest allow, we can schedule more outings for later,” he said. “And are you free this morning? I was thinking you might enjoy a visit to the British Museum. It is one of the world’s premiere museums. I think you would find it most interesting. And then there isthemost charming restaurant in Soho you might enjoy for luncheon. Does any of thisinterestyou?”
Lydia was feeling rested and adventurous, and his suggestions sounded most appealing. She could explore the surrounding area and the Belgrave Square Parklater.
“It sounds delightful. However, I am expected here for luncheon. I shall just need to notify Hammond that I will not be attending. Give me a moment and I shall beready.”
* * *
When Lydia returned laterthat afternoon, she was exhausted. She went right up to her room and laid down for a nap. She had been excited, but also overwhelmed, by the scope of the museum. So many exhibits. So much new information. After an hour or so, her mind went numb and she could no longer absorb or process any moreinput.
A little after four, there was a knock at her door and Nancycamein.
“Tea is being served in the first parlor, Miss. Shall I tell them you will beattending?”
“Yes, please, Nancy,” Lydia said, as she sat up on the edge ofthebed.
“Some post came for you, Miss Lydia. I put it on the sidetable.”
“Thankyou.”
Lydia stood up and went over to the table. There was a letter from her mother and another from Jenny.How nice,she thought. She would look forward to reading them later at her leisure. But now it was tea time and she wasthirsty.”
As Lydia entered the parlor she saw Ellen seated with another youngwoman.
“Hello,” Lydia greeted as she came intotheroom.
“Oh, Lydia. I am so glad you were free to join us,” Ellen said. “Let me introduce to you to my dear childhood friend, Sybil Masters. She is engaged to Viscount Turnbull. They are to have an autumn wedding.” She turned to Sybil, “And this is my good, new friend and sister, Lydia Fernside, who resides with us atHoneyfield.”
Lydia gave a brief curtsy. “It is a great pleasure to meet you, MissSybil.”
Miss Masters was exactly what Lydia imagined a famed London Beauty would be like. She was tall and graceful, even seated, and her blonde curly locks fell most beguilingly around her slender, flawless face. She had a wan smile but her eyes were piercing and attentive. She wore the most current fashion with ease and grace. Lydia felt immediately intimidated by her sophisticatedpresence.
“Miss Lydia, Ellen has been telling me all about your many agricultural exploits. Just imagine—climbing trees and digging potatoes. What will one think of next?” Sybil said, sippinghertea.
Ellen shot her friend a disapproving look and responded by saying, “Lydia is a very knowledgeable gardener and has vastly improved the scope and quality of our estate. And we are greatly indebtedtoher.”
Sybil just smiled and reached for a finger sandwich. “Did you know that Buster Slaugh was thrown at a gymkhana and broke his hip? His mamma says he shall be shut up until summer. No dancing for him for a month or two, I should imagine.” She gave an icychuckle.
