The ancient Lord Piddlehinton, now in his eighties, had no immediate heirs and there was much speculation as to what would happen to the estate when he passed away. There were rumors of nieces or nephews from London, but no one seemed to know forcertain.
Lydia loved the solitude of the rectory. It was stationed in the middle of a large parcel of land, and included a charming flower garden with roses and hollyhocks in front, and in back a kitchen garden, an orchard, and a yew studded meditation alley where Lydia had a bench tucked away in the shade of an apple tree at the edge of the orchard where she loved to read on a mild summermorning.
As books were hard to come by, Lydia was reading a torrid novel she’d borrowed from her friend, Dorothea. It was far too gothic and lurid for her taste, and her mind kept wandering to the conversation about Henry with her father at breakfast. She laid the book open in her lap and lifted her face to feel the warmth of the sun filtering down through the leaves of the apple tree. She sat back against the bench and enjoyed a moment of peaceful serenity with her eyesclosed.
“My darling,Lydia.”
She opened her eyes to see Margaret walkingtowardher.
“Are you ready for our stroll?” Margaret asked. “I brought you a shawl in case the woods aretoocool.”
“How thoughtful,” Lydia said, as she stood up and placed the book on thebench.
Margaret came over and took Lydia’s arm, leading her along the alley to the front garden and down the walkway to the road. They walked along in silence past the church and out into the opencountryside.
Finally, Lydia asked, “Why are you having the wedding at Pulford instead of in ourchurch?”
Margaret frowned. “Charles’ parents are insisting. And I don’t mind really. I would rather have Papa give me away than marry me. I would feel silly if he were the one toofficiate.”
“But will he not feelslighted?”
“No, I have talked to him about it. And he understands that the Bolts have a much larger house that can accommodate the entire weddingparty.”
“Are you excited?” Lydiaasked.
Margaret glanced over with an apprehensive expression. “Oh, yes. But nervous too. Mamma has explained all about… you know. But I’m still not sure that I understandcompletely.”
Lydia laughed. “Well, I’m afraid I cannot be of much help. I know the basics, of course, but I am certain there are aspects that one can only discover on the night. You should talk to Emily, she should certainly know all about it by now. And after all, she is about to have her firstchild.”
Margaret leaned into Lydia and they both giggled andblushed.
They came to the newly finished stile and crossed over, lifting their skirts and carefully watching their steps as they descended into the field. They walked through the tall grasses that had not yet been grazed and finally entered into Lord Piddlehinton’s woods on the near side of the river where the air was cool, smelled of loam, and sent a shiver through Lydia. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders. The path was strewn with leaves and pine needles and was soft underfoot. The leafy canopy was thick overhead and admitted little sunlight. It reminded Lydia of the novel she had been reading earlier, where the heroine was lost in an enchanted forest. She took hold of her sister’s arm again, and said, “I think I’d rather walk in the open. It’s very dark and close in here, don’t youthink?”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Margaretresponded.
They took a shortcut through the woods and came out in an open field filled with clover and small daisies. A flock of sheep was grazing nearby and gave them a curious stare as the sisters floated through the field, their dresses rustling against thebracken.
“I am quite worried about Papa,” Lydia said. “He does not look at all well to me. Have younoticed?”
“Oh, I am certain he is just fine. He was working in the garden with Mother the other morning and they were chatting and laughing, and wielding their spades with greatabandon.”
“I certainlyhopeso.”
They had made a full circle and were back at thestile.
“I think it must be near noon and dinnertime. Shall we head back?” Margaretasked.
“If you like. I had a late breakfast so I am not all that hungry, but Mother will have a fit if wearelate.”
“I believe we are to have some of those very tasty lambchops.”
“The one's Mother made such a fuss about because the butcher was insisting onpayment?”
“Theveryones.”
They bothlaughed.
