SEARCHING FOR LYDIA Read online

  Chapter 6

  “That meddling woman, that Lady Sandvel!” Edra Jalenta Conty said, glaring at her brother as though he were responsible. “Why did they re-appear, she and her husband? Where has she been all these years that I’ve been slaving over the care of Lydia?

  “Where was she when I stayed up late because Lydia could not breathe properly when she was struck with la grippe last November, and many times before? Where was she when some stomach ailment of Lydia’s kept me up all night?”

  “You slaving over Lydia?” asked her brother, with an amazed look in his face. “Are you funning me?”

  He continued to stuff his ample face with large forkfuls of food that he did not bother to chew properly before stuffing another one.

  “You’re eating like a pig, Dwain. Kindly eat properly so that I don’t throw up in disgust, and yes, I did take care of Lydia when she was ill. You were too busy stuffing your face to notice.”

  “Lydia survived those illnesses you listed merely by luck,” Dwain insisted. “I don’t remember you moving one finger to help her through her illnesses, other than you called the doctor when she started to look really bad.”

  “Like you did anything for her,” said his sister, a look of disgust on her face.

  “At least I don’t lie about it.”

  “Be quiet already before I bop you one,” she said. “You’re annoying me.”

  Dwain glanced out the window beyond his half-sister and noticed that the day promised to be a dismal one even though it would soon be spring.

  The racket of the wind promised another miserable day as it slammed huge sprays of rain on the two large windows in the breakfast room, while dozens of crows flew about, darkening more an already dark day.

  The only good thing about the weather, he thought, was that it would delay the coal purchase. It would give him a day’s respite from hauling the weekly load back to the house in a cart.

  His half-sister was always penny-pinching, saving money for what she said was the day Lydia became of age.

  Lydia’s mother had not provided for Jalenta and her brother when and if this event occurred and Lydia married.

  Finally, meeting only with silence from him, the woman almost screamed, “Answer me, Dwain!”

  Dwain looked up, surprise in his tiny pale eyes that were almost lost in the fleshy folds around them. He closed the two top buttons of his woolen coat and flexed his hands.

  “Didn’t you just shut me up? What do you want, then? Make up your mind.”

  “This spring feels just like winter,” he added, as he ignored her glare and responded to her words:

  “Thought you were only talking to yourself like you always do.”

  His words were tangled within his chewing, which he did not stop for a moment, so they came out garbled.

  When her silence hung about the small dining-room like a hovering dark cloud, Dwain looked up from his chewing, saw her staring at him and offered a suggestion:

  He remembered that she liked to discuss things with him, merely because there was no one else.

  “So what is the problem? Any swain that Sir Harold and Lady Sandvel got for Lydia you would have to approve, wouldn’t you? Just don’t approve any of them.

  “It’s not as if Lydia’s such a prize that gents will be lining up down to the corner of the street to wed her.”

  Unconsciously, Dwain’s hand went to the back of his head. He still smarted from his attempts at romancing Lydia which had met with physical resistance so able he still felt pain in the back of his head from a fall down the back stairs when Lydia had pushed him off.

  He wished his sister would do whatever she was going to do and stop harassing him when he was eating, a space of time that was sacred to him.

  “Listen carefully, Dwain,” she added, “Lydia will be twenty-one by the end of the season. At that age, if she marries, with or without my consent, her husband will be the one in charge of her inheritance. A year ago, when I asked my solicitor to find out the conditions of Lydia’s estate, I was astounded to find out that Lydia’s mother had completely forgotten to make provisions for me in her will, once Lydia comes of age and should marry at 21!

  “Do you understand how that will affect us? And then if she doesn’t marry between the age of twenty-one to twenty-four, I will be her trustee only until she reaches the age of twenty-four.

  “After twenty-four, if she is still unwed, she will be in absolute charge of her fortune. And that includes this house and the house we leased out in Surrey. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “So I will depend entirely on what Lydia provides for me from the goodness of her heart, but not by law.”

  “And Lydia will be eager to provide for you after the way you’ve treated her all these years. Just look at the way she’s dressed…

  “You even sold the few gowns and dresses her aunt got her for her one-month visit.”

  “Shut up about that or you’ll find your teeth on the floor,” Jalenta yelled. “I have treated her just fine all these years and you know it.

  “If I were dumb enough to dress her in good clothes and allowed her to have friends and be invited to places, she would be noticed by the ton. After all, her parents once belonged to it.

  “She would be courted by fortune-hunters and we would be left without…”

  “All right already,” interrupted Dwain. “I get the message. You have treated her just fine and I understand the reason. Just let me eat in peace.”

  He shook his head. “Between you and the bad weather, I can’t eat my breakfast without choking on words.”

  “You’ve never known a day of hunger in your life due to me, Dwain, think about it. Think how it would be, to be hungry, to run out of money and have to go to the workhouse to get a day’s worth of rotten food.”

  She shook her head as she saw that her words had made no dent on him.

  “You would find out the hard way what hunger is,” she said.

  “So don’t approve any of the dandies that her Aunt and Uncle Sandvel, who are offering to sponsor Lydia for a season, parade before her,” he said to break Jalenta’s seething silence and her deadly stare. “End of story.”

  “She doesn’t need my approval when she reaches twenty-one. Weren’t you listening?”

  Chapter 7

  “What happened to Freddy Dale Panky? Wasn’t he your first choice if we had to get Lydia married? At least he’s from the gentry, although just barely, the way he goes about,” he said.

  “He hasn’t replied,” Jalenta said with a frown.

  “Write to him again,” urged her brother. “I remember him being just like his father who was a spendthrift gambler. He might be in dire need of someone to buy his debt.”

  “I’ll write again, although I don’t like the idea that we would have to give him a sizeable sum for his cooperation.”

  The woman shook her head. “I’d leave him as a last resort.

  “I lost touch with him when we moved to Surrey, to get that house that Lydia inherited fixed up so that we could lease it out.”

  “I hated living there,” her brother replied. “I like living here in London and all the hustle and bustle.

  “You told me we would be there for a couple of months and it turned into a couple of years. Out in the middle of nowhere. You lied to me!” he added resentfully.

  “You don’t have to make important decisions, so stop this very minute with your complaints. Lydia is already twenty-one and could marry by elopement, and then where would we be? I took her away from London for two years and any possibility that she might meet someone.

  “I always do what was necessary, as it should be. I followed the attorney’s directions.

  “Lydia’s estate is now receiving money from the lease of that house. But meanwhile we have the problem of the Sandvels.”

  Jalenta glanced at the document spread out before her, by her breakfast dish.

  It was a court order executed by the Lord Chancellor of the Court i
n Chancery awarding visitation rights to Sir Howard Sandvel and Lady Julia Sandvel for the entire duration of the London Season with their niece Lydia Millston.

  It was signed by his Royal Highness, The Prince Regent—with the impressive Royal Seal.

  Dwain stopped himself from shaking his head. He had seen his sister read the court order at least fifty times.

  She looked like she would like to tear it to pieces with her awful eyes alone. No wonder she had never married, he thought for the hundredth time. She was one ugly lady.

  He was fond of his sister, though, as one is fond of the money one has in the bank, that keeps one from going hungry.

  “Who exactly are the Sandvels?” he asked as he served himself another plateful of kidneys, ham and eggs. “I know you told me something about ‘em but I don’t remember. He was just a regular bloke and now it turns out he’s been made a knight. Was that just to bother us?”

  His sister shook her head and recited what she had said several times before to him:

  “Sir Harold Sandvel acquired the knightship last year.”

  “You sure like to keep up with the ton’s comings and goings even though none of them would even spit in your direction,” said her brother with a smirk.

  “I keep up with the ton’s doings,” his sister said through gritted teeth, “because we have to be prepared in the event anyone pops up claiming kinship with Lydia.

  “Sandvel acquired the knightship for some kind of service to the Crown during the war,” she added. “He has power now. That was why he was able to secure this Order. And he was already close to the Prince before that, he’s some distant cousin who had kept in touch with his Highness.”

  “The way I see it, it would look odd if you did not agree nicely with the summons,” Dwain said. “You have not given Lydia a season even though she has ample funds for it.

  “By the way, Dr. Vending asked me why you dressed Lydia in such old clothes. If you don’t want to get another order, you better get her some nice clothes.”

  “When did he ask you that?”

  “Last week.”

  “And you just now tell me?”

  “So why do you dress her like that? Like a pauper?”

  “I better go out with her today to a second hand shop and get her a few nice outfits,” Jalenta said nervously.”I don’t like that meddling doctor. He’s the brother of the solicitor who is to see that the order is followed.”

  “Best not to mess with court orders,” said her brother.

  “Since I never plan anything,” he added, “and you are in total charge of Lydia, no court would have reason to convict me of anything. But as to you…”

  “And what would you live on if I’m transported—air? You are incapable of looking for work, much less take it up in the incredible event that you found it, as we both well know.”

  “You live off the chit, so why shouldn’t I?” Dwain said.

  She ignored his words. Instead, as she followed her train of thought, her face turned red and she looked like she was about to scream.

  “I could just go out to Berkeley Square and choke that Julia Sandvel! Why won’t they leave us alone?” she yelled out.

  “So what’s the connection to Lydia,” asked her brother, unmoved by her outburst, to which he was accustomed to. “Are they blood relations, or what?”

  Jalenta breathed in slowly, trying to recover from her fit.

  “She is the blood relation,” she finally choked out.

  “It’s this way and it is the last time I explain it to you,” she said. “Write it down so you can read it instead of asking me again. Those with half a brain to work with must write everything down.”

  “Let go of the insults and explain how this came about,” said Dwain, shaking his head in annoyance, as he sipped cold tea.

  “Lydia’s parents, Conrad and Elizabeth Millston had a terrible carriage accident in which they both lost their lives,” she said.

  “Elizabeth died first. But she had been told even before the carriage accident that she had only a few weeks to live, due to a terrible decease she had contracted in India. Conrad lasted a few more months. In these few months Conrad made certain in his will that their daughter, Lydia, was assigned a guardian. Elizabeth had impressed on her husband, before she died, that she did not want Lydia to live in India. She had taken a dislike to the country because of the decease she had contracted there.

  “I was immensely fortunate that she chose me, her second cousin, as guardian.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because we lived in England. It made all the difference in the world to her.”

  “Her closest relation, Julia Sandvel, was Elizabeth Millston’s first cousin. But the fact that Julia and her husband were residing in India at the time due to Sandvel working for a tea company there and could not leave because of it, was the decisive factor against them for Elizabeth.”

  “It was the luckiest day of my life. We went from almost poverty to living as we do now, lacking nothing. And that is the way I want to keep it.”

  “So how are the Sandvels a problem?”

  “Apparently Julia Sandvel was very fond of Lydia and was upset that Elizabeth had not chosen her as Lydia’s guardian.

  “When she and Sandvel moved back to England, to their small home in Surrey, they insisted Lydia be allowed to visit with them. That’s when I hired the attorney, Alvin Pentimer.

  “It was a good thing they lived in Surrey, just a few miles from where Lydia and her family were from originally.

  “That was also when I found out that Lydia’s father had forgotten to include a provision for me in the event Lydia married at twenty-one. And nothing for me either if she was unmarried at twenty-four, when Lydia will come entirely in possession of her inheritance.

  “I was so enraged that day that I was unable to eat anything because I would immediately throw it up.”

  “I know all that,” said Dwain, “You’ve told it to me fifty times. “Go on about the Sandvels, instead, that’s what interests me.”

  She shook her head. “Well, Harold and Julia Sandvel became pests for a while, even coming over here to London from Surrey in the summer. They insisted I allow Lydia to visit with them and threatened to apply to the court if I didn’t allow them visitation rights to Lydia.”

  Chapter 8

  “Lydia visited only a couple of times, I remember,” said Dwain. “So what happened, why only twice?”

  “I allowed one visit when Lydia was five, when the Sandvels moved back to England. After that I managed to keep them off by inventing reasons for Lydia not to visit—illnesses—that kind of thing. All the time they tried to send letters to her. I caught a lot of the letters, but some got through.

  “Then they threatened to apply to the Court, so I reluctantly allowed Lydia to spend her thirteenth birthday with them, in a month-long visit.

  “Then the following month from when Lydia visited with them, Harold was attacked by vandals as he left his downtown office at night.

  “He lost the use of his legs. He had several operations on them, and it took him years to recover.

  Pentimer reported all this to me.”

  “Very handy attack,” said Dwain. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “Of course not! Why would you even think that?”

  “I guess maybe because it would be what I might think of doing and we’re very much alike, you and I.”

  “You mean, except for the fact I have a brain and you have none?”

  “I still think…”

  “Don’t think. You have never been good at it. Just listen:

  “The attack created great havoc in the Sandvels’ lives and the many expensive treatments to his legs impoverished them. As a result, they were unable to insist that Lydia be allowed to visit with them again, much less ask the court to have Lydia’s guardianship reverted back to them.”

  “Pentimer kept up with their comings and goings to report back to me.”

  “I
t took Sandvel years to recover but he was finally able to walk again with the aid of a cane.

  “To my astonishment, he then worked for the Crown during the war and got himself an appointment.

  “Pentimer couldn’t find out what work it was he did. He told me he suspected Sandvel was in the spy business.

  “He distinguished himself in very dangerous work. That and his friendship with the Prince procured him his knightship, and a nice pension to go with it.

  “He got in the Prince’s good side with his work, apparently, so much so that he was able to obtain this order from the Court, ordering us to deliver Lydia to spend the season with them.”

  “Maybe it’s time for another treatment to his legs,” Dwain mused.

  “Stop it with that and listen to me. Twelve weeks, Dwain! Can you imagine what things Lydia might be able to say against us in those twelve weeks?”

  Beads of perspiration appeared on Dwain’s forehead and he stopped eating for a while as he considered what Lydia might say against him.

  “You’re her guardian,” Dwain said, recovering a bit. He glanced uneasily at the impressive order with the royal seal. “You have to approve those dandies that come calling with their stupid bouquets.”

  “The suitors won’t be calling here, idiot,” said Jalenta with a shake of the head. “They will be courting her at Sir Harold’s house!”

  “I’ll start the letter,” she said. “Hate the very thought of it.”

  She took a sip of her cold tea.

  “This court order specifies Lydia is to live with them during the twelve weeks of the season. Lady Sandvel will insist Lydia go out with her to all the balls and events.

  “Listen, Dwain, Lydia might make up things about us…If she tells them about you accosting her, she might have a case against us.

  “Oh, I’m so upset with all this!”

  “Settle down, Jal, I promise to leave her alone.”

  “Good. It’s enough that Lady Sandvel will insist on taking Lydia to a great number of balls and soirees—that’s what a season entails.