Dear Miss Lydia Jane Pierce,
I write to beg an audience with you, Miss Pierce, so that I might explain myself and beg my case. I sincerely hope that you will spend some time reading this faithful account and judge me, as you see fit.
Although I can make no excuses about my behavior before I met you, Miss Pierce, I wish you to know, if it will bring you some comfort, that I had given up my less than savory companions soon after meeting your beloved person. Knowing you forced me to hold myself to higher standards than I had previously ever chosen to hold myself. And although I still do not universally condemn or aspire to be one with the ’good society,‘ you have shown me that much good can come from that world. Moreover, you compel me to want to be a better man.
I have been struck this summer by something that has never overcome me before, and that is love. And it is nothing base or crude, as I have sometimes hinted. You are the most excellent and most beautiful person that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. As I have caused you pain, I regret for your sake that you should have come across my path. I cannot help but be thankful, however, that I have been granted the opportunity of being in your company.
I stopped visiting you without notice, despite my deep feelings for you--or rather because of them. I determined--unfairly--that it was best to leave you to better company, and this is the reason I stopped visiting you. My conclusions were misguided: I realize now that I misled to believe that you were ‘promised’ to another man in Boston. This does not acquit me, however, as I should have spoken to you directly about the matter. I wrongfully believed myself to be doing you a service by removing myself from your world, so that you might have a chance at securing a place within good society. If my unexplained absence caused you distress, I heartily regret my decision more than I already felt from my own selfish reasons. I reassured myself that you held me in little esteem, and therefore did not feel my absence.
As for my second and surely more serious crime, I can offer only the flimsiest of excuses. While I maintained no relations with my former comrades even after removing myself from your presence entirely, a certain woman of that set found me that evening in a particularly disturbed state of mind. It was on this evening that la Comtesse and yourself, Miss Pierce, found me to be engaged in what looked like…I know not what. I was horrified when I saw the way in which seeing me distressed you. It was during the course of that evening that it slowly dawned on me that I had made a grievous mistake in forsaking you--I came to understand that you too cared. But I could not call out to you, Miss Pierce, because I did not want to harm you any further, still being determined that you were far better without me. I confess furthermore that I was very rude and ungentlemanly to the woman who had joined me uninvited. I was bereft, but surely I have never treated any woman so unkindly, and I shutter to think what you would have thought of my behavior.
From that point on, I made sure I would never cross your path again, Miss Pierce, as much as I would have liked to talk to you and explain my terrible behavior. I felt silence and distance would work better on your behalf, so as to allow you to move on to better things. I now believe, however, that I was wrong on this point as well. When I saw you standing under that tree, my heart rose in my throat and I had to speak to you. It pained me much to see how much I disturbed you, and how deeply I had injured you, because I never had any intention of giving pain to you. I only sought what was… what I imagined to be your best path towards happiness. It was wrong of me to have manipulated you after having engaged your affections, but I truly did not believe them engaged, because that is what I torturously wished it to be true. I wished myself to be the only one consumed by what I knew to be an impossible passion, thus saving myself from the disagreeable thought of having injured you as well.
I must humbly apologize for my often ungentlemanly and ill-favored behavior towards you during this summer. I may only state that I did not always know my feelings as I do now and even as I came to understand those feelings, I was much confused by them. Moreover, I knew you or imagined you to harbor censorious feelings about me, which set me in quiet a temper, making me very ill behaved. I concede that my attempts to win you over were even more harsh and crude than my attempts to push you away. I frankly cannot fathom how you ever came to be partial to me at all.
I have no expectation that you will receive these words with forgiveness and understanding. I deserve none such kindness and ought not probably to be forgiven, but for your sake alone, should it give you pain to remain hardened against me. I do wish to repeat my sentiments expressed rather crudely on that road: I love you as I have never loved before, and I have long considered you to be in my estimation the most perfect being in the world. I love you, and am not ashamed to say it, and I only hope that it gives you some satisfaction that I have not used you without any purpose: every misguided thing which I have done this summer has been because I have been consumed by my love for you.
I do not doubt that your feelings have been altered from what they were earlier owing to my dastardly behavior. I be content that this alteration will bode well for your future happiness, even if your heart is now still rent with the pain you expressed when we met. Therefore, I beg your pardon, and sincerely hope that you will find joy in the future.
Your faithful and humble servant,
Brent Howard.
Josephine had somewhat reluctantly delivered Brent Howard’s letter to Lydia, apprehensive as to the effect such a letter might have upon her. After having it in her possession unopened for some hours, Lydia finally retired to her room and pulled the shades. She read it in silence, sometimes clutching at her throat. She could only imagine that Brent had never humbled himself before, as he did in the sentiments he expressed in this soul baring missive. He was a proud man--a stubborn man even--and yet, he had opened himself up so completely to her in these short pages, that she was almost ashamed of having brought such an effect upon a man. The most unbearable thing that became clear to her was that he had loved her all along, yet imagined that she did not love him; and at the same, the same had been true for her. How dreadful it seemed that they had been so deceived, and now he believed that she hated him, owing entirely to her own declarations. She could not force herself hate him, even after he had wounded her deeply; her own true feeling would not allow it, and his humble letter had done much to smooth her remaining fury.
Lydia realized that she cared not for his past dealings: she only cared about the here and now. And in the immediate future she was faced with departure from her beloved. It was too much to bear. Desperate, she no longer cared if she was never a part of ‘good society’ again, because it meant nothing to her without Brent. So Lydia quickly composed a letter to be delivered to Brent by the same carrier.
Dear Brent,
You imagine that my heart has turned against you. It has certainly done nothing of the kind. Indeed, my feelings upon receiving your sentiments are quite the opposite from what you believe them to be.
While I will not perjure myself and say that you have not injured me immensely--life without you is much worse than you can imagine, or, as your letter elucidates, perhaps you can imagine. But all is forgiven and my dearest Brent, I fear going away from Rock Lucian to never see you again. My family plans to leave in less than two weeks. The thought of it is unbearable.
I love you as well and care nothing for your past or your present dealings with anyone but myself: I care only for you: you are my heart, my love, my soul. I cannot help loving you, nor would I want to.
While I am glad to have received your letter and its sentiments, I only wish there was some way I could have seen to it that you did not have to humble yourself as you did…yet my estimation of you is no less than before, if not even greater.
I will always be your devoted,
Lydia Jane Pierce
Lydia was quickly rewarded with the following brief letter:
Dear Miss Lydia Jane Pierce,
May I presume to ask for a meeting where we might speak in privacy? I will await you answer, and until then
I remain,
Your faithful and humble servant,
Brent Howard.
Lydia answered as soon as she could devise a plan:
Dear Brent,
It would suit me well for you to visit on Sunday morning, when I will stay home from church and therefore be alone. I will look forward to your arrival. There is no need to respond to this brief missive unless the time is not to your liking.
Your devoted,
Lydia Jane Pierce.
Now Lydia only had to wait until Sunday, when she believed she would see Brent for the last time.
Chapter 21
Lydia sat at the piano in her aunt’s parlor. She had not had the inclination, time, or privacy to play this summer, but now she was glad there was an instrument on which to practice. She stroked the keys, playing her favorite minuet. It was easy to become absorbed in the music, to close her eyes, and feel very far away--to feel utterly alone and not mind in the least. The entire house was empty and the small piano filled the rooms with music. How good it seemed. Nothing could go wrong with the cool breeze and the smell of the wisteria coming in from the street through the open window. Lydia was totally absorbed in the atmosphere that she was creating for herself.
Brent almost hated to ring the doorbell. He had seen and heard Lydia at the piano from the window facing onto the street. It was one the most pleasing sounds he had ever heard; people had said that she played beautifully, but many compliments are easily handed out. Now Brent knew that the compliments had not been strong enough. He stood listening at the door for as long as he dared. He thought he might die on the spot when she began to sing: she was an angel.
Hating himself for doing it, he pulled on the doorbell chain. Only a few seconds later, Lydia opened the door, and silently let him in with a look of sweet refinement. "Excuse me for interrupting." Lydia looked surprised as she gestured him nervously into the parlor. "You heard my playing?" "It was the most exquisite sound I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. Will you play again?" Lydia looked at the piano, feeling awkward. "I haven’t played for anyone in months." "I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps in time you will play for me?"
Lydia sat down opposite Brent, not wishing to think or discuss the future for the moment, and therefore disregarding what he said. A future without Brent was unthinkable. Brent appeared to be unsure as to what he should say. Lydia had felt speechless on many occasions in her life, but it seemed to her that it was very likely that Brent always had something to say. "How are your parents?" he asked clearing his throat. "They are fine. Getting ready to leave." Lydia looked down at her hands awkwardly. Brent hated to see her so anxious.
He stood up, drawing her attention. He stepped towards her, kneeling down. "Forgive me for my mode of declaration, but I can not wait. Miss Pierce, I have long considered you the only lady I could ever love. You are not only the only lady I should care to marry, but the lady I must marry, if you will have me." He took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Lydia cried out, "marry me!?!" She pulled his head to her breast, frantically crying tears of joy. "But…but…" "Only one ‘but,’ my dear. I want you to be my wife, but only under one condition." He kissed her hand, and she asked with furrowed brow, "what is it?" "You must promise not to become a self-effacing little wife. You must remain the independent, brilliant, loving woman that you are. No wedding night change into what you think is appropriate. I love you as you are, and not as you think you should be as a married woman. Do you understand? I should still like you to put me in my place when necessary," he said with a gentle smile. Lydia kissed him, taking his head in her hands. "I shouldn’t need to! This is more than I could have ever hoped for, Brent! I thought you came here to say goodbye to me." "I feared that I would be." Lydia sat upright, realizing that her happiness was not yet secure, despite Brent‘s proposal. "Oh heavens, don’t let them take me away, Brent. Don’t let my parents take me away." He sat forward on his heels and took her in his arms. "All right. I won’t, my sweet."
Everyone in Rock Lucian was surprised when they heard that Brent Howard had come to ask Mr. Randolph Pierce for his daughter’s hand. They were even more shocked by Mr. Pierce’s affirmative answer. Even Mrs. Pierce had been stunned by the announcement. Mr. Pierce had to explain his reasoning at length to his wife. Mr. Pierce reasoned that Mr. Howard had more money than anyone he knew--a great deal more than Lydia would ever be offered again by a suitor. Mr. Pierce wanted to see his daughter well situated in life, and he wanted her to have whatever she desired. Mr. Howard assured him that he meant to make Lydia happy if he possible could, and Mr. Pierce knew that she would certainly never lack materially in this man‘s care. Moreover, his daughter would have as good a chance with Mr. Howard as with any other man that might come along with offers of marriage.
Mrs. Pierce, in response, threatened her husband with their daughter’s banishment from all good society. Mr. Pierce calmly replied to her hysterics: "They can buy whose ever company they wish to keep. Mr. Howard has assured me that he loves Lydia and that she returns his affection, and as vulgar as love matches may seem to you my dear, it seems to me that we cannot ask for much more, seeing as he also assures me that he will work to keep her in the sphere to which she has been accustomed. I could not say ’no,’ for I do not believe we could ask for more for Lydia." "How shall I stand to see her attached to such a man?" Mrs. Pierce wailed. "Perhaps one day we will come to our daughter and Mr. Howard for help, so I would treat him with due civility." Mrs. Pierce threw the handkerchief that she had been dabbing her eyes with. "I will never forgive myself for having brought Lydia to this place, where she was made to mix with such people." Mr. Pierce gazed over his spectacles at his hysterical wife. "That may be, but I am quite pleased with how things have worked out. I was just as taken aback as you when he came to me, but after careful consideration, I believe everyone will in due course forget Mr. Howard’s shocking background. Surely they will come to accept a man of his wealth with such a wife at his side."
This indeed turned out to be the case: while Lydia and Brent themselves had no strict rule that they would only mix with ‘good society,’ they were accepted into it at first with some reservation. General good will followed Brent’s open pocket book and Lydia‘s pleasing company, however. Brent and Lydia enjoyed laughing at the more absurd members of their company and found more pleasant company in a precious few others, including la Comtesse and the Comte de Orville. As soon as Josephine’s divorce was completed and Russell and Josephine were married, Brent took Lydia to France to visit her friend.
Brent and Lydia did a great deal of traveling, but they did keep roots in New York, where they lived in lavish fashion and comfort on the most expensive and newly fashionable street in New York with the prestige of old money and the flare of new. Brent’s parents had reluctantly set aside their pride and made amends, when they heard of their son’s marriage to a very respectable girl; in his own turn, Brent accepted them after being encouraged to do so by Lydia, to whom he could refuse nothing. The Howards were firmly convinced of their son’s reform after the birth of their first grandchild, shortly after a year had passed since Brent and Lydia were married. Never did Brent or Lydia regret their little Bella Charlotte Howard, as Josephine had once suggested, nor did they regret their son, Carl Duncan Howard. Both children were their parents’ joy, and had Lydia’s mother known how much time both she and Brent spent personally taking care of them, she would have been heartily ashamed. The Howards were extremely happy in their different way of life, and never truly suffered the pang of being separated from ‘good society.’
Then as for the rest of the members of our story, their fates were as follows. The Orvilles were in high spirits after leaving America for France, and the Comte de Feuillide eagerly divorced Josephine and quickly remarried in hopes of having a real heir to inherit his land and title. Josephine and Russell threw parties that were grand enough that France and its upper crust quickly forgot that only a few years ago Josephine was married to a different Comte. Their son, Marshall, eventually would come to take up what was his: the land and title of the Comte de Orville.
Robert Pierce and his brother both married within the same year as Lydia, and while Robert held reservations about letting his adored cousin go to such a man, he could never have her, so it was of little matter after all. Her male cousins found happiness with their respective wives, even though Mrs. Robert Pierce turned out to have more spirit than her husband had supposed while they were courting.
Valerie waited another three years to find a gentleman to marry her, and she owed her success to her cousin: Lydia invited her cousin for the winter season in New York and introduced Valerie to a number of suitable and eligible gentlemen. Valerie was not so lucky as to catch the richest man, nor the brightest, but suited her purposes after years of the chase and she found New York a very pleasing new home as Mrs. Valerie Tennant.
The reader will be pleased, the author is sure, that the truest happiest in this story was reserved for Brent and Lydia Howard, because it is only fitting and it would not be just to have it any other way. It is best to end on the scene of Brent and Lydia’s wedding day, when Brent smiled upon his handsome new bride and said, "To you, my dearest love, I give my life and my heart." Lydia could not have asked for anything else that she would have rather been given.
THE END
