Lydia’s mother was as close as she came to grilling Lydia. She sat plying her needle in their private apartment, while Lydia sat dutifully listening to her and answering correctly the questions being asked. "I’ve noticed Mr. Ramsey paying a great deal of attention to you, Lydia. Do you think he has a special inclination towards you?" "Oh, I haven’t ever noticed. I thought he preferred la Comtesse to anyone here." "La Comtesse? Well how is she?" "I didn’t see her today, Mother. I haven’t seen her since the last ball." "The ball…yes, that is where I noticed Mr. Ramsey paying you considerable attention. He seems as if he might feel some strong attachment towards you, my dear." Lydia quietly sighed. She knew her mother had not ‘noticed’ any of this: she was simply making things up based on Madame’s information. "Oh no, he was just hanging about la Comtesse." "Hmm…" her mother poked her needle through the fabric quickly and watched Lydia over her sewing. "Did he send you that corsage?" "Yes, but I don’t think it really means anything. Do you?" Her mother smiled satisfied. "What do you think of Mr. Ramsey’s looks, Lydia?" "I never really thought about it. Why, does he appear unfavorable to you?" "A bit. Yes, certainly ill favored and nothing to you."
She wanted to laugh. It was obvious to Lydia that her parents did not think Mr. Ramsey rich enough to associate with their daughter. "I only wore the corsage because it is so beautiful. Don’t you agree?" "It’s not really appropriate for a girl your age. Now the violets Robert sent were very lovely. You make sure to wear those tomorrow." "I intend on it, but how did you come to know that he sent me the bunch of violets?" "He dropped by earlier, and happened to ask whether you had received the violets he had sent. I thought that was very considerate. If only he was a third cousin instead of a first, he would make an excellent husband for you." Lydia could have screamed in frustration. "I’ll watch Mr. Ramsey, Mother. I certainly wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea." "If you think so. If you aren’t interested in him?" "Not at all. He isn’t nearly handsome enough, and he isn‘t particularly well placed in the world from what I know of him." "Lydia, you shouldn’t say such things, even if they are true." "Yes, Mother." "There’s a good girl. Now go and get ready for bed: You’ve stayed up too late lately, it isn’t good for your constitution." "Yes, Mother. Goodnight, Mother." "Goodnight." Lydia pecked her mother’s cheek and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Instead of going directly to her room, Lydia knocked on Valerie’s door, feeling a tad guilty for having ignored her lately. She figured a private conference would set things right. Lydia called, "Valerie, it’s me…Lydia." Valerie opened the door. "Lydia! Come in." Lydia entered. "I have the most wonderful secret to tell you, that I had to come right over. It isn’t too late is it?" "No, do tell." Lydia sat down in an overstuffed armchair, as did Valerie. "I was sent this corsage by someone…well, you will never guess…only, you can’t tell anyone." "Oh! I won’t tell anyone. Who sent it?" "You know him." "Is it Mr. Ramsey?" Valerie smiled, and Lydia laughed. "No, it’s from Brent." "Brent! Oh, imagine! Brent! Why he is so scandalous!" "Yes, and handsome and rich and terrible! I know, but he sent me this." She looked down at her orchid. "I’m afraid it is beginning to wilt." "No, it’s beautiful. He must be very much in love with you to send you such a gorgeous corsage…and expensive too." Lydia laughed at the absurdity of Brent loving her. "Don’t laugh Lydia. I’ve never received anything as beautiful as that from a man." "He can afford it. Don’t think twice about that." "Yes, I suppose. Had you any notion that he admired you so?" "None. Although he always dances with me at the balls," Lydia lied biting her lip. "What will you do? What if he asks you to marry him?" "I don’t have to worry about that, Valerie. I’m afraid he doesn’t have upstanding intentions that we need to worry about." Valerie covered her mouth. "But I fully intend on wearing any and all lovely things that I receive. I don’t care who they come from or for what reason they have been sent." What had made Lydia squirm was that she knew she liked the corsage all the better because it had come from Brent, but she did not know why. Perhaps Brent was right, it was the thrill of being willful. Yet, somehow, that thrill did not really explain why she spent so much time thinking about him privately.
Before she had even left Valerie’s room she had decided to go knock on Brent’s door. She figured she had done it before, so nothing was really stopping her. She could tell him that the plan had been put into action or something or other. She hurried done the hallway, hoping she would not run into anyone she knew or cared about. She quickly rapped on the door and stood waiting. She waited for nearly a minute and knocked again. No one ever came to the door. After awhile it was just silly to stand there waiting: no one was in. Brent was out somewhere. ‘I guess I should have figured that. He is a grown man after all, and he does other things which I’m sure I don’t know about.’ Whatever she said failed to be comforting. She had never even considered that he would not be there, even though he had always seemed so distant, somehow today he had seemed more accessible to her. She walked back to her room slowly. ‘It just would have just afforded him one more opportunity to laugh at me.’ She opened her door, where her nurse was inside busying herself with Lydia’s bedclothes. Lydia did not care to speak with anyone at the moment.
"Did you speak with your mother?" "Yes, Madame." "You must be tired." "I am really. I just need some rest, and tomorrow I don’t have anything planned." "Well, don’t go swimming. I don’t think it’s good to go more than twice in a week." "Yes, Madame." "Do you want something to eat or drink before you go to bed?" "No thank you. I’m just going directly to bed. I think it is best after all." "All right. I’ll see you tomorrow morning." "Sleep well Madame." "And you too. Goodnight."
Lydia lay in bed for over an hour just thinking, considering the bewildering issues that she sometimes pretended did not exist. She knew her views were sharply diverging with those around her. She felt as if she were acting with everyone she knew. She did not need to act with Brent, however, and she definitely liked that. She was not ready, however to abandon the world as she knew it, however. And it appeared to her that other people somehow managed to play a difficult balancing game, where they acted their part, but also were authentically themselves. It seemed as if Brent spent much of his time acting, and Josephine’s flirting was a pleasant act. Somehow these two people who moved within society did not seem prisoners to its strictures, and Lydia admired their adeptness at such a fine maneuverings. Lydia did not quite know how to inhabit that liminal world. While she longed for independence, she also wished she had someone to lean against and to support her. Who could do that for her? Who could give her both that sense of belonging and freedom? Would she ever find it or them?
Chapter 13
Lydia sat alone in the dining room of the Bell, having dry toast and tea. Her mother had not shown up as she normally did to catch up on her daughter‘s day. She must have slept in, for some unknown reason. Lydia was not really disappointed per say, but she was a little surprised. She swallowed her toast and it scratched her throat as it went down. There were a number of people in the room having breakfast on this early Wednesday morning. ‘Two days till that awful party,’ she thought. Her Aunt and Uncle Pierce were having a party for about ten families. Lydia could not conceive where they were going to put all of those people. ‘Well, it will be very hot and disagreeable!’ Lydia shook her head: There had been a time when Lydia would not have minded a crowd, but it sounded unbearable to her at the moment. Lydia did not think Josephine was invited either. Of course if she asked her uncle, he would let la Comtesse come, but she did not want to cause the regular stir, which followed Josephine. ‘I’ll just stay out of everyone’s way.’ But she doubted she would be allowed to: There would be conversation, eating, and dancing. Men never seemed to realize when you did not want to dance, even if Lydia usually did enjoy it.
***
Lydia regretted having let Josephine alter her dresses. She leaned on the wall swaying to the music, wishing she had said ‘no’ when Josephine had said she wanted to change this and that on them. Now most of them were cut too low for Lydia’s taste and she felt as if men were always having a difficult time meeting her eye.
She had done her best to avoid people tonight, but it was extremely difficult in this crowded house. She had already spoken with Robert and there was not anyone else here that she found amusing in the least. She had even spotted Mr. Ramsey hanging about. She could not figure why her mother had not seen to the striking of his name from every event in which they were involved this summer in order to ‘protect’ Lydia. The last thing Lydia wanted to do was speak to Mr. Ramsey. The fates were with her so far. She suspected that he might be following Valerie about the house or talking with his stupid friends.
One puppy-eyed boy who was acquainted with Robert was standing across the room, and as a space cleared and he could clearly see Lydia, he smiled. "Who is that?" She heard him ask the boy next to him. "Robert’s cousin: Miss Pierce." She looked away hoping he would not come over. Why was she attracting so much attention lately? She had remembered what Brent had said "no man can resist a woman who is obviously in love with someone and desperately in need of gentlemanly attention." She had pouted at him, but it was obvious he had been teasing her. It was too late to leave the crowded room when Lydia saw the brown-eyed cow coming her way. He bowed. "May I introduce myself? My name is Lionel Morgan." "Nice to meet you Mr. Morgan," Lydia said, trying to pay attention to the boy. "Are you the Pierces’ niece?" "Yes, my father is Mr. Randolph Pierce, Mr. Pierce’s brother." "I’m a friend of Robert’s." "I see." "Would you care to dance with me, Miss Pierce?" "Oh, why…yes, I suppose." Mr. Morgan took Lydia’s arm and they made their way through the crowded room to the room where the piano was loudly accompanying the dancers. She saw Robert among the dancers and he winked at her when Lionel Morgan led her onto the dance space. It was useless to try and carry on a conversation with this boy while they were dancing, because he was concentrating on his dancing skills. When the dance was over Robert came over to the two of them.
"Hello cousin. Lionel." Robert winked again. "So what do you think of my cousin, Lionel?" Morgan blushed like a baby and Lydia had an urge to set Robert straight right there and then about this child. She could not stand the thought of anyone believing she liked this silly boy. How could she get away from him? "Have any of you ever met Brent Howard?" Robert and Mr. Morgan’s eyes grew large. Robert laughed, reassuring himself that his beautiful cousin just did not know how to make appropriate chat with Mr. Morgan so close: surely it was nerves. Neither of them made a move to answer her. She smiled cheerily. "He’s staying at The Bell, not so far from our apartments. I’ve seen the plaque with his name." Robert nodded. Mr. Morgan, not knowing how to respond, excused himself from the conversation.
Robert looked blankly at his cousin. "Is he the man?" He asked trying to lighten the subject. "No. Not at all. He’s just a child." "Why he’s two years older than you are, Lydia." "Is he?" She would have never guessed. "And he’s a university man. You could do worse, but of course if there is some other wonderful gentleman. Why don’t you give me a hint Lydia?" They walked toward the refreshment table. "I don’t know how everything fits in here. This is just a postage stamp of a house." "You’re avoiding my question." "A hint? Let me see…" "Your secret is safe with me, cousin." "You’re a dear. But I’m afraid you wouldn’t like it if I told you who sent me those flowers." "Wouldn’t like it?" "He’s a terrible cad," Lydia said light heartedly. Robert stopped cold. "Lord, Lydia, you don’t mean to tell me…that Brent Howard hasn’t been bothering you has he?" "Bother? Oh, I can take care of myself, thank you, if that’s what you mean. He just sent me flowers after having asked me to dance at a ball. Nothing really. You’re not going to run off to tell my father are you? Honestly, after I made so certain that there wouldn’t be a fuss." "Lydia, you’d tell me darling, if he is bothering you?" "You’ll be the first one that I call for, if he does. Honestly, he is harmless. I think he thought that it was funny. Can you imagine that?" "No." Lydia had never seen her cousin in so serious a mood. Lydia remembered her mother instructing her once never to tell a man that she could take care of herself. It is all good and well to be able to do it, her mother had said, but do not let them know it. That is what is so unappealing about a common girl who fends for herself. She thought Mr. Morgan would probably agree with that.
All of this polite society and boring conversation had Lydia wishing she could enjoy a good laugh with Josephine or even the rough talk of Brent. So upon returning to the resort that evening she impulsively sent a message to Brent’s room:
Dear Brent,
I am bored stiff. Must have someone to talk to. Shocked everyone by mentioning you at my aunt’s horrible party. Watch out for Cousin Robert, he’s determined to duel you. Do come relieve my boredom.
With Fondness,
Miss Lydia Jane Pierce
After Lydia had sent the message she immediately regretted it. She hoped he would not be in or at least have the good taste to wait and see her the following morning. Surely he did not think she had meant this evening. Why it was very dark out! She had begun to take her hair down, as her nurse might be by any moment to check on her, and she would find it odd that Lydia sat up in her gown with full toilet. The thought of Brent actually coming at this late hour made a shiver run down her back. She quickly put the pins back in her hair and went to her high-backed chair next to the door. Feeling very foolish and scared, Lydia pulled her feet up under her on the seat of the chair. If she had a choice she would change out of this altered evening dress just in case he did come. A demure day dress would hopefully be less tempting than the mess Josephine had made out of this evening gown. As it was, he was always staring at her without trying to hide the fact, but now she felt entirely exposed. She pulled at the bust line, which would not budge having been stretched tightly across her tiny waist. She could put on a dressing gown over it, but then it would appear that she was in her nightclothes, which was no better. She watched the hands on the gilded clock sitting on the table where she had first put the lovely corsages. Valerie had been pleased to accept the violets from Mr. Ramsey, because Lydia had not cared to wear them anywhere.
A knock came at the door, and Lydia had all she could do to keep from running to her bed and pulling the covers over herself. She steeled herself to get up and walk to the door trembling. It was difficult to turn the knob. ‘Perhaps it’s Madame and she has forgotten her key,’ she thought. Fate was not with her on this occasion. All of her fears were fulfilled when she saw Brent smiling at her from behind the door. "I never thought I would be called upon to rescue a maiden in distress. Good evening, Miss Lydia Jane Pierce." He bowed, pronouncing each of her names slowly. Lydia opened the door wordlessly and as he stepped in she quickly shut the door and locked it.
He raised his eyebrows at this behavior. "I certainly won’t have my nurse walking in on us," she said, regretting her words even as they spilled out. He sat down lazily without invitation, smiling with a glint in his eye. "What horrible tortures did you face at your aunt’s, my dear?" Lydia swallowed. "Sit down, dearest. You aren’t the most welcoming host, I must say. I find you only half trained, I’m afraid." Lydia sat down on the edge on her chair. She tried to breathe. "Tell me," he urged, "I am here to listen or talk…whatever you prefer. That is what I’m here for, is it not?" He was teasing her relentlessly. If only he would stop for a moment. If only she could think straight. "Don’t worry, my dear. No one saw me." "Good," Lydia said sighing in relief. Brent laughed. "What is this about Robert coming to fight me?" "I was just teasing really. I made him promise that he wouldn’t." "That is a relief," he said laughing at the absurdity. Lydia had a number of things she wanted to say, but it felt as if her tongue had grown thick and idle in her mouth. "You look very pale, my dear. Don’t you have any wine or something for your complexion?" "No, I’m not allowed to keep anything like that in my room." "You could have all you liked in my room." He was looking at her very queerly. "Did you call for someone else, before you did me?" "No, why?" He shook his head.
She looked down at her hands. The feeling of fright had washed over her and then disappeared. Now something more disturbing replaced it. Brent sat very still watching her. "I met a veritable child today and scared him off by mentioning you." Her voice had grown very quiet. "Really? He needed scaring?" "Very badly." Brent smiled not so cruelly as before. "Wasn’t la Comtesse with you to afford you any entertainment?" "No. She grows tired of such events. I suppose she stayed home tonight." "Don’t fool yourself, Lydia. I know this much about her: she is always out somewhere." Lydia did not answer, because she was afraid he was right. She had heard rumors that Josephine went places alone with men, who certainly were not friends of her family. "So are you," she whispered. Brent quit smiling and simply looked her in the eyes. He did not look angry, but very queer. Lydia stood up and walked past where he was sitting. "Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have liquor, but I do have some other things." He did not answer, and Lydia came to stand next to his chair where she looked down at him, waiting for his answer.
Before Lydia had time to fully realize what was happening, Brent had pulled her gently into his lap by her arms, and begun to kiss her first softly and then more passionately. Lydia was startled, but when the shock had passed, she felt as if she were going to melt, and she was glad that he was holding her as tightly as he was. He kissed her throat and stroked her hair, and Lydia put her hands behind his head. Brent had felt her stiff body go limp and continued to kiss her soft lips that were untouched by another. His hands clutched her about the waist and traveled up and down her back. Abruptly, Lydia stood up, and Brent made no move to stop her. She was breathing hard as he was, and she covered her mouth.
"Maybe I should go," Brent quietly said standing up. She shook her head ‘no,’ and threw her arms about his neck lifting her face to be kissed again, which it was, hungrily. Pressing her body against his, Lydia shook with passion and anger. She could not think, nor could she begin to unravel her feelings. Unbeknownst to Lydia, Brent was equally disturbed in both mind and body: his experience did not seem to do anything to protect him against this surge of feeling. Brent gripped at her neckline and kissed her throat, while Lydia clawed at his coat, which he obligingly threw off. Just beneath his shirt she could feel his muscles working, and she surprised herself by breathing his name. She felt absolutely sinful, but she could not think. She could not think. Kneeling, Brent held her about the knees. She quite nearly collapsed and they sat on the ground grasping at each other and kissing bits of flesh that were exposed. Lydia pulled closer to him, holding herself to him, as he did her. Their breathing was heavy and Brent was pulling at her dress, so that she knew the delicate seams must be ripping. Lydia, despite her innocence, knew that Brent wanted her, wanted to possess her bodily, and at the moment, she believed she could almost allow it, but something was bothering her. A small voice had started and now it was a shout. She said Brent’s name over and over to try and drown it out, but it would not be ignored. Lydia began to sob.
Brent pulled back from their embrace and wiped at her large tears and tucked the loose hairs hanging about her face behind her ears. He looked panicked. Lydia thought wildly, ‘he thinks I’m going to scream.’ "What’s wrong darling? What’s wrong?" Brent asked soothingly. Lydia could barely catch her breath to answer. "I don’t…I don’t…I don’t know." He eased her head onto his shoulder. "There there," he said rocking her gently. "It’s all right. Shh…shh…" Lydia tried to regulate her breathing, and as she concentrated on that she gradually began to stop crying. "I just can’t Brent. I just can’t." "All right…shh…" His large hands had become so gentle, when a moment ago they had been so animalistic. He stroked her head, and she became quiet. She put her arms around his trim waist. "I’m sorry, Brent." "Everything is all right, darling. Here, blow your nose." He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes, but she did not sit up, staying close to his chest instead. Lydia put her lips against his shirt and mouthed "I love you." Brent had no notion what had just been said, the barriers that had been broken, or the tear in Lydia’s heart that had just been made.
Lydia disentangled herself and stood up. "I’m going to clean up," she whispered. Her look showed Brent that she did not want him to leave, so he simply got up himself and planted himself on the balcony, where he knew it was so dark that no one would recognize him. Lydia wiped her face with a cool cloth and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her lips were a dark red. There was a crimson colored mark on her neck, that was barely visible. She peered at it and touched it. She did not know what it could be. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was already thinking how dreadful it was to love someone and not have that feeling be returned…she feared that fate more than anything else.
Something was making a terrible racket out in the hallway: She could hear it through the wall. There was a great deal of banging and shouting which was muffled. She walked back out into the main room, and saw Brent peering out at her from the balcony. The noise was even louder from this room, but she doubted Brent could hear it with the roar of the waves at his back. Lydia walked to the door and paused. If she was not mistaken, she thought the commotion was coming from directly across the hall: Valerie’s room. Without thinking, Lydia unlocked her door and pulled the door open.
What followed went by so quickly that she was not even aware of what took place. A tall young man kicked down Valerie’s door just as Lydia’s door opened, and Lydia’s scream drew the man’s attention. Seeing Lydia, the man grabbed a hold of her by the shoulders and knocked her against the wall next to her door. Lydia fell to the floor, apparently unconscious. Valerie was in her room screaming, when Brent came running out at the sound of Lydia’s scream. Brent saw Lydia’s crumpled body first, and then the man. With fierce vengeance Brent attacked the man, knocking him against the wall and hitting him in the stomach. By this time, the noise had drawn other people from their rooms, including the Pierces who had been asleep. Now Mrs. Pierce’s screams filled the hallway as she saw her daughter lying on the ground and the man being held against the wall by the infamous Brent Howard. The man was fairly out of his senses and was limp from the blows he had received, when Mr. Pierce and another man took his arms to drag him towards the front office, where the police would take him into their custody. Mrs. Pierce was still uselessly screaming over Lydia’s body, and Valerie was white as a ghost in the hallway.
"Miss Valerie," Brent addressed her panting, "are you all right?" Valerie nodded ‘yes’ in response. Brent then leaned over Lydia and scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a feather. "Mrs. Pierce, where shall I take her?" Mrs. Pierce covered her mouth in terror and pointed to her room. "Someone call a doctor!" Brent called to the onlookers. He carried Lydia’s limp body into the Pierces’ apartment and carefully set her down on the long couch. Mrs. Pierce was standing in the hallway, and she kept repeating the command Brent had given, "A doctor! A doctor!" Valerie stood in the doorway, cringing. Brent hung over Lydia, nervously watching her shallow breath. ‘I couldn’t make her love me,’ he thought over and over again. The doctor came in short order, and in all of the commotion, no one noticed that Brent brushed her forehead softly with his hand before he left the apartment.
