Page 55 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
“Very well,” she said, heading for Lydia’s trunks. They hadn’t yet been unpacked, so Hester just fished out a pink dress from it. “Do not fret about your things. I shall unpack them while you are at the school.”
Lydia nodded.
“Thank you, Hester,” she said.
The lady’s maid nodded.
“Of course, milady duchess,” she said.
Lydia winced. She supposed that, if she didn’t go back to Michael, she would no longer be a duchess. But she didn’t say as much. Her title didn’t matter anymore, least of all to her. Especially if she didn’t have a loving husband from whom she had received it. Hester dressed her quickly, and then the two women headed down the stairs and to a carriage that would take them to the school.
***
The hall which provided the location for the new school on the grounds of Strawbridge Manor stood proudly on a lush green hill, its sturdy stone walls illuminated by the golden hues of the setting sun. Within its grounds, a new school had recently been established, the brainchild of the kind-hearted Lydia. Since her heart had been broken, she had resolved to devote herself to the education of the children of Strawbridge, and in doing so, find a new purpose in life. But being back on the same grounds as the house she had just been sharing with her husband was devastating.
As Lydia approached the school, her heart fluttered with both excitement and trepidation. She hoped that the school was faring well under the guidance of the newly hired teacher, Miss Carrick. She wanted desperately to see the children thriving, and for her efforts to be a beacon of hope in her otherwise gloomy existence.
The converted schoolhouse was a modest building, constructed of the same stone as the castle itself. As Lydia pushed open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by the sight of several young faces, all beaming with enthusiasm. Their expressions were a testament to the positive environment that Miss Carrick had managed to create.
“Ah, Lady Strawbridge!” Miss Carrick exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Welcome to our humble schoolroom. The children have been eagerly awaiting your visit.”
Lydia smiled warmly, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of the eager young scholars.
“I am delighted to be here, Miss Carrick,” she said. “I am eager to see how the children are progressing.”
As if on cue, the students jumped to their feet to demonstrate their newfound knowledge. A blond-haired little boy stepped forward, smiling proudly.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”
Lydia beamed at him, clapping softly.
“That was William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18,” she said. “I am very impressed.”
