Page 10 of Hearts of Briarwall

Chapter 3

Lydia entered the sitting room where Florrie watched the front drive from a tall window, Nibs in her arms. The sight was both charming and unnerving, as it meant their company would soon be arriving. Still, she pushed forward.

“Will Nibs be joining us for dinner, then?” she asked.

Florrie turned. “Of course not. Ralston is taking him back to the kitchen while we dine. I’ve promised him a walk after.”

“Who, Ralston?” Lydia said, crooking her brow. “How thoughtful.”

Florrie tsked. “No,Nibs. Though Ralston is welcome should he need the air.”

Lydia smiled and approached the window. “It’s going to rain.”

“Shocking.”

Lydia muffled a laugh, then drew in a deep breath and released it. It did little to calm her nerves.

“You’ve nothing to fear, you know,” Florrie said. “You’re a capable woman and a natural friend to everyone.”

“Who says I’m afraid?” Lydia asked.

“You’re clenching your hands together as if awaiting eternal judgment.”

Lydia let go of her hands. “Why do these things bother me so? I like people. I just ... don’t likerules.”

“Bothersome things, really.”

“You seem to adore them.”

“I suppose I do to some extent.” She grinned. “Until I don’t.”

Lydia shook her head. Where Florrie was known to sometimes bend the rules or make them work in her favor, Lydia’s head spun attempting to recall them all. She liked ideas thatmade sense. And so many social expectations did not. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“As am I.” The sound of a carriage drew Florrie’s attention back to the window. “Here they are.”

Lydia watched as the carriage rolled to a stop, her brother in the driver’s seat instead of inside the carriage. She wasn’t the only odd member of this family. “Should we be gawking through the window like this?” she asked, peering to catch a glimpse of their guest.

“We cannot gawk through the wall, can we?” Florrie glanced down and swatted at Lydia’s hands, once again twisted in a death grip.

Andrew exited the driving seat side nearest the house, and their guest hopped down on the other side, so Lydia could not get a good look.

“I don’t even know why I’m nervous. He’s a knock-kneed bird-watcher, for all I know.”

“You like birds.”

“To eat.”

Florrie took her hand and turned her away from the window. “What he’s like does not matter. What matters is who he is to your brother and whether he feels welcome in your home. You only need focus on your responsibilities as hostess of Briarwall. Do that well, and the rest is up to Andrew. He is Andrew’s guest, after all.”

“Yes. Of course. You’re right.” Lydia often looked to Florrie for guidance in the ways of society.

Her own parents had died when she was six years of age and Andrew had been fourteen. As no living relatives were found, a neighbor, Mr. Markham Piedmont, had been named their guardian until Andrew was of age.

The two children had continued to live at Briarwall, while the Piedmonts provided them with nannies and servants to see to their care, tutors to provide education, and a steward to manage the estate. Mr. Piedmont had been kind, and visited more frequently than his wife did, but he was never truly the “father figure” the children needed.

As for Mrs. Piedmont, she was careful to keep a line between charity and familial connection with the Wooding siblings, preferring instead to dote on her only son.

After Mr. Piedmont’s death, the only connections kept alive between the two families were a regular monthly dinner at Briarwall and Andrew’s occasional social interactions with Lawrence Piedmont, who had grown up to be knighted during the Boer Wars. With some business of discovered African diamonds, he’d purchased his way out of service and returned home to his mother when word of his father’s untimely death reached him.

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