Fortunately, just as Lydia was about to send another note to Robert—this time asking why he had not called—Sunday happened upon them. The Bath Abbey church was within easy walking distance and required no carriage, which was just as well as the coach and landau had been sent back to Roseberry to accommodate the Kembles’ journey.
It was the first time that Lydia had been in the church, which had begun its days as a monastery, and she found that she was much impressed. She spent a fair amount of time staring at the fan vaulting in the nave and then switching her gaze to the vivid display of stained glass above the altar. Her mother elbowed Lydia whenever her inattention to the service was overlong, but the drone of the parson’s voice was not engaging. Lydia’s eyes continued to wander around the church unabated.
Eventually, her gaze lowered to the congregation. She paused to observe the straight and stiff father at one end of a pew, the round-shouldered mother at the other, and five children between them. There was a group of ladies with a marvelous display of bonnets, each more splendid than her neighbor’s. And then there was … a young gentleman seated across the aisle, two rows ahead. Only a slight portion of his profile was visible, but Lydia was almost certain … yes. Her heart’s steady rhythm began to quicken, and her breath caught in her chest.
It was Robert.
Swallowing, Lydia tried to control her breathing. She felt Cora shift in her seat and then heard her chuckle softly. Prying her eyes away, Lydia fixed her gaze on the parson, who was standing in the ornately carved pulpit. She had no idea of the subject of his sermon or how long said sermon continued. Lydia could think only about Robert sitting so near. Was he aware of her? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? It had been four days! Would he stop to speak to them after the service? What would she say?
All too soon, and not soon enough, the congregation rose for the final hymn. As they did, Lydia glanced over—casually—to find that Robert had turned slightly for a quick look in her direction. Their eyes locked, and Lydia could see that he was very aware of her presence; his glorious smile and nod said so.
With blinding realization, Lydia knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that she was in love with Mr. Robert Newton, Apprentice in Law. Not a light fancy, not an inclination—but a deep, forever type of love. There was no going back from this; her world had just changed.
Forced by convention to face forward once again, Robert turned away … but Lydia continued to stare at the back of Robert’s head—falling deeper and deeper into this thrilling pool of emotions, elation and contentment rising to the fore.
All her hesitance, all her indecision about Barley disappeared. She could not marry him. Ever. To live a calm, staid life with none of this excitement would be a prison sentence. Being Lady Aldershot was not worth the price, and if that would disappoint her father—he would have to deal with it as best he could on the other side of the veil. This was her life.
Lydia would send Barley a letter this very afternoon. She would ask him to visit her sometime before the ball; it would be most unkind to deliver such news any other way. It had to be done in person. She would want to impress upon him that they could remain good friends and agreeable neighbors. They could still rely on each other’s goodwill, and there would be no need for awkwardness whomever he chose to marry … especially when a generous bridal gift could be applied against his debts.
She would not mention Robert. Barley need not know that Lydia had fallen completely and surprisingly in love with someone else. No need to admit that she had been wrong, that she was, indeed, capable of a deep, abiding romantic love.
Lifting her chin, Lydia joined the congregation in full voice as she sang “Ode to Joy.”
*
Robert crossed Pulteney Bridge with a light step. He grinned at the boy raking odiferous horse manure to the curb and tipped him well for his service. He nodded—with a grin—to the puzzled driver of a hack heading into the city. And he bowed—with a grin—as he stepped aside to allow the weary-looking woman with two toddlers to pass.
None to see him would realize that Robert had fallen under the hooves of a racing carriage and risen from the other side unscathed—metaphorically speaking, of course. He looked whole and hearty now, but until Lydia signaled a desire to reestablish their friendship, he had been in great danger of being deep in the doldrums.
He had made a mistake—a terrible mistake. Something on the order of a calamitous mistake! Robert would readily admit it. The problem was that the mistake had been so significant that Robert feared he might never get the opportunity to apologize properly. Bouquets of flowers were hardly a substitute.
All that had changed the day before.
While his conversation with Lydia outside the church had been brief, it had filled him with hope. Her smiles, her gestures, her stance, all were signs of a return to their previous footing. Yes, he could apologize, and she would forgive him.
Had he not accompanied Cassidy to the service with the Grangers and Miss Brownlow in tow, Robert would have been able to express his regrets right there and then. However, he had been so encumbered and found that he was pulled toward the Pump Room after the briefest of brief conversations with Lydia. They discussed something about the weather and the well-being of the family. Robert could hardly remember; so focused on the brightness of her smile and the jubilance shining in her eyes, Robert could barely articulate a word … or listen to himself … oh bother; he could barely do so now, his thoughts were bouncing around his brain with little rhyme and no reason.
Still, of one thing he was certain. Lydia had every right to be thoroughly put out with his high-handed behavior in the Brownlow affair. He used the word affair with all its implications. How else could the matter be described? Cassidy was doing his best to gain Miss Brownlow’s interest, implying that he was disappointed to find that the young lady was no longer on the market. As a firstborn son, with title and lands in the wait, Cassidy would be a superior catch for someone who prized position over affection.
It was a charade, of course, bent on encouraging Miss Brownlow to become disengaged. It was also a tightrope from which Cassidy could fall should his attentions become too overt. A challenge or, worse yet, a marriage trap waited for Cassidy should he step in the wrong direction.… Though Cassidy saw it as a lark.
The surprise meeting in the park had been part of the charade—meant to awaken Mr. Granger to the manipulation of his sister and fiancée. It had done the job but hurt Miss Shipley and infuriated Lydia in the process. Not one of his finer moments. Right after he apologized profusely, Robert would explain the whole to her. They both had Miss Shipley’s best interests at heart. He would be forgiven, and then his world would be righted again.