In the Brief Eternal Silence (80 page)

She hesitated, her blue eyes clouding with
inward thought, or perhaps memories. “He had his scruples,” she
murmured, “but only when it was convenient to him. And when he
first put those scruples aside, I thought, in all my foolishness,
that it was because he loved me beyond even decency.”

The Dowager's old heart trembled as one's
heart would when seeing the first ashes waft up from a volcano,
knowing there was no where to run or hide from the eruption that
would come. But still she nudged the woman in front of her with her
words, and even she did not know if it were loathing in her voice
or sympathy, compassion or condemnation. She only knew she had to
be certain. “Lydia. You must tell me the all of it, do you
understand, Lydia? Now is the time for you to tell all.”

“Confession. Yes, yes. Confession,” Lydia
whispered. “And I admit that I am grateful that it is you I am
speaking to, for I always feared that St. James would only kill me
and would never allow me to tell. . .” and she looked into the
flame of the lamp, “why. . . That he would have it all worked out
in his mind already. All the obvious reasons, all of them making
his father seem entirely victim and myself entirely,” and she
swallowed, “at fault.”

The Dowager asked, “You spoke of William
being adulterous. I was not aware of that circumstance, Lydia. Are
you sure?”

“Of course I am sure!” Lydia snapped. Her
blue eyes went from the lamp to the Duchess. “Why do you think
there were ten long years between his first child and the coming of
his second? Because his own wife would not even share his bed. She
knew he was having an affair. She knew that he was in love with
some one else and she was not willing to compete, of which I do not
blame her. She only stepped aside and amused herself. She was my
friend before she was my sister-in-law and it quite tore me
apart.”

Ashton shifted and the Duchess was grateful
he was there, for her heart was pounding and her head was pounding
and her blood was pounding in her ears.

Lydia continued, “And you blamed her all
those ten long years, thinking to yourself that there was something
wrong with her for her not to conceive again and give you more
precious grandchildren. And all along, it was my fault. For I told
her, you know. I told her that her husband was unfaithful to
her.”

“I did not blame her,” the dowager returned,
her frail voice weak and small. “He traveled a great deal. I
understood that their time together may have been curtailed to such
a degree that another pregnancy on her part was made
difficult.”

“Yes,” Lydia intoned. “He traveled a great
deal, but it was not always on his business for the crown. He was
with his mistress. He was with me.” The tears ran down her face,
but she neither snuffled nor bawled nor made any notice of them,
and it was quite, quite unlike the Lydia the duchess knew, who
always made a great show of her distress and was most annoying
about it. The drops only ran, collecting rice powder in their path
and leaving two naked streaks on her cheeks.

The Duchess, feeling faint and overwhelmed,
only said, “I had no idea, Lydia. I had no idea at all.”

“I have wanted to tell you for years,” Lydia
replied. “But I knew how you would react. You would blame me. You
would blame me for his adultery. You would blame me for telling her
and preventing her becoming with child again. And I admit that I
put my own happiness first. For in retrospect, I know I should not
have told her. But I convinced myself that it was my duty to her as
her friend to tell her. And of course, I did not tell her it was me
that her husband was being indiscreet with. But I know I meant her
harm all the same, for I told her just days after St. James was
born.” And Lydia gave a wistful smile. “That is how I know that I
meant her harm, for I could not have picked a more vulnerable time
for her, you see. But at the time, I convinced myself that I was
doing it for her.”

Her eyes met the Duchess's stare again, and
they were a little startled, as though she had forgotten and
remembered her presence simultaneously. “Do you see what love can
do, Lenora? Drive you to where you would stab your own friend in
the back for you wish to have what they have?”

The Duchess swallowed and said, “I know very
well what love can do, Lydia. I have seen it bring about great
good, and I have seen it bring about great evil. And all of it in
the name of love.”

Lydia made no answer and the dowager asked,
“What did it bring you to do, Lydia?”

But Lydia only smiled. “No, Lenora. That bit
of melancholy recollection is all you shall get. There will be no
further revelations tonight. You have only caught me out on a weak
moment, I confess, for the lamplight in the early morning hour will
do that to anyone.” She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief again.
“I may have been a fool for love, but I assure you I never killed
your son over such. Nor his wife. For she was my friend, as I had
said.”

The duchess was perplexed and all that
feeling she had of holding her breath went from her, and she was
left to sit and stare at her daughter-in-law in bafflement.

Lydia seemed oblivious to her, or of the
conversation they had just had. She rose and began packing again.
The duchess watched her and tried to understand what was missing.
Was St. James correct? Or had he made a gross mistake? If only he
had confided in her. If only he had told her of what evidence he
had. Surely it was not just some indication that Lydia had an
affair with his father? St. James could not have based his
presumption upon only that!

Lydia again wiped her face, and the Duchess
realized that she was still quietly crying, even as she packed.

And something about the handkerchief in
Lydia's hand tugged at her memory.

Something so clear and obvious that only its
very evilness made it seem impossible—

Into the quiet movements of Lydia's packing,
the Dowager spoke. “Yes. I've no doubt you loved my son, Lydia. But
was that before or after you had already made your plans? Was your
love for him the start of your schemes, or was it an unforeseen
consequence?”

Lydia turned with such abrupt fury in her
face that only then did the Dowager realize that Lydia had been
playing upon her emotions with her tale as only the most masterful
of liars were able to do. And if she had not been sitting down, she
would have collapsed. But all the same, she held her eyes steady
upon her daughter-in-law. “It was the title you craved for your own
son! For although we did not yet know you were with child, you
did!”

Lydia gave her a look of incredulity and the
Dowager nearly thought she was mistaken again!

Then Lydia laughed, and it was not the
gentle, pleasantly honed laugh of an incomparable, but a bitter,
razor sharp one full of contempt and scorn. “And I have always been
the one thought of as the fool!” she exclaimed. “Oh yes! I know you
all think I am stupid! I've put up with the exasperated looks for
years! 'Oh, I know she can be insufferable at times but I do not
think she has the wit to know better',” she mimicked. “Dull Lydia.
Dim Lydia. Vain Lydia. All she ever had was her looks and we must
indulge her. Fools. The title was only the icing on the cake and
the death of your precious grandson would have only been a very
nice bonus!”

The Dowager panted as if she had just made
this speech instead of Lydia. “Why?” she demanded and banged her
cane. “Tell me why!”

“Why?” Lydia asked. “Ask your grandson,
Lenora! Ask him why! Vengeance! Vengeance is why! Why else do you
think I am packing? Why else do you think that I fear him? Because
I know what lengths he will go to in seeking vengeance. I know what
lengths I went to!”

Lydia was beyond caution in her contempt. It
sizzled from her in molten words. “Your son betrayed me three
times, Lenora. Three times!

“I was but sixteen when he seduced me. Does
that shock you? Yes, my first season in London. I was the
incomparable of the season and he was already married to Margaret,
two years older than I. And I had met him of course, before this
through her, for as I said, we were friends. But that had been the
year before, and he had been blind to any but his new wife. But
then I came to London to seek my own husband, and of course,
Margaret being as she was, they were at every party, every
function. And by the end of my first season, I was ruined, by him.
And what did he have to lose, I ask you? Nothing. And I had
everything to lose, for how could I marry when I was compromised?
Everyone thought I was biding my time until the next year, waiting
for a better catch. And the men swarmed around me and I wanted no
one but him!

“And he did love me. It was not his fault
that he had already married before I had my coming out. It was not
his fault that he was a rare man that was not satisfied with the
fact that I was an incomparable, but sought me out because he
discovered that I was keenly intelligent also. He was not only
unfaithful to Margaret with me in body, he was unfaithful to her in
his mind and his wit, in our discussions of politics and religion,
finance and history.

“And then Morty came home from University.
And of course, he was as all the rest. He thought I was beautiful,
but he had no further interest in me than that. Had no interest in
my mind or what I thought or how I felt. But still, even then, I
saw that it may one day become necessary. . . So where I put off
the others, I allowed him to court me. But I hemmed and hawed, for
I had been lucky for years by then. Dante had been born, of course,
but I forgave William his birth, for Margaret was already pregnant
when our affair began. But there were no other children and I knew
it was because William was with me only and not his wife. But I
feared that I would become with child as well, so I kept Morty
where I wanted him, for years, the fool!

“And then it paid off. For I found myself, of
course, with child. William's child. And how better to legitimize
that babe than to marry William's own brother! He would have the
proper last name and of course he would look like a Larrimer, for
he was a Larrimer, and as there was but one heir between my child
and William's title, my child's rightful title, it was a promising
circumstance. But still, you see, I was content to leave well
enough alone. Content to know that if something happened naturally
my child would inherit and if he did not, well, he was still an
Earl.

“And so I allowed Morty to compromise me, for
I could not have him questioning the father of the child, and I was
very frightened that he would not marry me then, but he only pushed
up the wedding date and told everyone that we had courted for four
years and that he would tolerate no further delay. And as I was
nearly twenty-six, I am sure my family was only relieved rather
than scandalized.

“So you see, I had given ten years of my life
to William already. I was with his child. I had compromised myself
with his own brother and schemed in great detail to insure his
child's future. And how am I repaid for this? A month after our
wedding, much too early for me to be able to decently announce that
I am expecting, William's own wife stands up at the Christmas
dinner table and announces that she is with child!”

Lydia paused, breathing hard. “I do not even
know why I am telling you this,” she said. “Except that I have
wanted to throw your son's behavior in your face for years! The man
of great scruples set his scruples aside long enough to ruin a
debutante! That was sin number one, Lenora, and I forgave him for
it. For he was in agony. I admit he was in agony also, all those
years. But still, well, we shall get to that part in a moment. You
will see how fully he betrayed me! How he was willing to forgo his
scruples when it suited his wants, but not when it suited mine.

“Can you guess what sin number two was,
Lenora? No? I can see you are quite speechless! I can see that you
think I am mad. Sin number two was his adultery. Not to Margaret,
for he had no care for her after all these years other than
fondness and guilt. No. He was adulterous to me! He got her with
child again after he had sworn to me time and again that they had
not shared a bed since the first row they had after St. James was
born.

“And not only had he betrayed me in this
manner, I came to understand in my rage that he had also managed to
shuffle back my own coming child, our child, another step from his
rightful title and his rightful inheritance!

“And even this, I would have been willing to
forgive. Even after this I was so blinded with love for him that I
would have continued as we had been!

“But there was one more betrayal. And it came
damningly upon the heels of that Christmas dinner. That very same
evening we met in secret. He had shared a great deal with me about
his work, and why should he not have for I fully understood it,
every nuance of it. And I knew why he had been in China. I knew
that the East India Company was lobbying for war so that they could
continue to sell their precious opium. I had already bought every
holding in that company that I could lay my hands on and people
were dumping them right and left as the rumors flew of the company
going bankrupt if action were not taken. I had done this already,
you see, and urged him to do the same.

“But that night he advised me to buy no more
and would not tell me more than that. But I pried. And I was
ruthless, for the hurt of his wife's pregnancy was sore upon me,
and I knew that I could see to my son's future beyond anything
William would have for his other children if only this one gamble
could be made to pay off, and I sensed in him that he would do
something that would jeopardize it. And I went to his study when I
could gain no more from him and I pried into his attaché and found
the notes he had written to Queen Victoria herself.