Faces of the Wind

Chapter 14

Lydia drew closer to the last lit candle in her room, bent over and puckered up to blow it, but she decided otherwise. It was still early for sleep, so she let that one candle illuminate her bedside, stood straight and walked to the tall windows, opened the drapes and peered at the darkness outside. It was a dry night though the sky hid behind a quilt of dark clouds during the day.

Her chest felt empty and her heart sunken. The window she was supposed to peer through on this day was that of her own house, not her family's. She did not dread her family's home but, just as well, she did not wish to become part of it like the columns and the chandeliers. She longed to run her own household, start a family and have a husband to whom she could snuggle up every night and every morning. She knew Jack did not love her, but believed love would find its way to his heart after marriage... if only he gave her the chance. She loved him and was ready to do her utmost to turn his world into utter bliss – if only he gave her the chance.

Tears blazed in her eyes, but she dabbed them with her lace cuff. She was not the woman to weep over a lost suitor—that is demeaning. Though she longed to love and be loved, she knew she was destined to do something greater than breed. She knew she could one day become the first woman physician in all England, whether society approved or not. When she became a professional nurse, she did not ask society's approval. She could not bear being a lady who sat around and did nothing besides her needlework, music and French lessons. And where was society when she got jilted at the altar in her white veil? And did society care for her happiness or state of mind at all? No, no one cared. Society's only job is to put women under constant scrutiny, wreck dreams, shame and stigmatize people, spread rumors and hold back ambitious women. Society can rot in hellfire.

There was a soft knock on the door followed by a gentle squeak. Her father, Arthur, peeked inside, carrying a candle in his other hand, but all he saw of his daughter was a dark figure.

"If you are not all set for bed, come down and have a drink with me, Lydia," he said in his deep, warm voice.

She smiled to herself. "No, papa, I have no plans to sleep just yet." She rose from her seat, walked to the candle and picked it up. Then, together, they walked out of her room and across the long corridor to the wide staircase. As they descended slowly and carefully, she stared at the large portraits of her ancestors that overlooked the hall below. She wondered if one day she would have her portrait among these and a descendant of the family would stare at it in a similar manner.

***

"By God, Arden," Lilley squealed the moment she saw her niece come through the front door, "where have you been all this time? And where is the doctor?"

"I got lost," she replied, her voice nonchalant. She took her coat off. "I could not find that Jinglings doctor." A maid hurried to help her with her coat and give her a pair of slippers.

"You should not have gone on impulse as you did! I was going to send one of the servants to fetch my doctor instead of this newcomer." Lilley watched her niece with concerned eyes and noticed that she has returned in different, low spirits.

"I am concerned, my dear," she added, now speaking in a lower tone, "is there anything going on between you and Adrian?"

A smirk puckered Arden's left cheek. "No, Aunt Lilley," she snorted, yet seemed somewhat absent-minded, "Adrian isn't the last man I would think about but, in fact, the man I shall never consider for any relationship beyond this unusual friendship we share."

Her aunt let out a sigh of relief.

"He gave me a fright and I ran on impulse," Arden added, "you know how I can be."