Page 4 of Victorian Bride

Mya smiled down at her plate. They sounded for all the world like an old married couple, though how she knew what an old married couple sounded like, she wasn’t entirely sure. The knowledge without source was rather frustrating. For an instant, she thought she could remember sharing such teasing, laughter and... But the memory was gone again almost before it had appeared, and Mya could not recall what she had been thinking of. She sighed and turned her attention back to Lottie and Eleanora, who were engaged in a spirited debate over just how many gowns qualified as too many.

“Mya will be on my side,” Lottie said finally.

“I think,” Eleanora chuckled, “That you are rather mistaken in that.”

Lottie gave her a narrow-eyed look, and turned a sweet smile on Mya. “Tell me, dear, what is your opinion on the matter? How many gowns are too many?”

“I don’t think I really have the experience to comment,” Mya said, taking a sip of tea.

That earned light laughter from both her hosts.

“Clever,” Eleanora said, with a conspiratorial smile for Mya. “A very eloquent answer.”

Mya hid a smile in her teacup.

“Doctor MacAslan will be here later in the afternoon to check on you,” Lottie said, the laughter faded from her voice and her dark eyes fixed on Mya. “I’m certain he will be quite pleased to see you awake. In the meantime, I thought perhaps we might take a stroll through the gardens, if you would be interested in such a thing? Or if you are tired you are welcome to return to your room, or rest on the couch in my studio, if you wish for someone to talk to.”

It was a lovely summer day, the first fluffy clouds just beginning to drift across the blue vault of the sky. “A walk in the gardens sounds wonderful, actually.”

Lottie’s smile lit up her face. “A garden walk it is, then. Will you be joining us, Eleanora?”

“Unfortunately, I have work to attend to, but perhaps another morning.” Eleanora set aside her napkin and rose from her chair, nodding a farewell to each of them in turn before she disappeared back into the house.

“She’s a much harder worker than I am,” Lottie said, in the tone of one confiding a secret. “Though of course we hardly need the money.”

“Does she enjoy it, then?” Mya asked, setting her fork and knife across her plate the way she had seen Eleanora do. Interesting that the two women’s focus was money. Why was that?

“Oh. Quite. Writing has always been rather a passion of hers.” Lottie too laid her utensils on her plate, though more carelessly than Mya had, and stood. “Shall we?”

Mya got carefully to her feet, leaning a little on the table with her good hand before she straightened up. “Lead on, then.”

As Eleanora had, Lottie slipped her arm through Mya's, and they walked together around the corner of the veranda and down a set of wide stone steps into the backyard.

“There is a greenhouse on the other side of the building,” Lottie said. “If you would like to visit that later.”

She paused, glancing down at Mya's bare feet, clearly visible beneath the hem of her nightgown.

“I forgot to ask you if you would like shoes,” she said. “I'm not certain I have any of a size that would fit you, but we could take a look, if you wish to wear them. There may at least be house slippers.”

Mya shook her head. She felt more comfortable barefoot. The grass was soft and cool under her feet in the shade of the tree that overhung the porch, and she wanted to feel the earth beneath her. Not the uncomfortable soles of someone else's shoes.

Lottie smiled. “I'm not wearing any either,” she admitted. “I rather hate the things, if I am honest. And there is hardly anyone to care here at the manor. The servants undoubtedly gossip about it, but it will be just one more eccentricity Lottie Alan has picked up. The general populace love to pretend as though they are scandalized by such things.”

“Do you think they aren't?” Mya asked.

They were moving out of the shade and into the sunlight, and she turned her face up toward it, basking in the warmth on her skin.

“I think they wish they had the courage to do it themselves. Which sounds arrogant, I suppose, but it is not as though it is an act of valor. Especially here, where I am allowed to do as I please, for the most part, so long as word of the worst offenses against society does not get out.”

There was a quirk to her mouth that said the explanation was at least a little exaggerated, though Mya wondered how much of it was a joke, and how much of the joke was truth.

“It’s your own property.”

“Yes,” Lottie agreed. “And since James died and left it to me, I’ve found that I do not care so much for what others think.”

James. Mya didn't ask who he was, despite the way the question was burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I can see you are dying to ask.” Lottie laughed. “James is my late husband. We were married quite young, and he didn’t live to see our second wedding anniversary.” Her expression softened to something almost sad. “He was a good man, despite being English, and left me more than was required of him. Most are not so lucky as I was. He was so sweet. So handsome. So… James.”