Try To Remember | Hugh & Lydia
lorlydia
All her life, Countess Lydia Greville had been called many things: demure, witty, cutting, delightful, the list could go on.
But as the young woman stared down at the letter from her parents she held lightly in shaking hands, she could do nothing but focus upon the one word they had written which was an honorific none had placed upon her before…
disappointing… shirking of duties… a Catalonian of all people!
Lydia swallowed a small lump in her throat and took a deep breath when her lady looked up from her own missives and asked after what ever could be wrong. “It’s all right, my lady. It’s just a very sweet letter from Mother and Father. I miss them terribly. It’s such a shame that there is so much to be done with the renovations of Ollvares that they cannot attend the coronation. They send their love, by the by.” All of it lies, but what else could she say? That she had fallen deeply in love with a man who has assisted in the upheaval of an entire country?
Not only that, but she had been silly enough to have first fallen in love with him by his voice? By the touch of his hand against hers when he had so graciously returned her mask? How perfectly she had fit in the circle of his arms as they danced?
Shaking the memory from her mind, Lydia forced a smile to her face and stood quickly, folding the letter and placing it in a pocket. Her hands clapped together as she looked from Arabella to Jane and Diana. “Now, it seems to me that such a studious development of correspondence as we four have done is deserving of a small treat. Shall I take a small trip to the kitchens and see if I can procure us some tea and cakes?” There was a twinkle in the girl’s eye as everyone murmured an approval and set her to the task.
“I shall return shortly!” She called over her shoulder, closing the door to the sun room behind her and beginning to hum a soft tune under her breath. Yet still the dark loom of her parents words hovered over Lydia as she walked and a hand went unconsciously to grasp the letter still hidden in her pocket.
It was this way that the stranger found her, mind deep in thought, still humming to herself as her feet trod the well-known path to the kitchens.
Lydia blinked in surprise as the young man called out to her and swept into a large bow, daring to ask why she, a lady to the queen, was in the interior apartments.
“I should ask the same of you, sir…” She replied, with a bit of a laugh and a raising of an eyebrow. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who doesn’t… quite seem like he belongs here. You’re certainly no Avenian. I can tell by your voice. I’m rather good at remembering a voice, you see.” The smile that had found its way upon her lips by the teasing of the–admittedly, somewhat handsome–young man, faltered a bit at his asking after…a ribbon?
“A… ribbon?” She repeated, brow furrowing in confusion as she looked about herself for any ribbons that might have fallen from her gown, while a hand lifted to her hair to assure herself that the light pink ribbon she’d woven there was still firmly in place. “I… do not seem to have misplaced any ribbon, nor am I in need of… new ribbons… so I’m… not quite certain I understand the manner of your question, sir.”
Lydia looked at the man with the blank look of confusion and concern that anyone might give a stranger who comes upon them and asks a series of totally benign but entirely stupefying questions.
“Are… Are you looking for someone, sir? I… may be able to point you in the right direction, as, pardon me for saying so, but you seem entirely lost. Are you here for the coronation? If so, I’m certain we can find one of the stewards and they can direct you.” She gestured down the hallway towards the center of Glorianus, another bright smile settling upon her lips. “I’m headed to the kitchens at the moment, as it were, and I’d be happy to guide you.”
If anything, it was a strange and beautiful coincidence, this meeting. After all, somehow, the terrible letter in Lydia’s pocket had altogether been forgotten.
She’d been humming, a tune that was familiar to him. He had not heard it since that night when he’d held her close, dancing and dancing and dancing as though there were no tomorrow, only the now, the precious now in which they were together and nothing else in the world mattered. It was a moment in time to which he returned often, hovering in the breathless moments, the weight of her eyes, the touch of her hand…
Yet, at last, at long last, here she was again…and it was as if that night had never occurred. She spoke to him of her capacity to remember a voice - as though it meant something directly to him - but he did not know what to make of it. Her behavior suggested she did not remember - but those words suggested that she did. But perhaps that was worse still for, if she did recall, it plainly meant nothing to her.
Her words cut him, their suggestion of familiarity, coupled with her dismissive behavior was a wound, but he forced a gallant smile nonetheless. After all, she’d taken his words, he realized suddenly, as an insult. Horrified, he rushed to rectify the situation. “Heavens, no!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Please, madam, do not think I meant to suggest I thought you out of place here, it is merely that I might have expected to see you at Olivares and did not anticipate the pleasure of your company here. I’ve not been much in the way of information, of late,” he added. Recuperating at a cottage far into the country, in a foreign nation, cut off from everyone he’d ever known, tended to do that to one. “I did not know you had come so far from home.”
Her teasing tone and her sweet smile encouraged him. His own smile transformed into a genuine one. “I am, indeed, a touch out of place here, as you see,” he admitted with a laugh. “You are quite correct, my lady. As there is no one here to do so, perhaps my lady will allow me to formally introduce myself?” he inquired. “I am Hugh of Pembourne. I, myself, have also come a long way to be here. I have but lately arrived with His Royal Highness, Prince Alexander of Catalonia, to see Queen Arabella crowned.” He bowed low over her hand, raising his own beneath it to gently cradle it as his lips touched her glove, as if by some sacrament to leave an indelible mark on his soul.
Yet, the feeling fluttered and fell like lead in his chest at her words. He laughed, an uncomfortable sound, and shook his head. Fool, he thought. What a fool I am! “Pardon me, my lady,” he chuckled. “It was a jest, though ill-framed, I see now. Let us forget all about it.”
She looked so utterly concerned for his mental and emotional well-being that, in that moment, Hugh decided she must not remember. Heavens! he thought. Do so many suitors lay their hearts entire at her feet that she so readily forgets the offertory? Biting his lip, he realized he’d been quite silly to imagine anything different. How could so sublime a creature experience anything else? Yes, he’d been a fool, indeed, to think that some other gallant had not, by now, made off with her heart. Besides, who was Hugh to offer her anything? Oh, yes, he had a fine pedigree and an impressive string of titles enough to entice any young lady…but there were others even now in possession of his home, moneys, and all his possessions. For all that he could claim, he had only a claim and nothing now to offer.
“Thank you,” he replied, doing his utmost to conceal how dejected he felt, forcing his countenance to remain cheerful. “But I am quite all right. I was looking, previously, for His Royal Highness the Prince, but…I’ve rather settled on a more favorable notion of taking a stroll in the gardens. I’ve heard so much of their beauties and I think, just now, I prefer the taste of fresh air. I don’t suppose you could, in fact, point me in their direction?” When she asked why he was here, the air caught in his throat. I hardly know, he thought, looking into her blue eyes before casting his glance away again. “We…That is, the late King had promised my Prince the hand of his daughter…but we have arrived in time for her coronation. As a result, we are here for that, yes, but…we are here for that other purpose, as well…Though it is no longer clear just how the matter stands.” As, he thought, Is true of many other matters…
“But I can assure you,” he added with a friendly smile. “We have already been conducted to our rooms. I’ve just been out to take in the sights of the White City. One hears so much, it is always a pleasure to experience.”
There it was again...
For the briefest of moments, a look of something that could only be described as disappointment crossed the stranger’s face.
Lydia’s heart contracted a little at the sight and mentally cursed herself for whatever transgression she had made. For a moment or two she quickly replayed her words, looking for a misstep.
Or perhaps was the look instead embarrassment? He certainly was tripping over himself to apologize for his affront to her sensibilities. Yet, something tugged at Lydia’s mind, confusion wrapping around her once more when he mentioned her home.
“Have... Have we been introduced, sir?” She asked with another confused laugh. “I had not thought that many people from Catalonia would know of Olivares, let alone recognize me as its Countess at sight.” Slowly, though, a teasing and almost wicked grin spread across her lips, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Or at least, I would certainly hope I have not earned such an infamous reputation as to be recognized wherever I go. It will certainly make market and festival days simply impossible to enjoy. However shall I manage to be merry if I’m beset at all sides?”
A throaty laugh echoed off the stone walls as Lydia pleased herself thoroughly with her own joke. She shook her head once as the final waves of her fit made Lydia’s shoulders shiver before turning her blue gaze back to the man before her.
It was a great relief to see that he too had begun to smile once more. It lit up his face like the soft light of dawn, Lydia noticed. His eyes glimmered with it, dappled sunbeams on the surface of the fountain in her favorite rose garden at Olivares....
Something squeezed in her chest again at this realization, though not quite like it had at the crushing feeling of having disappointed those she cared most for. The feeling intensified as the stranger insisted on introducing himself and thereby took her gloved hand in his own.
It was simply that something felt so... familiar about the action. The gentleness of his touch, the almost reverent way that he bent his head to her. The kiss to her hand that seemed to be nothing more than a breath of air upon her silk-covered skin. All of it very like that night...
But it couldn’t have been this man at all. Lydia was certain that had been Charles! She remembered his voice so well!
And yet...
It, in fact, took Lydia by such surprise that it took her a moment or two to remember that a proper lady does not stare with their mouth hanging slightly open when provided with an introduction. That instead they must provide their own in reply, or else how would anyone ever meet each other?
“Ah, yes! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Verdun.” She said--perhaps a bit too quickly--as she dropped into a slight curtsy, bowing her head gently in his direction. “I am Lydia Greville, Countess of Olivares, though it seems that you knew as much already.” The teasing smile appeared once more as she leaned towards him and whispered in a conspiratorial manner. “I hope can assure you by informing you that I left it in the very capable hands of my mother and father. They endeavor every day to maintain the impeccable air of gaiety that I demand always remain there. It’s quite difficult to wait upon the queen and entertain an entire castle all on one’s own you know.”
At his mention of his being in the palace for the coronation along with the overthrown prince, Lydia’s eyebrows raised in surprise and not an inconsequential amount of interest. “I see! Of course, the entire castle was in an uproar when word of the prince’s return reached us. I can see now why you have taken to wandering about on your own. I’m sure it’s been quite tiring to be pestered with questions of where you and the princes have been, let alone what your reasons are for it.”
Lydia herself was not quite sure where her loyalties lay in this situation. After all, if Prince Alexander were to reclaim the throne and his engagement to Bella, whatever would happen to Charles? Would they send him away? Would he be executed?
All of it was too much to think about. Too many horrible possibilities...
Her thoughts were brought back to the present and the realization that Hugh had continued to speak to her with the words I’ve rather settled on a more favorable notion of taking a stroll in the gardens.
“Oh yes!” Her face lit up once more. “The gardens here are exceptionally beautiful! I’m ashamed that no one has shown you them yet! The White City is lovely, of course, but the gardens are truly the greatest secret of the entire country. Especially if one is hoping to avoid meeting with a prince.” Lydia grinned at him and continued on, nodding her head down the hallway she had been heading towards to their left. “I’d suggest starting with the rose gardens and maze myself, if I were you. I can show you the way there if you’d like. The kitchens are just beyond them so it’s of no trouble at all.”
And, if Lydia was honest with herself--which of late she was less apt to do--she found that she hoped to learn a little more about this very strange man. Or at the very least to try and discover why she felt like perhaps she had met him before.
Why else would his introduction feel so unnecessary?
