With This Ring by Carla Kelly Read Free Book Online

that is your
biggest problem, Lyddy dear,” Kitty said as she smiled at her
reflection. “You have no imagination. You never would have thought
to faint, would you?”
    Of course not, Lydia thought. I was
too busy taking care of a dying man. Her hands were rock steady as
she combed her sister’s hair.
    “ I thought not, Lyddy,” Kitty said
as she raised her chin and turned her face to this side, and then
that. “Tell me, sister, which is my best side? I need to know, so I
can claim the chair that shows me to best advantage.”
    “ I rather think one is like the
other,” Lydia said.
    “ No, silly! I have studied this
matter for hours in front of the mirror, and can reach no
conclusion.” She looked at Lydia in the mirror, her eyes
anxious.
    I have spent an afternoon watching a
man die, and you want to know which side of your pretty face is the
prettiest? Lydia thought. No wonder I am so tired. “It is your
right side, Kitty,” she said finally as she pulled back her
sister’s mass of shining gold curls and anchored it expertly with
pins and ribbon. “I am certain of it.”
    Kitty turned her head so her right
profile showed. After a moment’s earnest concentration, she smiled
at herself in the mirror. “You are right!” She leaped up and kissed
Lydia. “Oh, this is such a weight off my mind!”
     
    Kitty left an hour later in the
company of the young gentlemen and ladies who had braved the rough
society of Wellington’s soldiers to spread about a little hypocrisy
as their patriotic duty. From her accustomed spot at the top of the
stairs, Lydia watched them go. Mama had made no mention of dinner,
and she did not wish to press the issue. Lydia returned to her
room, tired right down to her toes.
    She stood at the window for a long
moment, trying to get up the energy to remove her dress. She closed
the draperies finally, wishing that when she opened them, the view
would be foggy Devon. “Or Northumberland,” she said suddenly.
“Laying aside damp sheets and too much oatmeal, I imagine you will
be glad to get home to clean air, and nothing more dangerous than
Highlands cattle on your hills, Major Reed!”
    It is something to look forward to,
she thought as she unbuttoned her dress and stepped out of it.
There were few pins in her hair; Mama had shaken most of them loose
downstairs. She sat on her bed and brushed her hair, long and
brown, but just brown, as her eyes were just brown, and the
sprinkling of freckles on her nose just brown and irredeemable of
removal. And my mouth is too wide, and my cheekbones have no
character, and my forehead is too high. She brushed harder. But how
fortunate I am to have Mama and Kitty to point out all my failings,
she thought. Thanks to them, I have never been compelled to devote
hours to mirror gazing, like poor Kitty.
    Her hands were shapely, she knew,
and there was nothing really wrong with her figure, beyond a
tendency to overgenerosity through the bosom, which was not at all
fashionable these days. My bosom was à la mode three hundred years
ago, she thought with a smile. Raphael would have loved to paint
me, if he could have overlooked an ordinary face. And why not?
Everyone else does.
    The bed was cold, but she climbed
into it with a sigh, grateful she had no wounds that stank and
throbbed, and no one to worry about except herself. And nothing to
look forward to, she considered again as she closed her eyes.
Unlike you, Major Reed. She sighed and turned over, seeking warmth
where there was none. I cannot even return to St. Barnabas tomorrow
to see how you are doing.
    I wish I had the courage to just
leave the house tomorrow morning and return to that church, she
thought, then put it from her mind. Lydia, you have wished and
wished for things all your life, but you have forgotten the most
important wish of all, she told herself: You need to wish for a
braver heart.
     
     

Chapter Three
    S he dreamed
of Picton’s Own Battery, all one-legged, one-armed, and one-eyed
men