“George Daniel, would you listen to your mama and come back here this instant?” Lydia never used his full name unless provoked. The name of her husband did not linger sweetly on her lips as it once had. Her son was known by all as Daniel, but in moments like these the old name of George burst from her long forgotten vocabulary, bringing with it the tarnished memories and pains of ages past.

“Mama, please don’t vex yourself. Daniel will come soon.” Her second child, Julianne placed her head upon her mother’s shaking shoulders.

Lydia flung the door shut and strode into the room they called their parlour. For a moment she gazed at her reflection in the dusty mirror. The jollity and carelessness of Lydia Bennet had grown into the silent and worrisome wrinkles of Lydia Wickham. Or now SinClair as she called herself in London. She flung herself into the chair and mopped her forehead.

“Where is Fanny?” she cried.

Julianne lounged on the half broken couch. “She’s probably playing with Emma in a ditch somewhere.”

Lydia rose and poured a cup of tea. Her hand shook slightly as she handed a cup to Julianne. It was her day off from Raven House. No joy ever swept over her on such days. While she may not have the duties of a scullery maid to attend to, such chores she faced in her own room. The presence of her dearest children brought no consolation. A widow she was, abandoned and alone, with three mouths to feed in a city she now hated and amongst strangers.

“Why don’t you go and read, dear.” She stroked her daughter’s cheek. The pale face stared back at her, for a moment Lydia froze. The piercing eyes were almost like George’s. She blinked the thought away.

“Yes, mama,” said Julianne, quickly escaping out the room.

Lydia opened a cabinet door and lifted her cash box from beneath her sewing basket. She silently counted the notes. Her gaze travelled to the neatly bound envelopes dated from Pemberley estate. There had been no letter for over a month. Dared she acknowledge what she feared. No, while they had great dislike for her husband, they would not leave her penniless. She sighed. Without another check from Pemberley, she might barely survive the week.