"Idrie's come back Mama! Can you believe it, Foster? I told you she'd keep her promise, didn't I?"

"Certainly, Miss Lori."

It had been two months since Miss Brightley's departure from Idleworth, Miss Flynn and Poe having only left four weeks afterwards, leaving Lori Lambert a creature of despair.

At first, she bore it with courage, and no one would have known Brightley's absence affected her (except Foster, of course). However, her courage left her once Flynn and Poe had said their goodbyes, her wistful gaze following the departing carriage that carried the last of her newfound friends. After this, she threw herself into mourning, completing her melancholic air with her mother's funeral veil and the dead flowers she'd let dry out in the pantry. She then went about the estate with a distressed solemnity not even the cheerful head gardener dared disturb.

When Miss Brightley's letter arrived at Idleworth, Mrs. Lambert gasped as though she'd come up from the sea for air. The sudden changes of her countenance perplexed Lori, who never failed to linger in her mother's presence to sport her downtrodden spirits; the child was now left ponder why the woman was no longer aggravated by her widowed apparel.

With much merriment, the house broke into an uproar as Miss Brightley, looking quite tanned and lovely (as was the expressive opinion of Mrs. Lambert) glided into the drawing room, her airy white dress swirling about her ankles with abandon.

Mrs. Lambert eyed the dark head of coiffed locks, steely eyes and familiarly long nose with a touch of fondness before sweeping across the room to embrace the young woman. Lori, on the other hand, received her friend with a mixture of tears, laughter, and peppery kisses.

"I knew you'd keep your promise. Anne didn't think you would, but I did! Mama, I demand that you relieve Anne of her duties. I no longer require her services."

Mrs. Lambert, had she been in a less agreeable mood, would have made some stern remark, but only dismissed her daughter's words with an elegant wave before drawing Miss Brightley towards the sofa and clasping her slender hands.

"I'm so glad you've visited us again, Miss Brightley. Your absence simply devastated Lori, didn't it, dear?"

Lori responded with a sniffling nod, which Miss Brightley graced with a tender look.

"I'm sincerely touched, Lori and I daresay I've missed you too."

Mrs. Lambert beamed at the two before rising and taking the younger woman by the hand.

"We've been redecorating-a seasonal affair I find comforting, and Raymond doesn't mind in the slightest. Perhaps you'd care to have a look...?"

Mrs. Lambert, acknowledging the potential regret if her son failed to appreciate the stunning lady accompanying her, escorted her guest through the spacious rooms, with Lori skipping along. She showed Miss Brightley the changes made since her last visit, impressed by the younger woman's ability to offer compliments, make appropriate inquiries, and provide insightful opinions when enquired.

"We're hosting an autumn ball this year-it's been a long time since Idleworth has hosted something grand. Why, Lori must've been in her second year."

"And I couldn't even taste any of Ruth's sweet and white things then," said Lori with a frown at her mother.

Mrs. Lambert ushered her daughter ahead as they wandered down a wider corridor before re-entering the parlour, where Foster had laid out the tea. Her lip twitched when Lori settled on the floor near Miss Brightley knees and, with a soft sigh, she forced herself to focus on her guest.

"I'd be delighted if your family accepted an invitation."

For a while, Miss Brightley caressed Lori's ringlets with a faraway glint in her sad eyes.

"I'm honoured, Mrs. Lambert and how can I refuse? I can't wait to write to Lizzy-she's been feeling under the weather as of late. She didn't wish to part with me, but I had to keep my word to Lori."

"Of course, of course, quite naturally indeed. Your Lizzy is fortunate to have such an exquisite young woman as a sister."

The cool grey eyes appeared a bit less sad.

"Thank you, Mrs. Lambert, but it's I who am most fortunate to have Lizzy. She'll be delighted to hear about the ball."

Invitations for each of the prospective brides were mandatory for the mistress of Idleworth since she also wished to observe her possible in-laws in a social atmosphere. And though she held a preference for Idrielle Brightley, Wade had shown much enthusiasm towards Ellyn Poe, who held his interest with hours of animated chatting, not to mention her hunting skills which undoubtedly charmed him stupid, his mother thought ruefully. Alice Flynn, she decided, may have been too tame for Wade's liking, though one could never be certain. Certainly, there were countless times she'd caught him watching the pretty little creature who looked over the happenings of Idleworth with an angelic air. She'd been polite, sweet, and helpful in many ways and only seemed to harbour a slight disdain for Miss Brightley, whom she considered a threat, Mrs. Lambert decided sadly. However, Miss Flynn was, in Mrs. Lambert's opinion, too passive and appeared somewhat intimidated by Lori, who possessed more than her share of grit, will, and spirit.

No matter, she thought as she poured steaming tea into the delicate china Mr. Lambert brought back from Roche, whomever he chooses will do him well. I've made certain of that beforehand.

And she watched Miss Brightley's slim fingers take the saucer and cup from the table.

Conversation moved along with few interruptions besides Lori's inquiry on what the gardens of Brush of Hills looked like and whether Miss Brightley thought pixies might live there in spring. With a skillful hand, (and without upsetting Lori's imaginative queries) Mrs. Lambert steered the talk to her son.

"Wade has gone to Ortz. I believe that's where his last letter was sent from. Isn't that right, Lorienne?'

"Yes, Mama. But you know what's strange? He didn't really say anything in his most recent one. Quite unlike him. He always writes me hunky bits of letters."

"Long letters, dear; we do not say hunky."

The girl sighed. "Wade never minds my saying hunky."

Her mother cast her an impatient glance before adjusting the folds of her dress.

"It is a shame we've yet to meet your sister, Miss Brightley. I've heard such pleasant things about the two of you when Lori and I visited my aunt in Curds. It's been so many years since I travelled there. We meant to call at Brush of Hills, but it was such a long way off and the visit to Aunt rather short. She cannot bear to keep guests longer than a week."

Since the ladies' departure from Idleworth, Mrs. Lambert had been restless; her mood was further burdened when both her husband and son wandered away on business. Not being a woman to dawdle in decision-making, she packed her troublesome Lori to call on an ancient aunt who was as strict as she was short-tempered and 'did not tolerate the busyness of children'.

And so, Lori branded the seven days she endured at her aunt's as the bane of her nine and three-quarter years of existence, and she'd forever remember how she was forced to sit straight, read hymns, and was 'prohibited' to laugh aloud or run indoors as 'insensible children do', were the old woman's precise words.

Within their short stay, Mrs. Lambert combed through neighbours and associates alike learning what she could of the Brightleys as her husband did not give what she considered most excruciatingly important details to the family's background which entailed the late Henrietta Brightley.

(And most mothers concerned with their sons' future wives might very well agree!).

Overall, she was pleased with the family background and reputation.

Foster entered the room again, his polished shoes reflecting the mid-morning sun that slipped through the curtains.

"Doctor Garin, Madame."

____________________________________________

Back in Harwickshire as predicted! The author bade me be on my way post haste and how gratifying it was to find that Miss Brighltey herself has returned to Idleworth!

What should we make of this? 🧐

I'm not the only one digging for a scoop on the goings-on at the manor for I've noticed a rather nimble little gel scaling the upper windows earlier this morn...

Let's hope the young Miss Lambert doesn't injure herself with her recklessness...

Leave a VOTE ⭐ just in case the doctor has to tend to a few broken bones...