A Scandal in a Noble English Family
Its the end! declared Lydia Spencer, dabbing delicately at the corner of her eye with a spotless handkerchief. She sighed so woefully that her husband, John Spencer, looked up in alarm.
Lydia, whats happened? The drops again?
Oh for goodness sake, John, not the drops! Cant you see? This is a disgrace, a scandal! The entire family name is ruined! Just look at hershe doesnt even seem the slightest bit remorseful!
The only heiress of the Spencer family hardly looked penitent. There were no histrionics, no crocodile tears or wringing of hands. Nothing of the sort.
Elizabeth Spencer was eating cherries out on the veranda, her long legsgifts, according to her mother, from her grandmother, a former prima ballerina at Covent Gardendraped over the railing. Taking a cherry from the large painted bowl on the table, she popped it into her mouth, then expertly flicked the stone onto the lawn. Each time, her actions elicited a pained sigh from her mother.
Elisabeth! Stop it this instant! Show some respect, were meant to be having a serious conversation!
Lydia, thoroughly exasperated, flapped her hands and retreated inside to take her beloved calming drops.
Lizzie, darling, are you being serious? John Spencer asked with a hopeful glance, pausing before following his wife.
I am, Dad! Absolutely. And you can tell Mum not to bother with all these matchmaking attemptstheyre doomed. Im not marrying Matthew. Not a chance.
Youll break her heart!
Oh, dont be ridiculous, Dad.
Maybe you ought to reconsider?
No. Its all been decided. I told him as much earlier today. If you didnt catch it the first time, let me repeat: there wont be a wedding.
A long howl echoed from the lounge, compelling John to hurry to his wifes aid, while Lizzie calmly ate another cherry.
Heavens above, what will I tell everyone? This is a nightmare! The restaurant is booked, invitations have gone out!
I never asked you to invite anyone, Lizzie replied without raising her voice. You made the decisionyou can sort it out.
Thats cruel, Lizzie! I only wanted whats best for you.
And as usual, it turned out just the same. Ive got my own plans for my life, you know. Shocking, isnt it?
Elizabeth! Her mothers voice broke again, and she sobbed afresh. How dare you?
At the moment? Not much, said Lizzie, rising to gather the untouched teacups from the table, brushing her mother off. I know everything youre going to say. I can manage three teacups. Without breaking any, even.
With that, Lizzie disappeared into the kitchen. Lydia put her handkerchief aside and stared at her husband.
Shes exactly like your mother! Even her inflections! Why me, Johnwhat have I done to deserve this?
Johns mother, the formidable Lady Regina Spencer, had never been Lydias favourite person. Lydia wasnt a young bride, and carried herself as a woman who knew the world. She had expected respect from her mother-in-law, but Regina didnt see the need for any special ceremony simply because there was a new member in the family.
Lydia, darling, what is that aroma? Regina would stage-whisper, pretending to pinch her nose when Lydia entered a room.
My new perfume, if you must know! Do you dislike it?
Im sure its lovely, dear. But really, must you use half the bottle? A dab on the wrist would do.
Lydia, who admittedly overindulged in scent, would pout in indignation.
What have I ever done to her? she would lament to John. Why does she treat me like this?
Lydia, darling, mum is just like that with everyone. Its her way.
She should change her way, or I swearno more darling! I cant stand the word!
Of course, Lady Regina saw no reason to alter her approach. Her sharp remarks often unnerved Lydia, causing the couples relationship with her to grow chilly. That was, until one day at the theatre, someone said to Lydia:
My word, Lydia, youve become a true lady! Thats what comes of spending time with Lady Reginawhat a woman! Such taste! Such a sense of style. How wonderful to see a worthy disciple!
Lydia didnt appreciate comparisons with her mother-in-law, but she liked the compliment. After all, Regina really was a style icon. Lydia, ever sensible, quietly made her peace with it. She kept her distance, was always polite. Once Lizzie was born, all past grievances faded. Regina doted on her only granddaughter, and spent as much time with little Lizzie as possible.
In the Spencer family, where everyone was either an artist or in some creative fieldexcept for Lydia, who was a dentistpeace and quiet reigned. Lizzie grew up bathed in affection. Her grandmother and father showered her with love, while her mother, though strict, simply wanted her daughter to have a better life than her own.
Lydia never spoke of her past, not even to her husband. He knew the basics, but respected her desire for privacy. John was an understanding man; once he realised she didnt want to delve into old wounds, he left them be, which Lydia greatly appreciated. She severed all ties with her history and focused on the present.
Lydia no longer spoke to her own mother, for very serious reasons she never discussed. The only memento from that chapter of her life was a small locket she always wore, containing a photograph of a curly-headed boy. She could never bring herself to open it. Lydia remembered with perfect clarity: her son was only two when she left him in her own mothers care for a short while, dashing out to the shop for some milk. It had been a scorching summer, the nursery windows wide open, the cot moved closer for a better breeze
Losing her son almost broke Lydia. She stopped eating, sleeping, even thinking. She blamed herself for refusing to take time off university. That fateful day she had an exam; on returning home, her world ended before it really began.
She divorced her first husband, who, away on an expedition, didnt even make it back in time for the funeral. Their marriage lasted barely three years, and Lydia realised early on that even a child couldnt bind them together. Divorce was inevitable.
Once the papers came through, she packed a small suitcase and left the city of her childhood and youth forever. From the moment she heard she was no longer a mother, Lydia felt a hundred years old. It seemed to her that she had already endured every pain life could offer. Inside, all that was left was ashes.
Or so she thought
Then John appeared.
He came to her surgery, clutching a swollen cheek.
How long have you had this?
A week, maybe more.
Honestly, you men! Grown up and still no sense
Youre right, I havent a clue, John grinned, despite the ache.
Something in his smile stopped her mid-lecture. She fumbled her instruments, something shed never done before, and blushed scarlet while John quietly looked away.
From then on, he waited for her after work and walked her home. For over a year, they hardly needed words to understand one another. When John proposed, Lydia hesitated.
I love being with you but Im not sure I can make you happy.
Why not?
I dont want children.
Why?
Ill tell you, but not in detail, Lydia replied, utterly serious. Afterwards, you can think it over. If tomorrow you dont come, Ill know youve decided. Take your time, even talk it over with your mother if you must. I know youre close.
John never did consult Regina. He was an adult, and besides, Lady Regina wasnt one to meddle. Shed only taken a real interest in Lydia much later. Regina used to joke that shed become a trial in retirement, like all those classic mother-in-law tales. Ballet dancers retire early, after all. By the time John announced his engagement, Regina had already married and divorced twice more.
John told his mother about Lydias past just as it was. Regina, tapping cigarette ash into a delicate china saucer, listened wordlessly, expression growing graver. When he finished, she sighed deeply, pushed her cup aside, and asked quietly,
Do you love her?
Yes.
Then what are you waiting for? Love, my boy, is a precious thing. Whatever price you pay, it is never enough. And real treasure, if its genuine, is never weightless. Sometimes it feels impossible to bear, but believe me, youll find the strength. If you truly appreciate what youve been given.
Do you really think so?
I know so.
That was the end of the conversation. John introduced Lydia to his mother, Regina offered her a cheek to kiss before whisking her off to her tailor. From the old family sideboard, she produced a small jewellery box.
Here, Lydiathe Spencer family jewels.
Oh, I couldnt possibly
Yes, you must. Youre one of us now. Wear whatever you choose, but know these are not mere baublesyou must wear them wisely.
How do you mean?
My grandmother used to say: wearing diamonds to the market is vulgarunless youre in Brighton, of course. There, it simply ensures the fishmongers will be green with envy and give you a discount.
Lydia was surprised to find herself laughing, having thought she had quite forgotten how.
Regina became her guide, and while Lydia grumbled, deep down she was grateful for all her mother-in-law did for her. When Lydia discovered she was pregnant, it was Regina she told first, not John.
Youre looking rather peaky, Lydia. Whats going on? Regina had just returned from another trip with her latest husband and stopped by to check on her son.
With John out, Regina pried the truth from Lydia, who eventually gave in and fled to the bathroom, staying long enough for Regina to put two and two together.
Youll have your baby at St. Marys, with Sophieshes the best. Dont worry, Ill look after everything. What are you afraid of?
I dont know if I can cope
Listen here. Ive never been blunt with you, but you need to hear this: dont be silly! Thank your lucky stars and get on with it! And dont fearI wont take my eyes off you or your child. You hear me?
Yes thank you
Keep your thanks for laterwhen youre cursing me as a cantankerous old bat, recall todays gratitude!
Elizabeth Spencer was born healthy and right on time. Regina was at the hospital door to greet her, pushed back the lace blanket, and chortled,
Absolute perfection! Well done, Lydia!
And Regina kept every promise. Lydia had no better help. Reginathe grand dame and society iconwould arrive, shrug off her expensive furs, roll up her sleeves, and get stuck in, scrubbing nappies in a plastic basin, convinced carbolic soap beat powder any day. Then shed bathe Lizzie, peppering her with kisses, and coo like any doting grandmother,
My precious treasure! Stay healthy, always!
All past annoyances and quarrels faded away.
Lydia finally found what shed longed fora home, a family, a measure of peace.
Not that she forgot little Paul, of course. Twice a year, John took her back to her hometown. But Lydia never set foot in the city, let alone visited her mother. Theyd stay in a small guesthouse on the outskirts; Lydia would count the minutes until they could go home again.
Years passed this way, until one day, when Lizzie turned ten, Lydia received a letter from her own mother.
Only Regina knew the letters contents. Lydia showed it to her, seeking advice.
Go to her. Youll never forget. Forgiveness is another matter, but shes your mother. Remember the good times, the ones from before. Think back to when you were as small as Lizzie. None of us are angelseveryone makes mistakes, sometimes grave ones. You, me Dont become a saint overnight, Lydia, but dont spend your life afraid or full of regret. Lizzie wont benefit from that. I want whats best for you and my granddaughter. Whatever you decide, know I support you. Just think on it, will you?
The next day, Lydia left Lizzie with Regina and travelled home.
The talk with her mother was brief. Her mother woke only for a momentlong enough to squeeze Lydias hand and whisper, Forgive me.
Lydia returned home a few days later. Regina handed her Lizzie and gave an approving nod.
Well done. You did the right thing.
You might think that brought peace, but Lydia still felt uneasyReginas words haunted her, sticking like cobwebs, clouding her judgment.
A fearful, irrational dread consumed Lydia, so much so that John was forced to step in.
You fuss over Lizzie far too much, Lydia. She needs friends, her own hobbies. Us, her family, yes, but only up to a point.
I dont get what you want from me.
Im saying you need to give her a bit of space.
Oh really? Lydia bristled. And this from you? Dont you care what happens to your child?
Of course I do! Lydia, what are you getting at?
I see how she is, John! Anything could happen to her! I cant bear itdont you get that? I cant go through another loss!
But why are you so sure well lose her?
Anything can happen anytime! What then? Shall we fall to pieces, go mad? Will that make it any easier? Think, John!
All he could do was throw up his hands. He loved his wife, but her constant anxiety suffocated not only her, but the whole household.
He knew something must be done, but not what.
Again, Regina had the answer.
Let Lizzie take up dancing.
Why, Mum? Shes already up to her eyes in clubs and tutors.
Forget all that! She needs dancingpair dancing.
Does it matter?
Yes!
Fine, Ill try.
Thus, Lizzie began ballroom dancing, and soon there was Matthew.
Matthew was a plump, awkward boy at firsthis own grandmother brought him to the class. He was paired with Lizzie, the new girl.
Let them figure things out, said the teachers, not realising Lizzie wasnt one to blend into the background.
Three years later, Matthew and Lizzie took home their first trophy, and within another two, their pair became regulars at national ballroom competitions.
Matthew was now a tall and striking lad, casting a protective shadow over his petite partner. Judges believed they were an item; Lizzie simply grinned slyly, never confirming or denying itunaware that Lydia already had her future mapped out.
Lizzie discovered her mothers intentions after leaving school.
Ive made up my mindIm applying to medical school, she announced.
Lizzie, always a top student, had taken her time choosing a career.
Darling, we thought you had other plans, said Lydia, her smile oddly strained so much Lizzie shivered involuntarily.
What plans? I never said anything, did I?
No, you hardly say a word! But Ive talked to Matthew and his parents.
And?
Weve got three months to prepare. An autumn weddingsuch a beautiful time! Ill speak to your grandmother; shell arrange something extraordinary. She has connections everywhere.
A wedding? Lizzie squinted. Whos getting married? Matthew?
Silly girl! Of course! Youll make a wonderful couple, on and off the dancefloor! Isnt that splendid?
You didnt think to ask me first? Lizzie said coolly.
I thought it was all settled, darling.
Dont call me darling, snapped Lizzie.
Snatching her bag, she stormed out. Only in the evening did Lydia learn her daughter was staying with her grandmother.
Regina was blunt.
What did you expect? Lizzies not a doll. Did you think you could dress her up, pop on a veil, and send her down the aisle? Youve always been clever, Lydia! I hardly recognise you.
Shes my child! I want her to be happy! Matthew loves her!
But does she love him? Regina smirked. Or do her wishes count for nothing here?
I know whats best! She doesnt realise what she wants.
Oh, but she does. She wants to be a surgeon. Thats a fine ambition. Why does that bother you?
Everything does. Let her studyfine by me! But first, she must marry! Then Ill be at ease.
How will that help?
Dont you get it? Shell have a husbandsomeone to lean on! Matthews a lovely boy. Ever since they began dancing together, Ive slept well, knowing hed look after her.
I understand your concern, but I dont understand your determination to cage her. This marriage would trap hera gilded cage perhaps, but still a cage. Its not her choice, its yours, and you know it.
This is pointless. The wedding will happen.
Well see, smirked Regina. Do you even know your own daughter?
Lizzie proved her point. After that tense talk at her family home, she decided it was time for actionpacked up, and moved in with Regina, deeply wounding her mother. Lydia wouldnt answer calls, never visited, and only heard Lizzie had aced her entrance exams and was off to medical school from John.
Lydia, isnt it time to forgive and forget? Is hugging Lizzies pillow at night really better than hugging your real, healthy daughter? What are you torturing yourself for? I saw Lizzie yesterdayshes worried about you.
As if! Go on, say she cares what becomes of me.
Lydia! John, for the first time ever, raised his voice. This is too much! Shes your own flesh and blood! You longed for her, yearned for her! What changed? Why push away the very one you live for? You think I dont notice your heartache? Tell me why! Because I dont understand!
Nor do I! Lydia cried. I dont know what to do! Ive made a mess, and now I cant undo it. John, I really do need her. Its so painful, I feel as though an endless dark surrounds me. Theres no light anymore, just like when I lost Paul
Lydia, enough! John took her by the shoulders and gave her a brisk shake. Lizzies alive! And waiting for you! Get your things.
To go where? Why?
Ill take you to see our daughter. Stop thinking everything depends solely on you! Let her live, not just sit safely locked in a glass case youre scared to touch.
Whether it was Johns anger or his logic, Lydia gave in and did what he asked.
A reconciliation followed. Whatever was discussed by Lydia and Lizzie behind the locked door at Reginas house stayed between them. But from their teary faces and flushed cheeks, John realised his girls had made peace.
Yet fate, with its own whims, had another twist planned. Fate watched resolute Lizzie chase after her dreamsand then tossed in a surprise that even Regina blinked at.
Dr Spencer, theres an emergencyappendicitis incoming.
Right. Well, not right, obviously. Im on my way.
Lizzie finished her coffee, stretched, and headed to casualty. Her shift nearly over, she didnt hesitatepractice was practice.
You?!
Yeah Matthew managed a smile, then winced in pain.
Well, will you trust me?
You? Absolutely.
Just like that? No doubts, no drama, not even a will?
Lizzie, youre a dolt!
The biggest
Three years later, Lizzie would push open the garden gate and set her little boy down on the path to the porch.
Go on then! Show Granny how fast you can run! Mummy, catch him!
Young Paul would squeal with joy, dashing into open arms.
My golden boy! Oh, how wonderful to see you!
Mum, hello! Is Granny here?
Oh, yesthough shes run off to the coast again! Got a new beau in Devon.
Well, well, Granny! Who is he this time?
I think hes an artist. Or a sculptor. Or something of that sort. Dont ask meshell tell you herself when shes back. Wheres Matthew?
Parking the car.
Lovely! Roasts nearly ready, your fathers just taking the tart out of the oven. Wash your hands, then come to the table! Ill put Paul down and be right with you.
Rightyoull be singing to him instead!
And whats wrong with that? Lydia smiled, kissing her grandson.
Nothing at all, Mum. Its perfect.Lydia watched as Paul scampered into the arms of his mother, his laughter echoing through the gardenclear, bright, as if sunlight itself took sound. Matthews voice floated up the walk, and soon, the air was thick with joyous, overlapping greetings, like the sudden ringing of church bells on a festival day.
In that moment, standing beneath the wisteria where long ago shed wept over all shed lost, Lydia understood at last: happiness did not dwell only in safety, nor could it be kept still, locked behind doors or guarded with sorrow. It was a wild thingmessy, sometimes unpredictable, never perfect, yet fierce and real and, if you dared, more abundant for being shared.
She turned to Lizzie, whose eyes, so like her fathers, shone with laughter and life; at the sight, something in Lydias chest unknotted at last. All the old fears slipped away, made new by the presence of her familyfractured once, now mended in ways none of them could have foreseen.
John appeared at her side, apron askew, flour dusting his hair. He slipped his hand into hers, squeezed once, and she squeezed back, anchoring herself in all the complicated wonder of their shared world.
As the family gathered around the table, voices and stories and laughter wove through the open windows into the dusk. Lydia realized she was at the center of it allnot as a guardian against loss, but as a witness to love remade.
Out where the cherry tree grew, white petals drifted quietly down, each a wish, a memory, a promiseproof that in the end, it was not scandal or sorrow that endured, but the joy of letting people follow the music of their own hearts, and finding ones peace, at last, in their happiness.
