He’s the one who must produce an heir, after all. Though I suspect he knows that no high-ranking family wants their daughter wed to him, not after his mother’s deplorable behavior. And especially not after Lord Chilton insisted his daughter break off her engagement to him.”
Tension crawled up Lydia’s spine. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying nothing, Lydia,” Mrs. Boyd replied. “I’m merely giving you the facts about the man, considering you took it upon yourself to visit him unescorted. I should hope that Jane’s education means as much to you as that foolish locket does.”
Lydia blinked at the sudden shift in topic.
“Of course,” she said. “Jane and her education mean everything to me. You know that.” The tension tightened around the base of her skull. “Why would you think otherwise?”
“I know you care about her, Lydia. And you’ve—”
“Care about her?” Good Lord. Did her grandmother not know that she loved Jane more with every breath, every heartbeat?
“You have done well with her,” Mrs. Boyd continued. “She’s still a bit careless, but for the most part she is a well-behaved, respectful girl. However, she is ready for a different type of schooling. The kind that will secure her a place in polite society.”
“She’s doing beautifully under my tutelage. We’ve started reading the Odyssey; we’re studying the countries of the empire; she’s learning fractions and basic algebra—”
“Lydia, Jane requires guidance from teachers who possess far more intuitive social grace than you do. She must learn proper etiquette if she is to marry well.”
“She’s not yet twelve,” Lydia protested. “I didn’t give etiquette or, heaven forbid, marriage a thought until I went to boarding school.”
“Perhaps you should have started earlier.” Her grandmother paused; then her voice sounded like the clip of scissors. “The discipline might have done you good.”
Lydia flinched, her hand clenching around the back of a chair.
The cosine of theta plus gamma equals the cosine of theta times the cosine of gamma plus the sine of theta times the sine of gamma.
“I know we’ve talked about her attending Queen’s Bridge, but even with the funds from the locket, it’s too expensive…” Lydia’s voice faded. Something in her grandmother’s expression caused a flutter of panic.
“I have discussed the matter with Mrs. Keene, whose opinion I implicitly trust,” Mrs. Boyd said. “Mrs. Keene has a widowed aunt who resides in Paris, a baroness whose late husband left her with both a fortune and his good name. Mrs. Keene has corresponded with Lady Montague about a girls’ school she recently opened in the Quartier St. Germain.”
“No.”
Mrs. Boyd’s mouth compressed. “I am not asking your opinion, Lydia.”
“You cannot send Jane all the way to France for her education.” The flutter of panic began to grow, beating hard against her chest. “You can’t do this to her.”
You can’t do this to me.
“I am not doing this to her, Lydia,” her grandmother replied. “I am doing it for her.”
“No. It’s too far. She won’t—”
“Heavens, Lydia, it is Paris, not the wilds of Africa,” Mrs. Boyd interrupted. “As you pointed out, we cannot afford to send her to any of the better London schools, least of all Queen’s Bridge. Lady Montague, however, owing to my friendship with Mrs. Keene as well as her wish to have a strong initial enrollment, has very kindly offered to provide Jane with a scholarship.”
“And you accepted?”
“I intend to, yes.” Mrs. Boyd sighed, her hand moving to fuss with her lace cuffs. “Lydia, I don’t wish to see Jane leave us either. But unless we can find a way to send her to a school in London—an exclusive school, mind you, one that will give her the education we cannot—I have no other choice.”
She lifted her head. For a long moment, they looked at each other. Lydia’s heart constricted, shrank. A thousand years seemed to fill the space between them, overflowing with regret and the pain of loss.
She wished her mother were here. Not the woman of the haunted, twisted mind, but the mother she remembered before the descent of darkness. The Theodora Kellaway of laughter and calm, of soft hands and long hair as thick and shiny as wheat.
And she wished her father were here. She needed his calm, serious approach, his perspective. Despite everything, he’d only ever wanted the best for both her and Jane.
“You still want to punish me, don’t you?” The question broke from her lips, coarse and crumbled.
“This is not about you,” her grandmother said. “This is about Jane.”