Love for Lucinda by Gayle Buck

performance. I am so glad that we came,” said Miss Blythe.
    “Oh, yes! And it was not only the play, Tibby. The evening progressed in a satisfactory fashion otherwise, don’t you think?” asked Lucinda. “I anticipate that we shall see any number of new invitations on the morrow. Why, we are becoming quite popular!”
    “Yes, indeed. Everyone was most gracious,” said Miss Blythe.
    Suddenly the dense, threatening clouds opened up. Rain and sleet swept down, surprising all that were leaving the theater. Cries and curses alike were startled out of the theatergoers, and there was a dash for shelter.
    The carriage had drawn up at that moment, and Lucinda and Miss Blythe scrambled up into it with unladylike haste. The door was slammed shut. The carriage dipped as the driver climbed back up on top. Lucinda and Miss Blythe pulled a rug over their knees and put their feet on the hot brick. Rain and sleet drummed on the carriage roof.
    Water dripped from Lucinda’s nose, and she brushed it away, laughing. “We must look like two drowned rats! What an end to a perfect evening. That will teach us to get so puffed up in our own estimation.”
    Miss Blythe sneezed. She apologized, ending with, “It is a most salutary lesson, indeed!”
    As soon as they had returned to Mays House, Lucinda and Miss Blythe repaired instantly to their respective bedchambers to remove their wet cloaks and finery. Madison gave a distressed cry at sight of her mistress’s wet appearance. “My lady! Oh, you must be frozen!”
    “I am all right, Madison. But I fear that my slippers are ruined,” said Lucinda, wiggling her toes in the sodden footgear. She dropped the heavy wet cloak over a chair.
    “We shall soon have you out of these wet things and into your gown, my lady,” said Madison. Her fingers flew over the many small buttons on the back of the gown. Within minutes Lucinda was cozy in a warm gown and robe.
    The housekeeper had ordered up hot toddies for the ladies. Mrs. Beeseley herself performed the task of warming Lady Mays’s bedsheets. As she energetically moved the warming pan back and forth between the sheets, she scolded her mistress. “Anyone could have seen that it was going to rain. You ought to be more careful, my lady. No doubt you will catch a terrible chill.”
    “Nonsense, I am never ill,” said Lucinda. “A little wetting shan’t harm me in the least.” She tightened the tie on her robe and turned to the fire, spreading her chilled fingers to the warm blaze.
    “Perhaps not, my lady,” said Mrs. Beeseley, a note of doubt in her tone. She straightened, done at last with the warming pan. “Howsomever, I do have my doubts for poor dear Miss Blythe. Why, I left her not three minutes ago sneezing and sniffling something awful. The poor lady looked as miserable as a wet cat.”
    Lucinda looked around, her sympathy immediately aroused. “Poor Tibby! I shall go to her at once.”
    Lucinda went along the hall to her companion’s bedroom. She knocked on the door, and the maid opened it to her. The woman bobbed a curtsy. “Good evening, m’lady.”
    Lucinda entered with a quiet word of greeting. “How is Miss Blythe?” she asked softly.
    The maid shook her head. “Miss is sitting before the fire, feeling as wretched as she can be, m’lady.” She closed the door as Lucinda went to see for herself.
    Miss Blythe was huddled in a wing chair with a rug thrown over her knees.Her hair had been let down from its pins, and it hung in a thick screen over her shoulder. She cupped the hot toddy between her hands and carefully sipped at the hot brew. Her eyes were watery, her nose was red, and when she greeted Lucinda, her voice came out in a rasping croak.
    Lucinda was shocked and concerned. “Tibby, you must instantly get into bed.”
    “It is only a small chill. You must not be anxious on my account,” said Miss Blythe hoarsely.
    The maid leaned quietly toward Lucinda. “Miss refuses to get into bed, my lady, and here I’ve