Chapter Text
1927
Lydia had not yet existed the last time her father had left Manderley for an extended period of time. It had been in the summer of 1914, when he had been called to serve King and country in some administrative capacity during the Great War. She had been conceived during a short period of leave before he was promptly sent back to the front. He had not been there for her birth, nor for most of the first 3 years of Lydia’s life.
She remembered that there were photos of him around the house, that Rebecca had shown her a few. She remembered visiting Aunt Bea and Roger, Aunt Bea telling them both stories about their fathers to keep them still for a few minutes. Sometimes she would laugh or cry. Sometimes she would stare off into the distance with a look on her face that, looking back on it now, Lydia could only describe as solemn, laced with immense worry for her husband and brother.
There were letters sent and received, but she hadn’t known what about, for she hadn’t yet learned to read and Rebecca hadn’t told her anything. Now that she was older, almost 12, she was pretty sure the letters consisted of general updates about the warfront and the goings on at Manderley.
By all accounts, she should have at least recognized her father by the time he came home near the end of ‘18, about a month before her 3rd birthday. When he entered the front hall, however, she had turned to Danny, visibly pregnant with Rudolph at the time, and asked who the strange man was that had entered their house.
Danny had told her years later that Rebecca had laughed upon hearing the question. Lydia thought that was rather in character for her. The laughter could have been directed at her, or at Father, maybe even at them both. She could easily imagine Rebecca smirking with just the slightest hint of that cold smile on her face.
“Look at that, Max. Your own daughter doesn’t even know who you are” She had probably said. It might have been a taunt, but Lydia was feeling a little optimistic at the moment and decided it had most likely been merely a jest. The only one who would have known for sure was Rebecca herself, and the thought of asking her hadn’t crossed Lydia’s mind.
She did know, however, that Danny had given her an actual answer. “That’s your father, dear.” Even as far back as Father’s return from war, a few years before Rebecca had hit her for the first time, the housekeeper was more affectionate towards her than her own mother was. It was a good thing too, for it gave Danny a little practice for when Rudolph was born.
Lydia remembered her father telling her that she had stared at him as if to compare the sight of him in the flesh to the photos she had been shown, and she had been a little scared to approach him at first. When she did, he had scooped her up to hug her and kiss her forehead.
“You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you,” He had said. She had asked when that happened, and he told her that he was last on leave when she was less than a year old, too young to remember much of anything.
She had adjusted to his consistent presence rather quickly, apart from following him around Manderley from time to time, which Father had taken in stride. Sometimes he would bring her out to the cliffside above the beach and tell her “This will be yours one day.”
There had been a sense of warmth back then, a sense of pride. She missed those days, back when he was at least a little affectionate. Not nearly as much as Danny, but much more so than Rebecca. Now her father was the one ignoring her. No, she was pretty sure he had abandoned her, but at least it was no worse than how Rebecca behaved towards her on her best days.
Even so, she hoped he would come home. It had been over a year since he went to Monte Carlo, and last week Aunt Bea had gotten a letter from him and assured her that he intended to return soon.
How soon was soon? A few more days? Another week? Two weeks? Lydia didn’t know, but she knew that if he were to come home right now, she would forgive him for leaving. Maybe he would greet her with that same affectionate manner he had all those years ago after the war. Maybe he would apologize, let her know that he loved her despite the sight of her bringing so much pain.
She would tell him everything. She would start with how she’d missed him, that she wanted to hear about his travels, that those frilly dresses Rebecca used to make her wear in company didn’t make her skin crawl anymore because they now belonged to Rudolph. Then she would tell him that she didn't want him to leave again, that she was hurt that his letters had been so sparse, that she forgave him, that she would change her appearance, her mannerisms, anything necessary not to remind him of Rebecca anymore. It could be what they’d both need for all the bad memories to go away.
Yes, Lydia would be glad if he came home soon, and this time, she would remember what he looked like.