Lydia Armstrong

Lydia Armstrong

Portrayed by Laura Fraser
Full Name	Lydia Mary Armstrong
Associated Noble House(s)	No connections
Date of Birth	2 July, 1782
Father	Frank Gibson
Father's Rank	n/a
Mother	Lettice Crombie Gibson
Mother's Rank	n/a
Town Residence	16 Gracechurch Street
Year of Debut	n/a
Dowry	n/a
Year of Marriage	1800
Spouse	Martin Armstrong
Spouse's Rank	merchant
Year of Widowhood	1810 (presumed) 1811 (actual)
Issue	Theresa Armstrong, b. 1804; Timothy Armstrong, b. 1808

Lydia Armstrong lives in London with her brother, her children, and her brother's children.

Played by Emily

Family

• Father: Frank Gibson, b. 1743, d. 1805
• Mother: Lettice Gibson (nee Crombie) b. 1751, d. 1802
• Brother: Thomas Gibson, b. 1768
• Sister-in-Law: Maud Gibson, b. 1776, d. 1810

• Husband: Martin Armstrong, b. 1778 d. 1811
• Daughter: Theresa "Tessie" Armstong, b. 1804
• Son: Timothy Armstrong, b. 1808

Nieces & Nephews:

• Anne Gibson, b. 1794
• Frank Gibson, b. 1798
• Edgar Gibson, b. 1800
• Ruth Gibson, b. 1803
• Hetty Gibson, b. 1806
• Gilbert Gibson, b. 1809
• Lucy Gibson, b. 1810

Friends

Georgiana Haworth

Aquaintances

Oscar Moncrieff

Eleanor Clare

Perdita Gardiner

Aaron Abdullah

Love Interests

-none-

Enemies

-none-

History

Childhood & Marriage

Lydia Gibson was born to a happy, average family. Her father, having made his fortune in trade, installed them in an estate in Cumbria, where she grew up quite free and easy, a bright girl with a strong will and determination about her. She has always been particularly close to her only sibling--her brother, Thomas, despite the disparity in their ages.

When she was eighteen, she quite happily married the only son of her father's greatest friend and business partner, a Mr. Armstrong. Martin continued the business their fathers had built, as Lydia's brother expressed a great preference for the practice of law, and Thomas soon moved to London after the conclusion of his studies.

Lydia bore two healthy children, a boy and a girl, and the marriage was warm, friendly and honest. Their friendship and mutual respect had long since given way to a comfortable kind of love as they built their life together and raised their children.

However, not long after the birth of his second child, Martin began to exhibit a darker side to his nature--episodes of confusion; strange and terrifying kinds of fits that he hardly seemed aware of himself, once they had passed. Any number of doctors only shook their heads and looked grave as Martin's condition worsened over time, quite simply diagnosing him as mad (some sneering at his "immoral vice" as the cause of this insanity, though Lydia greatly resents the notion and knows her husband to have been a good and honourable man.) His paranoia and despair have led his wife to desperate lengths to help him recover, though she has come to hold little hope of a cure.

Eventually, she only sought a safe place for her husband to live and be looked after, finding, to her eternal shame, that she herself was not up to the task, and mindful of her children's security. All doors have been closed to her, however, and what ready money she has is of little use. As no one can understand her husband's madness, most fear his outbursts and have deemed him too violent for private care. As a result, Martin Armstrong has been left to rot in the "incurable" ward at Bethlehem Royal Hospital, alias Bedlam, leaving his wife to raise her children as best she can, find a way to tend to the family business, as well as trying to understand what has happened, and why. Lydia is certain, in her heart, that her Martin still exists somewhere inside the terrified, raving husk that they keep under lock and key, but she cannot think how he could ever be recovered from his present state, and has given up the search for a doctor who might make the attempt. (N.B. Martin's illness would be a modern diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia.)

Following these sad events, Lydia has left the home and county she has known for so long and loved so well, to move to London, not only to be nearer to Martin, (whatever good it may do), but to live with her brother, her only remaining relative.

Life in London

Thomas is a busy man, now a Tory MP in the House of Commons, who was made a widower this last year following his wife Maud's death, (succumbing to childbed fever after the birth of their seventh child, Lucy.) He is kind and loving of his sister and children, but has given himself over almost entirely to his career, asking Lydia if she will be his housekeeper as well as looking to the children, which includes acting as chaperone to his eldest child, Anne, who is quietly debuting this year, just to get it out of the way and done with. Thomas has also shouldered the burden of all the dealings with Martin's business, requiring him to spend much of his time with his correspondence, in his study. Lydia worries for his health, wondering when he must sleep or eat for all his rushing about.

This jumbled-up and grieving family are all currently residing in a large, comfortable townhome, with just enough nursemaids and a governess and tutor to keep Lydia from entirely losing her own mind. Though the house is in Gracechurch Street, none of them much cares for fashions, strictly-speaking.

Even so, her brother's political ambitions have necessitated a certain aura of secrecy about Martin's condition, given the cruel assumptions made about the mentally ill. Upon their removal to London, Thomas believed it best and simplest if Lydia would assume the role of a widow. Though she is generally forthright, Lydia acknowledges the sense of the plan, and has worn her black and allowed others to draw their own conclusions. Her grief at the "loss" of her husband is certainly true enough, and due to these circumstances and the upheaval in their lives, she keeps a watchful eye on her children, guarding her son with particular jealousy and trepidation.

Lydia has been to see her husband several times, closely-veiled, generally preferring to go on the first Tuesday of every month, when admission to the "show of Bethlehem" is free. It is not that she cannot afford the penny-admission on other days, but that she resents the implication of counting herself among those who attend only for their own amusement, and will not pay to catch a glimpse of her own husband. Sometimes Martin knows her, but generally he does not. His treatment at Bedlam seems to have only worsened his distraction, and when she has seen him, he is mostly unresponsive, between episodes of raving and despair. Lydia would fear Martin's doing himself harm--having had one or two close calls, before--were it not for the barrenness of the cells, but for the filth.

Still, though there are no available implements with which Martin could injure himself, his "caregivers" are keen enough to do it for him, and he is often covered in weals and bruises beneath his wretched and ragged clothing. The days of free admission do allow more people than usual to gain entrance to the hospital, however, and so more often than not during these visits Lydia must watch the gawkers laughing at those poor souls confined there, some even going so far as to reach between the bars with sticks to agitate the patients, as if they were wild beasts. It is all Lydia can do not to scream at this, and her visits are usually short. Still, she refuses to give them up, despite Thomas' pained disapproval but tacit allowance--Lydia could not live with herself if she wholly abandoned her poor Martin to his fate.

On 10 May 1811, Lydia received news that her husband died of gaol fever. [1]

Personality

Lydia has a strong will and a great deal of determination, which she has recently been using to keep her emotions in check around others. She was once generally cheerful, but has been rendered something of a pessimist by her situation--when she is tired, (which is often, given so many children in the house,) she speaks with caustic irritation and a great deal of dry, black humour. She tries to restrain herself around the children, however, as her nieces and nephews must all miss their mother, however much they like their aunt. Lydia is kind and generous, and great fun with the children when she finds the time and energy to entertain them all. She loves them dearly, and is thankful, overall, for the distractions they provide, though at times she WOULD like a moment of quiet reflection to herself--and these instances are hard-won and rare.

Always a practical person, Lydia's talent for organization and getting things just right has been stretched to its limits in recent days, but she has prided herself on rising to any occasion, and can handle herself coolly in a crisis, even if she might be falling apart on the inside. She tends to be on-edge, much of the time, and this tension might give people the impression of someone who is cold or high-strung, though this is not the case, once one gets to know Lydia.

Lydia could be called a bit meddlesome and opinionated; she seems to feel it is her job to fix everyone and everything, and this and her slightly impulsive temper might lead her into trouble, sometimes.

She and her family are not titled, though her brother is now quite wealthy, and her husband very well off in his business. Lydia has never wanted for anything, but never developed a particular pride in wealth or position. As her world has been shaken these last few years, she now considers more often what must be done to maintain herself and her children, though she knows that the business is doing well, and something must surely come to her son, at least, should his father die; and Thomas would never see her and her children without the necessities of life, of course.

Lydia is very protective of her nieces and nephews, and doubly so of her own two children. Often she will find herself almost smothering them, but she cannot seem to help herself. It grieves her to see her children frustrated with her unwonted strictness, and she may then draw back and allow them a little more freedom, for a time, in her guilt; but inevitably, it seems, the insidious fears and worries return and she once again reigns them back in. Lydia can rarely settle herself unless she has her children near her, and she wonders just how she will manage when it comes time for her son to attend school.

As previously mentioned, Lydia is direct and open, with little fear of confrontation, and she will argue her point with ease and conviction. Still, as there are things she cannot reveal to certain people, there are times when she will prefer to say nothing at all, or speak of something else, rather than begin on a topic which may lead her to more falsehoods than she would like to get caught up in.

Despite everything, Lydia has almost unshakable faith in her own convictions, and boasts a great deal of confidence, believing she will always do what is right by herself, by others, and by God. She would like to urge her brother to try to do more, politically, for the unfortunates left to hospital care, as well as orphans and the poor in the workhouses, but she doesn't wish to burden him any further just now. Meanwhile, she likes to do what she can to help, and is always industriously working at some sturdy, sensible bit of clothing to be donated through the church, and is considering an attempt to begin a charitable movement among the upper echelons of London ladies, but has her doubts as to how it might be received by the golden youths and their miserly mamas.