Chapter 5
When she awoke the following morning, Isabella felt a genuine sense of being trapped. Her marriage had finally settled into her properly, making her believe it was true; it really had happened.
There was no sign that Kitty had been into her yet, and so Isabella guessed it must still be very early. She’d slept so well she could hardly believe it. After Kitty had brought her a light meal of meat and warm potatoes, Isabella had climbed back into bed, and that was the last thing she could remember.
She could only think that it was the head injury which had allowed her to sleep so peacefully in such new and frightening circumstances.
Tentatively, Isabella raised her hand to the back of her head and was pleased to discover that the bump had receded a good deal. She felt a little more like her old self in terms of feeling substantial and strong physically.
Rising from the comfortable bed, Isabella tiptoed quietly over to the windows and drew back the heavy brocade curtains just enough to be able to peer out, hopefully unseen.
Before her lay a scene which took her breath away; she was staring out what must surely be the back of Coldwell Hall onto beautiful, dense woodland. In truth, to describe it as woodland was to do it no justice for it was vast, reaching out to the very edges of the estate, at least as far as Isabella could see.
Realizing that she would not be seen by anybody below since there was nobody there, Isabella drew the curtains back wide at every window and let the early morning sunlight flood in. She turned to look back into the room, to see it in the daylight. Its cream walls made it light and airy, and the room was at least four times the size of the one she had inhabited back at Upperton Hall.
She wondered if that was to be her room forever, or if she would finally be expected to lay alongside the Duke. The very thought made her shudder.
To take her mind off things, Isabella turned back to the beautiful woodlands. She could see several paths beginning to run into it and thought that there must be many little walks in that place. She looked out across the treetops, that fresh, bright green of spring seeming to overwhelm her in a very fine way.
As she stared out, Isabella thought she could see some stonework high in the treetops. She knew, of course, that it could not be suspended there, but there must be a building of some sort. Straining to see better, Isabella thought she could make out a castellated ridge as if what she was seeing was part of a castle turret. It was smaller, she was sure, and she could not see the thing entirely.
What a curious thing to have in the middle of woodland. Isabella wondered if she would ever be allowed outside; if she would be able to take one of the pathways into the woodland and find the building. Quite why she felt the sudden need to satisfy her curiosity when everything else in her life was so uncertain was quite beyond her.
The door opened with a creek, and Isabella spun around fast, her heartbeat quickening.
“It’s only me, Your Grace,” Kitty said with a smile. “I’m just bringing your water jug.” Kitty advanced into the room and set the jug on top of a beautiful mahogany washstand in the far corner.
Isabella could see tendrils of steam rising up from the jug and thought that the water must be wonderfully warm. How kind Kitty was.
“Thank you, Kitty.”
“Have you been awake for long, Your Grace?”
“Just a few minutes.” She turned away from the window and walked into the room. “I must admit that I slept very well indeed.”
“And how do you feel this morning?”
“In terms of health and vitality, Kitty, I feel very much better,” she said with a smile. “But I must admit, regarding my own heart and mind; I am still very much at sea.”
“Then let us hope that today brings a little more peace to your heart. Perhaps when you have had a chance to look around the place and see how beautiful it is, you might feel a little better.” Kitty smiled at her hopefully.
“Am I expected to stay in this room, Kitty?” Isabella said uncertainly.
“Goodness me, no.” Kitty laughed. “You really are not a prisoner.”
“Am I to go downstairs to take my breakfast?”
“You may have your breakfast wherever you choose. If you would prefer to have it here, then I shall bring it up to you. If you would prefer to go down to the breakfast room, I will escort you so that you know your way.”
Isabella mulled it over for a moment. It was true that she did want to have a look around the place, just so that she could shift the feeling that she was trapped inside that room forever. But she could not help wondering if the Duke would be taking his breakfast also. Could she really sit with him and eat bacon and tomatoes without concern? And would he care to see her at all after she had fainted away at the sight of his face on their wedding day?
“Perhaps I will take my breakfast in my room this morning, Kitty. It might be wise to slowly get used to things, might it not?”
“As you wish,” Kitty said with a nod. “I shall go down and collect you some breakfast now and then help you dress when you are ready.”
Isabella was surprised by the amount she was able to eat, taking not only bacon and tomatoes but some toast and a large boiled egg also. Kitty had left her alone to eat, to enjoy her meal in private. When she poured the steaming hot tea into the cup, Isabella felt greatly refreshed.
She rose, holding her cup and saucer, and returned to the window to look out at the stone turret. She had wanted to ask Kitty about it but, as with everything else she had wanted to ask, she decided to wait until she knew her lady’s maid a little better.
When Kitty returned to help her dress, Isabella was already looking through the great wardrobe. She immediately found her own collection of gowns, but they were swamped by a very much larger collection. Isabella could not help wondering who the gowns belonged to and, in the moment before Kitty returned to her, she hurriedly sorted through them.
The gowns looked new, unworn, and were very beautiful indeed. But if the Duke was, indeed, a recluse, a man who had lived alone for many years, why was it that there was a wardrobe full of beautiful gowns? Was there another lady here?
“You have found your gowns, Your Grace,” Kitty said as she bustled back into the room.
“Yes, I have found my gowns, Kitty; I thank you,” Isabella said, still confused. “But I have found some other gowns also, hanging alongside mine. Tell me, who do they belong to?”
“They belong to you.” Kitty smiled and looked in longingly at the gowns. “They are lovely, are they not?”
“They are very beautiful, but I do not see how they are mine.”
“His Grace had them made up for you before you came. He wanted you to have everything you needed.”
“But how could he be sure that they would fit me? The Duke and I did not even meet until yesterday in the chapel.”
“He asked your father for one of your gowns so that the seamstress might be able to make up one that would fit you. And if there are any alterations to be made, the seamstress will return and give you a proper fitting.”
“Oh, I see,” Isabella said, dumbfounded.
For a moment, she thought that the effort that the Duke had gone to was extraordinarily thoughtful. However, her optimism quickly turned to dust as she thought that having everything she needed might mean that she need never leave Coldwell Hall again. Everything was so confusing.
“Which gown would you like to wear, Your Grace?” Kitty opened the second door to the wardrobe out wide.
“I think, for today at least, I shall wear this one.” Isabella pointed to one of her own gowns, a neat but practical gown in a very pale green.
Isabella did not want to antagonize the Duke by choosing not to wear one of his gowns, but neither did she want to immediately go out of her way to appease him. If she was to spend a lifetime with such a man, she did not want to begin as her mother had done. She wanted to maintain something of herself, her individuality, and if it turned out to be the wrong thing to do, she would deal with the consequences as they came.
“What a lovely colour. It suits your pale skin and dark hair perfectly,” Kitty said, laying the dress out on the bed and admiring it genuinely.
Kitty had Isabella ready in no time and seemed to enjoy herself thoroughly. Isabella thought that she must have been a very good lady’s maid when she had attended the previous Duchess and was glad to see that the woman was enjoying the reprisal of her old role.
“Thank you, Kitty. How very skilled you are.” Isabella looked at her hair in the mirror.
“You do have such lovely hair, my dear.” Once again, Kitty’s absent-minded familiar tone in her address of the new Duchess was comforting, almost motherly.
“What am I to do now?” Isabella asked uncertainly.
“Well, I am to take you down to meet Mr Crawford Maguire.”
“Maguire? Oh, he is a tall man with the pale hair who opened the gates to my father’s carriage yesterday.”
“Quite so.” Kitty smiled. “The Duke thought it best that you speak with Mr Maguire so that he might be able to answer any questions that you have. Perhaps then, with some of your questions answered, you might feel a little more comfortable here.”
“I certainly hope so.”
As fearful as Isabella was of leaving the room, she was equally desperate to step out through the open door.
Kitty led her along a wide corridor, its walls adorned with some of the biggest portraits she had ever seen. The corridor was wide and gave a true sense of how large Coldwell Hall must really be. There were many doors and many rooms, and she wondered if she would ever come to know the place properly; if she would ever feel it to be her home.
She walked smartly down the immense main staircase behind Kitty and marveled at how ornate the glossy woodwork was. As she continued down the stairs, she could not help reaching out and running a finger down it, feeling the smoothness.
Arriving in the entrance hall was quite unforgettable. It was almost the size of the small ballroom back at Upperton and so grand it took her breath away. There was an ornate, life-size horse carved beautifully from wood and, sitting atop it, was a full suit of armour staged to look as if there truly was a man inside it.
There were shields everywhere and great plaques containing swords and spears as ornaments on the oak-paneled walls.
It was quite a display, and it gave her the feeling, just for a moment, of being inside a medieval castle, a place ever ready for an attack from the outside.
Isabella continued to follow Kitty for what felt like an age, turning this way and that down long corridors. Eventually, they arrived outside a partially open door, and Kitty paused.
“I do not think I shall find my way back to the room,” Isabella said, feeling suddenly nervous and not really wanting Kitty to leave her.
“Don’t worry; I shall come back for you.” And with that, Kitty laid a comforting hand on her forearm.
“Thank you,” Isabella said and took a deep breath before tapping gently on the door.
As Kitty clipped away down the corridor, the door opened, and Crawford Maguire smiled down at her.
He really was very tall, although he did not seem in any way intimidating. His gray-blue eyes looked down upon her kindly, and she felt her nerves instantly soothed.
“Do come in and take a seat,” he said as he ushered her into the room.
It was a dark wood-paneled room with many shelves, all littered with books. There was a rich oak desk, the largest she had ever seen and equally double the size of the one in her father’s study.
Crawford Maguire bypassed the desk and showed her to one of two large, high-backed armchairs by a wide, low window. Isabella looked out, trying to get her bearings, and thought she must be in a room which looked out over the east side of the estate.
“Thank you,” she said as she took her seat.
“I trust you are feeling better? Your head?” He looked at her with kind concern.
“Yes. The lump is very much smaller; I thank you.” Isabella resisted the urge to reach up and check.
“And you have recovered from … the shock?” He spoke cautiously, but he need not say more; it was clear he was referring to the Duke’s appearance.
“I did not mean to cause offence,” she said quietly.
“Of course.” He smiled. “It is just the way of things.”
“I do not understand what I am to do next. I mean, am I to stay in my room? Am I allowed to walk freely?”
“You are not a prisoner, Your Grace.”
“Then I may leave?” she said defiantly.
“I do not know quite how to answer. You are a married woman now, and you must ask your husband such a question.”
“Then I am a prisoner,” she said sullenly.
“Elliot recognizes how difficult these early days will be for you. He is not without compassion.” Crawford smiled.
“Indeed,” she said and thought the two men must surely be long-acquainted if Crawford Maguire could speak of the Duke in terms of his first name.
“And he would not wish to force you into his company.”
“Then what am I to do?”
“All he asks is two hours a day. Two hours in which to sit and talk in the drawing room every evening.”
“I see,” she said uncertainly.
“The rest of the time is your own to spend as you see fit.”
“Am I free to walk the grounds?”
“Of course, you are.” He laughed.
“And the Hall?”
“Anywhere you wish. Nowhere is out of bounds to you, Your Grace.”
Isabella chewed thoughtfully at her bottom lip; this was not what she had expected at all. And the idea that she might explore at will gave her a childish sense of excitement, almost as if she were being allowed free range in another’s home.
But, of course, it was her home now too.
“And you may direct the servants in any way you wish. Perhaps you would like to address the cook about menus and the housekeeper about any other matters. They are good staff and very attentive. I believe you have already been approached by Kitty in respect of the position of lady’s maid?”
“Yes. Kitty has been most kind.”
“She is a very fine woman.” He smiled warmly, and Isabella wondered if she might not find much in common with Crawford Maguire along the way.
“So, I must spend just two hours with the Duke daily?” Isabella wanted it confirmed.
“Yes, in the evening. Kitty will advise you of the time each day.”
“And I may keep to my … my own room?” Her cheeks flushed hot to have to discuss such a thing with a man she barely knew.
“Yes, of course. The Duke has hopes that you will find it most comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Isabella tried to hide the sweeping relief; she did not want this man to know how she dreaded laying with the Duke.
“I am here most days, Your Grace,” he began. “And I keep a chamber here and this study. If you have any problems or questions, I can generally be found somewhere on the estate or in the Hall.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and sensed that their meeting was drawing to a close.
When she finally made her way out into the corridor, she was pleased to see Kitty waiting for her.
Kitty had been right; she did feel a little better.