“Isoline…”

That night, the man returned to her dream, and it was as though there had not been months of separation between them. She awoke, grabbed her robe, and stepped onto the wet grass. As she walked through the glen, she let her fingers caress the tips of the grass.

She knew he was there. She could sense him before he even approached. She stood still and let him get closer. She could feel his hand on her shoulder, hovering just beyond her skin. She broke out into gooseflesh and slightly shivered. From the corner of her eye, she could see his breath crystallizing in the night air. He was so close, yet she knew if she dared to try and look at him, he would vanish, and she wanted him to stay here with her.

“Thank you,” she said. “You told me that all would be well, and it has been. I don’t know if you played a part in it or if you just knew what my father and aunt were planning, but I am glad I didn’t return to Cyril or find a governess position. I am happy here.”

She heard him sigh in relief, and she felt his hand lay slightly on her shoulder. She teared up for happiness, but she dared not move for fear it would break the spell. They stood there together for an indeterminable amount of time—Isoline had never been able to decipher if time passed differently in her dreams—until the dream finally faded and she woke back in her own bed. She felt completely rested and at peace.

“I’ve had a note from Tristan,” her aunt announced as they ate luncheon together. At exactly noon, Aunt Bellamira had left her apartments and come downstairs where Isoline had been eagerly awaiting her. After her brisk walk the day before, she had returned filthy and exhausted and had proven to be poor company for her aunt for the afternoon and feel asleep early. Today, she intended to make up for it. She read quietly until Bellamira came downstairs and she was polite and attentive to every word the woman said, which wasn’t much while they ate, the mention of Tristan being the first thing of note she said.

“Oh?” Isoline asked as she sipped her broth, the first course of the meal. “Did he say anything interesting?”

“Not in the least,” Bellamira said as she waved the broth away and a pigeon compote was served along with some vegetables and bread. The food at Thornrush was something that Isoline was going to have to get used to. She was being served a large variety of food she had not eaten before and in such a quantity she was easily stuffed long before the dessert arrived. “Though he rarely does,” she continued.

“Are you not fond of Tristan?” Isoline asked.

“Fond?” Bellamira asked as though it was a ridiculous question. “Well, I suppose he is pleasant enough, but he calls so often I nearly think he lives here. He never sends a note, though. Just drops by unannounced. I rather think the advanced warning was more for your benefit than mine.”

“Mine?” Isoline asked, suddenly alarmed. “Why should he alert me to his visit?”

“He probably assumes you will want to be able to prepare yourself for his visit,” Bellamira said as she picked at her luncheon. “Most ladies go to such extremes in preparing their faces and hair for a gentleman caller.” Isoline noticed that her aunt never ate much of the exquisite food the cook prepared, which probably explained why she was so thin. Isoline tried to imitate her aunt’s peckish nature, but the food was so delicious she didn’t want a single morsel to remain on her plate.

Her face went hot at her aunt’s words. She had hoped that by coming to Thornrush she would be well away from any possible suitors. She hadn’t thought that she would have to start rebuffing advances from the very first man she met, the one who had saved her life! How could she turn him down when he was—by definition—her savior?

“Well, he has seen me at my worst already,” Isoline said, her own appetite suddenly gone. “I sure I looked quite a fright, rain-drenched and travel-worn. I’m surprised I didn’t frighten him off.” She chuckled even though she found the situation anything but funny.

“Is that what you want?” Bellamira asked, signaling for the dishes to be taken away and a dessert of burnt cream brought out.

“Not…exactly…” Isoline said, conflicted. She certainly did not want to be courted by Tristan, but she did not oppose to his company. And out here, amiable friends would be few and far between.

“Why aren’t you married, Isoline?” her aunt asked plainly. Isoline looked at her with her mouth slightly agape. Usually such directness would be considered rude. A topic like that was one usually beat around the bush about. Bellamira sensed Isoline’s shock and continued. “At my age, one doesn’t waste time stepping around topics of conversation. When one foot is in the grave, we must speak quickly before we fall in.”

Isoline couldn’t help but give a small sigh of relief. The rites of social niceties could be so exhausting. She was glad to have someone she could speak to with fewer constraints.

“I don’t know what my father has told you—” she began, but Bellamira cut in.

“He only said that your engagement had come to a sudden sad end and you needed some time away to recover,” she explained. “I thought maybe the poor chap had died or you had discovered he was a terrible rake, but you don’t look like a woman who has suffered some tragedy or heartache to me.”

Isoline shook her head. “No, it was nothing like that. If anything, I was the villain. Cyril loved me, and I broke his heart mercilessly.”

“Why would you do that?” Bellamira asked, listening intently.

“I…I don’t exactly know,” she lied and hoped Bellamira didn’t notice. Even though she was glad to be able to speak frankly with her aunt, she didn’t think her aunt would be accepting if she admitted to ending her engagement over a dream. “I never loved him, but that was not why I ended it. I know marriage is not usually about love. But at the engagement party, I was gripped by such an abject terror, I simply couldn’t go on. I felt a sudden revulsion at his touch, and I knew that if I continued with the charade, only abject misery would follow.”

She looked at her aunt, expecting the woman to react harshly to such words. It made no sense for her to call off the engagement for no real reason. But she couldn’t read her aunt’s expression because she wasn’t reacting at all. She was simply listening. She didn’t even say anything during what became a very long pause in Isoline’s tale. She seemed to just be waiting for Isoline to continue without prodding.

“I’m sorry,” Isoline finally continued. “I must seem very ridiculous to you.”

“There is nothing ridiculous about knowing your own mind, Isoline,” Bellamira said. “You might not yet know why you ended things with this Cyril, and maybe you never will. But you know you couldn’t marry him, and it took a lot of strength to admit that. Most girls would simply have gone on with it even when they know they shouldn’t. More people should listen to that little voice of warning in the back of their mind. We’d probably all be happier for it.”

Isoline nearly cried in relief. “Oh, auntie,” she said. “I never thought anyone would understand me.”

Bellamira stood, indicating luncheon and the conversation was at an end. “Well, I never said I understood you,” she clarified. “After all, I married. I did my duty. I only never lived to regret it since…” She paused and took a pained breath. “The earl died quite soon after we married, you see.”

Isoline nodded. She did not know how young Bellamira had been when her husband died, but since they did not have children, she assumed they could not have been married for long.

“He was companionate enough, but…Well, that’s enough nostalgia for today, I should think. If you don’t want Tristan to call, I shall simply reply and tell him to bugger off.”

“Oh, no,” Isoline said. “I don’t object to his company, but only as a friend. He saved my life, and he is family, of a sort. I only don’t want to be expected to accept him as anything more.”

“Hmm,” Bellamira replied with a nod. “I see. Well, he will be here at two o’clock for tea.”

“My dear cousin!” Tristan exclaimed as he crossed the room toward her. “How lovely to see you looking so…lovely!” He gripped her hands in his and kissed the back of each one excitedly.

Isoline had taken some care with her appearance. Wearing a bit of powder and lip paint and smoothing her hair. She was wearing another old-fashioned gown. Poor Jenny had been doing what she could to clean and repair Isoline’s clothes, and while she had done wonders at saving many pieces, she had yet to recreate a complete outfit. Isoline feared it would only be a matter of days before she would have to ask Bellamira to provide her with a new wardrobe. While Bellamira was expected to care for her new ward, including making sure she was well-clothed, no one could have expected for her to need an entirely new retinue so soon after arriving. Even though Bellamira clearly had more money than Croesus, Isoline had no idea how miserly her aunt was, if at all. Would she balk at such an expense, or would it be nothing to her? It was a conversation Isoline preferred to put off for as long as possible.

“Tristan,” Isoline said, leading him over to the same set of couches as before. When he sat, he seemed to think she would sit next to him, but she slipped her hands from his grasp and sat across from him. “I am glad to see you,” she said, motioning for Talbot to serve the tea.

“And I you,” he said. “I was hoping you were recovering well from your accident.”

“Oh yes,” Isoline said. “Quite well. My aunt is so kindly, and the staff have been quite gentle with me, making sure my every need is met.”

Talbot handed a teacup and saucer with a variety of sweet and savory snacks on it to Tristan, who addressed him directly. “I am glad to hear of it, Talbot.”

“Not at all, sir,” Talbot said. “It is our privilege to care for the young miss.”

“Do you see how they dote on me?” Isoline said as she accepted her teacup in her turn. “Talbot took such care with my books, you wouldn’t know they ever spent a night in the rain.”

“You enjoy reading?” Tristan asked. “Romances and poetry, no doubt,” he said with a chuckle at his own joke.

“Not at all,” Isoline was quick to correct him. “Oh, I enjoy the occasional romance, to be sure. But I far more enjoy the mental rigger of philosophy.”

Tristan laughed again. “Aristotle? Socrates?”

“For a start,” Isoline said as she sipped her tea. “But their ideas, while novel for their time, are quite rudimentary and outdated now, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tristan replied as he fidgeted with his saucer. “It is hard to compete with the classics.”

“I agree,” Isoline said. “Many people don’t want to argue with convention, but I appreciate those who do, such as Adam Smith or Hildegard of Bingen. And I think Mary Wollstonecraft writes some rather shocking things, but smart truths as well. But my heart has a special place for Descartes.”

“And why her?” Tristan asked as he sipped at his tea.

“You mean him?” Isoline asked helpfully.

“Oh, of course,” Tristan said. “My mind was still on your affection for Mary.”

Isoline nodded. “Well, Descartes wrote about dreams, something I am very interested in.”

“And why is that?” he asked, though he didn’t seem particularly interested as he sat back comfortably and eyed his teacup.

Isoline shrugged. “I have always had very vivid dreams. I can’t help but wonder if there is any meaning to them. Descartes said, ‘Et tout de même qu'un esclave qui jouissait dans le sommeil d'une liberté imaginaire, lorsqu'il commence à soupçonner que sa liberté n'est qu'un songe, craint d'être réveillé, et conspire avec ces illusions agréables pour en être plus longuement abusé, ainsi je retombe insensiblement de moi.’”

Tristan’s mouth quirked up to one side, so Isoline politely translated the quote to English.

“‘I am like a prisoner who happens on enjoy an imaginary freedom in his dreams and who subsequently begins to suspect that he is asleep and, afraid of being awakened, conspires silently with his agreeable illusions,’” she said. “I think many women find a freedom in their dreams that they are unable to find in their waking hours.”

“That must explain why women sleep so much,” Tristan said with a laugh.

Isoline gave a polite smile but did not agree. She decided not to waste her time trying to discuss philosophy with him further. She sadly had to accept that even here in Thornrush, she would not find someone willing and able to discuss her interests.  

“So where is our dear aunt?” Tristan asked as he handed his cup to Talbot.

“She should be down presently,” Isoline said. “But I am glad of her delay. I wanted a chance to thank you, truly and properly, for your assistance the other night. Surely, if you had not come upon me when you did I would have died. I can never thank you enough.”

“I am glad to have been of such assistance, dear cousin,” he said. “But you needn’t give me such credit. You may have caught a cold from being in the rain, but surely would not have died.”

“No,” Isoline said. “I am sure of it. In the carriage, the smoke and ash. If you hadn’t…”

The parlor door opened and Bellamira entered. “Forgive the delay, nephew,” Bellamira said as Tristan rose and ran over to grip her hands. “You bothered to actually send a notice of your arrival so I thought I should go to the effort of making myself presentable.”

“You could wear a bag and be presentable, auntie,” Tristan said as he kissed her cheek.

Bellamira moved to the couch and indicated she would like a cup of tea, which Talbot quickly brought her.

“What did I miss?” Bellamira asked.

“A rousing discussion of French philosophy,” Tristan said.

“Ugh, the French,” Bellamira said, shaking her head. “The less we speak of them, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Tristan said with a laugh. “I am glad you are both here, though. I wanted to ask your permission, dear auntie, to call on Isoline more often.”

“She is your cousin and you live just down the road,” Bellamira said, feigning ignorance. “You can call whenever you like.”

“You are too kind,” he said. “But I meant in more of a…formal capacity. She has filled my mind continually since we met the other night, and I hope she may grow to fill my heart as well.”

Isoline shifted uncomfortably. Even though she knew this would happen and had done her best to prepare for it, she found the right words for a response were not quick in coming.

“As I said, Tristan,” she began. “I am so grateful that you happened upon me the other night. Truly, you saved my life.”

“You exaggerate,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “But if it will end this tedious discussion, I accept your thanks.”

She nodded her appreciation. “And I am glad to have you as a neighbor and…cousin,” she went on, still not comfortable equating this near stranger as family. “I am new here and there are few people in area who would make a suitable acquaintance.” Even though she had come across a surprising number of people on her walk, she knew the boundaries between classes well, and she did not think her aunt would take kindly to her becoming bosom friends with the washerwomen from the creek. Finding close companions from her own social class in such a rural area would be a challenge.

“I am more than happy to fill whatever gaps there are in your life, Isoline,” Tristan said as he reached across the divide and gripped her hand.

Isoline instinctively breathed in as though she had been burned and tried to pull her hand back but caught herself before delivering such an insult. “I am glad to hear of it,” she said. “I so look forward to counting you among my friends.”

He leaned back and released her hand, disappointment clear on his face. “Friends?” he asked.

Isoline nodded. “A dear friend,” she restated.

“Ah, I see,” he said as he stood.

“I do hope I have not offended you,” Isoline said quickly as she stood as well.

“No, no, of course not,” he said as he tried to mask his discomfort. “After all, what are family members but very good friends? I think I shall take my leave.” He moved toward the door, but then stopped and looked back at her.

“I hope you do not think me too forward, cousin,” he said. “But I feel that in the new spirit of friendship I should say something. I heard that you came across that indolent tenant, Auberon Drochia.”

At just the mention of his name, Isoline felt a rush of heat in her chest. She only prayed it did not reach her face.

“I…happened upon many of the tenants of the estate yesterday,” she quickly said. “But I believe he was one them.”

“Our aunt, because of her kind heart and out of respect for his family, allows him to remain on the property,” he said.

“How dare you say such a thing about my heart!” Bellamira snapped.

“Be that as it may,” Tristan continued, “I feel it is my duty to warn you that the man is a rake and of no quality. It would be best to steer well clear of him.”

Isoline pressed her lips and nodded. Of course she had been foolish to think that she would have any freedom from having a controlling man in her life by being hundreds of miles from her father.

“You are…so kind,” Isoline finally managed through a tight smile. “I will give your words the full weight of measure they deserve.”

“That is all I ask,” he said as he gave a quick short bow and then left the parlor.

Isoline squeezed her hands together tightly and waited for her anger to cool before returning to her seat across from her aunt.

“I suppose the full weight of that measure is none at all?” her aunt inquired with a raised brow as she sipped her tea.

Isoline smiled in relief. “I meant what I said about not wanting to find a suitor,” she said. “Please don’t think I did anything to jeopardize my reputation with Mr. Drochia. It was truly an accident that we met yesterday and we barely exchanged a few words before I quickly excused myself.”

Bellamira shook her head. “I know Auberon quite well,” she said. “He is a perfect gentleman. I have no concerns about that.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Isoline said.

“I may be old, and I may have been a widow for many years, but men never change,” Bellamira said. “If anything, the man to worry about will be Tristan. If he has his eye on you, I doubt he will give up that easily.”

Isoline wrung her hands again. She had a feeling her aunt was right.