Isoline was relieved that Tristan did not call on her again over the next several days. He did send her a book of French poetry, which she accepted gladly. He might not have been interested in or understood what she had told him the other day, but at least he had listened…somewhat. She sent him a note thanking him for the thoughtful gift and reiterated her appreciation for their friendship.

She was settling comfortably into her new life. Every day, after Bess helped her wash and dress, she would eat breakfast and then head out for a walk. She knew better than to walk quite so far as the first time and rarely left the confines of the estate proper. She was disappointed that she did not come across Auberon again, but knew it was probably for the best if she wished to keep to her resolve to allow no man to court her.

She would then spend the rest of the morning reading while she waited for her aunt to join her for luncheon. The two would embroider together, read, chat, and play cards until dinner. After which the two would usually enjoy a small glass of port before retiring to their own quarters for the evening to do what they willed.

It was a gentle, easy life, and Isoline was happy to be living it for the time being. She knew that eventually she would get terribly bored and need to find something more taxing to keep her from climbing the walls, but she had only been at Thornrush for less than two weeks and imagined she was on a sort of restful holiday.

But her holiday ended when she received a letter from Royston.

Isoline nearly rent the letter in two in frustration. Always were the clever one, indeed! If she had an ounce of sense she could see through her brother’s pleasant correspondence for what it truly was—a reminder that her true purpose at Thornrush Manor was to fleece an inheritance out of her elderly aunt.

Of course, if Bellamira did leave her an inheritance, she would be happy to accept it, but she didn’t want to…seduce it out of her, for lack of a better phrase. She was grateful that her grand-aunt had taken her in, and was truly enjoying her life here. She did not want to taint that by acting like some sort of treasure hunter.

At the same time, she knew that her family expected it of her. They wanted her to do her utmost to become Bellamira’s heir not to help herself, but the whole family. The same as her marriage to Cyril was not for her own benefit, but to the benefit of the family. She was not a sole human tossed about on an empty sea. She was a daughter, a sister, an aunt. She was a member of a family, and she needed to play her proper role.

And it certainly was an honor that Mr. Marsdale had agreed to tutor Oliver. Mr. Marsdale had been a tutor to the princes when they were young, but instead of tutoring the next generation of royals, he had become an itinerant tutor due to his belief that all young men, not just the nobility, deserved a quality education. As far as she knew, Mr. Marsdale did not extend such beliefs to educating girls, but for a boy like Oliver, such a tutor could indeed change his life. If she could help finance his education, she would. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for spending the afternoon ingratiating herself to her grand-aunt.

“I won again,” Bellamira declared as she placed the winning card on the table.

Isoline sighed in frustration. “This is becoming quite tedious.” She had just lost three games in a row to Bellamira, only the first one intentionally.

“Oh, this whole day is becoming rather tedious, don’t you think?” Bellamira asked as she collected the cards and straightened them to replace them in their card sleeve.

“I have been enjoying my time here, auntie,” Isoline said. “But I have been wondering if I should find something more productive to do with my time.”

“Such as?” Bellamira asked.

“I have no idea,” Isoline said. “Most of my education centered around keeping house, of course. Sewing, a bit of cooking. Just enough reading to make conversation but not so much to appear dull. But all of that was to prepare for marriage and a family. Now that neither is on the table, I’m not quite sure how to occupy my time.”

“Yes,” Bellamira said. “I can see how life in the country could be quite boring for a young woman.”

“How have you kept your mind sharp all these years you have lived alone?” Isoline asked.

“Oh, well I have never lived truly alone,” Bellamira said. “I have more staff than I can count, not to mention the other matters of the estate.”

“I would love to learn more about that,” Isoline said. “It must be so complicated to run a house like this. Almost like a large business.”

“Not only like one, but actually one,” Bellamira said as she stood and walked to a large window that looked out over the rolling hills of the land around the estate. “I employ more people than most private companies in London. As do most of the upper nobility. Combined, the aristocracy employs a third of the British workforce.”

Isoline felt her jaw drop. “I had no idea.”

“Most people don’t,” Bellamira said. “All this talk in the papers about abolishing the monarchy and turning out the private houses. Foolishness. Thousands of good British folk would find themselves out of work, out of home, out of food, the whole country would be out of order, much like the French were half a century ago. Many of us can still remember those days.”

Isoline realized that her grand-auntie indeed was as old as she claimed if she could still remember the French Revolution.

“Even though it was happening across the channel, it must have been so frightening to hear of what was happening,” Isoline said.

“Indeed, it was,” Bellamira said with a nod. “But thankfully such radical ideals never took root here. I know some people still wax poetic about such a utopia without landowners and peasants, but there is a natural order to everything in the world. God made it so. High and low, rich and poor. We all have a place and a part to play.”

Isoline wasn’t quite sure about all that. She thought about her own lack of education simply because she was a girl and how much she resented it. She imagined the poor must also feel slighted for being born into a life they had no control over and then seemingly punished for it for the whole of their existence. But Isoline kept her opinions to herself since she didn’t want to argue with her aunt and risk upsetting her.

“Still, you must have had some hobby or passion to keep you occupied?” she tried. “Surely managing the estate doesn’t take up all of your time.”

“Well, I do have a soft spot for art,” Bellamira said.

“I’ve noticed,” Isoline said. “Just walking the halls here is like being in an art museum. You have so many exquisite pieces.”

“You should see the bedrooms,” Bellamira said with a chuckle. “Some rooms don’t have any furniture in them, just four walls of paintings and then stacks of them on the floors.”

“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t,” Isoline explained. “I tried a few of the other doors on my floor, but they are all locked.”

“Oh!” Bellamira exclaimed. “That’s right! I forget because if I need something I just send for Talbot. But we do keep the unused rooms locked, isn’t that right, Talbot?”

“That’s right, your ladyship,” Talbot said, and Isoline nearly started. She was getting so used to having him stand quietly in the background whenever Bellamira was around she nearly forgot he was there.

“Can you bring an extra key for Isoline?” Bellamira asked.

“Of course, your ladyship,” he said and silently slipped out of the room.

“I actually have a new painting arriving soon,” Bellamira said. “I have a buyer, over on the continent. She goes to auctions and estate sales for me and visits with new up and coming artists. When she sees a piece she thinks I will like, she buys it for me and ships it over.”

“You employ a woman to buy art for you?” Isoline asked, surprised and confused. She had never heard of such a job.

“Oh yes,” Bellamira said. “I’m very lucky to have her since I…well, I could never get over there on my own.”

“Have you not traveled, auntie?” Isoline asked. “No family to tie you down here and surely plenty of money. You must have traveled extensively.”

Bellamira frowned and looked back out the window as she fiddled with her collar. “Yes, I suppose I should have,” she said sadly.

Isoline realized that Bellamira had not once left the house since she had arrived, not even opened a window. She wondered if Bellamira was a recluse. It was possible. She had everything she needed delivered or taken care of by her staff. Isoline realized she had made a terrible blunder, but she wasn’t sure how to recover. Thankfully, Talbot returned at that moment.

“I have found a key, your ladyship,” he announced.

Bellamira’s face brightened as she walked to him and took the key. “Thank you so much, Talbot.” He gave a small bow and backed away. Bellamira then motioned for Isoline to follow her.

“I’ll show you the first room, then you can explore on your own,” Bellamira explained as she ascended the stairs. “Feel free to take note of three or four paintings you like and we can have them placed in your room.”

“That would be wonderful,” Isoline said. “It would make my room more my own.”

“Exactly,” Bellamira said. They turned down the hallway toward Isoline’s room but stopped at the first door. Bellamira slipped the key into the lock and opened the door with ease. Isoline had no idea how often the doors were used, but she was surprised when the hinges didn’t so much as squeak.

The room was quite dark, so Isoline walked over and pulled open the curtains, sending a swirl of dust motes into the air, which she swished away from her face. When she turned around, she was indeed shocked at the number of paintings that greeted her. There must have been dozens in this room alone! Every space on the wall held a painting, and indeed there were several on the floor leaning against the wall and furniture as though waiting for an available space to open up.

Like the ones she had seen in the hallway, the pieces here were an eclectic mix. British, French, Greek, and oriental designs all stood side by side as though attending the most fascinating garden party.

“I know,” Bellamira said. “You must think I have a terrible addiction.”

“Oh no,” Isoline said as she surveyed several paintings while not moving from one spot. “It is a marvelous collection! I don’t think I will be able to choose only three or four for my rooms.”

“Well choose a dozen,” Bellamira said. “We can rotate them out every season.”

“Is every room in house like this?” Isoline asked.

“Well, not every room,” Bellamira said. “We have some guestrooms that are only home to a few artfully placed pieces and a few other rooms for other functions. But, yes, most of the rooms in the house are probably as cluttered with art as this one.”

“It will take me forever just to look at each one,” Isoline said. “I am certain this will keep my mind busy for the foreseeable future.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Bellamira said. “We can talk about your favorite pieces at dinner. Speaking of which, I need to speak with the cook. I’ll leave you to your exploring, dear.”

Isoline happily spent the next hour looking at every piece in the room, and when she was done, she was excited to move on to the next one. She wondered if there was any sort of cataloging system. She would never remember which ones were her favorites or where to find them without some sort of notation. She went to her room and grabbed a notebook and pencil before moving on to the next room.

She decided to be as orderly as possible about it and went all the way to the end of the hallway. The sun was setting and the servants didn’t bother to light the lamps down the unused hall, so it was a bit dark, but she went to the very last door and used her key to open it.

As expected, the room was dark. She crossed to the window and threw open the blinds. When she turned around, she nearly screamed and dropped her notebook.

She was looking at herself.

Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and it was only after she willed herself to breathe did she realize she was looking at the portrait her mother must have sent to Bellamira many years before.

She was not sure why the painting unnerved her, but she thought it must have simply been the surprise of seeing her own face where she did not expect it. But there was also something slightly…off about the painting, but she wasn’t sure what. She took a step closer to it to get a better look.

The girl in the painting had the same nose, the same cheekbones, the same chin that she remembered. She had the same full dark hair that was pulled back into tight curls. But there was something different about the eyes. The eyes looking back at her were not her own. At that, she realized the color was wrong. While her eyes were a deep doe brown, the eyes of the girl in the painting were bright blue.

They were the eyes of her aunt.

Isoline had noticed a familiarity in Bellamira’s face when they first met, but she hadn’t realized just how similar they looked. Of course, Bellamira was nearly seventy years older than Isoline, but still, the similarities were striking and she was surprised she had never noticed it before.

She shook her head and turned away, the painting of a young woman who looked so much like herself and yet was not her too jarring to continue starring at. Yet when she turned, she was met with yet another rendition of herself. This one, though, she recognized. This one was her. It had to have been the painting her mother sent to Bellamira on her behalf.

She took the painting of herself and set it next to the painting of Bellamira. She certainly wasn’t imagining it. As she looked at the painting of herself from merely six years ago alongside the painting of a young Bellamira, the likenesses could not be ignored. Other than the color of the eyes and the style of clothes, the girls in the paintings could have been sisters.

More than that, they could have been twins.