Chapter 11
“You did not attend church this Sunday past, Isabella.” Elliot did not question her harshly.
They had not met on the Sunday evening since Elliot had matters to discuss with Crawford Maguire, and he had waited until the Monday to inquire.
More than a week since her attendance at the village church, Isabella had not yet recovered from the shock of seeing her father and hearing his demands and threats.
If only she had attended the Coldwell Chapel and bitten back her own principals regarding the Minister, then she would never have seen her father, and he would not have been able to make his threat. He would not have been reminded of her existence in the world and, had he any thoughts of securing more money from the Duke of Coldwell; he would have been forced to approach the man on his own account.
Of course, Isabella had not yet ruled out the idea that she would never mention it to her husband and that her father would have to make his own addresses. And her mother would have to fend for herself, as Isabella had always done. Still, she could hardly bear to think of it and had as yet come to no conclusion.
“No, I did not attend.” Isabella wondered how she would explain it without telling the truth entirely. “I am afraid that the congregation made me feel most uncomfortable.”
“I daresay they had their questions and plenty of them.” Elliot sounded vaguely amused, and something about his tone made her feel a little better about it all.
“I think they did have plenty of questions, but not one of them had the courage to approach and ask. In fact, not one of them had the courage to approach me at all, not even to bid me a good morning.”
“A disfigurement such as mine is very far-reaching. I am sorry to tell you that you are now disfigured by association.” He laughed although it was not as full of mirth as it might have been.
“They may think what they will,” Isabella snapped angrily, although not at Elliot but at the thought of the congregation, the people who had once made up the circle of her acquaintance. “I do not care to return to that church.”
“Not attending a church does not necessarily make one godless, Isabella. A prayer can be made anywhere, can it not? Who is really to say that it needs to be made in front of men of assorted and occasionally dubious levels of devotion?”
“You make a good point, Elliot.” Isabella laughed, determined to lighten the mood. “But I think I shall attend the Coldwell Chapel with you to be on the safe side. After all, one cannot be too careful.”
“No, indeed.” Through the dim light of late evening, Isabella could see Elliot throw his head back as he laughed heartily.
Once again, she was struck by how affecting the sound was, how resonant and real. It had a quality which made her want to close her eyes and enjoy it all the more.
“And what of your family? Were they not in church last Sunday when you attended?” Elliot went on.
“Yes, they were,” Isabella said quietly.
“
“I hardly saw my mother; she was just a vague figure on the other side of the church. My brother, I did not care to look for, and my father appeared at the end of our pew for a few moments’ conversation at the end of the service. I did not stop long, for I did not wish to speak to him particularly.”
“But there is nothing troubling you on that account? Your parents and your brother are quite well, I trust?”
“They certainly seem to be in good health, I thank you.” Isabella did not want to continue to discuss her relations for fear that Elliot would probe further.
She understood now why it was that he did not wish to be pitied, for she knew that she did not wish it herself. Elliot, in his own words, had enjoyed the most excellent parents. Something about his great fortune in that regard made Isabella feel all the more impoverished in terms of her own family. She did not want to be reminded just how much had been missing in her world, how much was still missing.
“Perhaps, given time, you might feel a little differently about your father and even the church. As much as you say that you would wish to now attend the chapel here, you are not bound to do so. You are free to change your mind.”
“No, I shall stay here. At least the servants do not stare.”
“No, they do not. But then I have chosen them carefully. Or at least Kitty and Crawford have; I did not have anything to do with the interviewing. As you can imagine, such a thing would not work well.”
“Kitty and Crawford have chosen your staff?”
“Yes, I have given them free rein. They do not advertise, you see, but seek people out most specifically. They choose people who are discreet and are often friends of friends or distant family members. They are selected for their ability to understand my particular circumstances and to not discuss any part of my circumstances outside of the estate. They are very well reimbursed for their loyalty and very soon get used to my way of doing things. Those who do not care for my appearance are bright enough to find ways of working around it. I care not, as long as the estate is well cared for, the grounds tended, and the boundary maintained.”
“Kitty has been employed here for a number of years, has she not?”
“I can hardly remember a time before Kitty, that much is true. She arrived when I was a boy of no more than seven or eight years, and I cannot remember much before that anyway. She was a young woman then, of course, and I always liked her a good deal. Kitty would never put up with my antics, you see; she would never suffer any cheek or impertinence from the little boy who thought he was a little Duke in waiting.” Elliot laughed.
“I can quite well imagine Kitty being very firm indeed.” She laughed too as she thought of Elliot as a young boy.
He was a truly self-effacing man and, although he had described himself as perhaps an arrogant child, Isabella could not begin to compare him to her own brother, Anthony.
“She was very firm, and rightly so.” Elliot stretched his arms high above his head before collapsing his hands back into his lap once more. It was a very relaxed action, one which spoke of a growing comfort in her company. And as she stared at his handsome profile in the lamplight, Isabella realized that she found him very attractive indeed. It was a most confusing feeling because she did not know if she simply found half of him attractive or all of him. “And whenever I took my little tales of woe to my father, I would be in trouble all over again. He always took Kitty’s part and said that if she had cause to tell me off for anything, then that must surely mean that I had done something wrong.”
“And so, you learned to be a better young man.”
“Yes, I think I did.”
“I am certain of it.” Once again, she thought of Anthony.
He also traded heavily on the fact that he would one day hold a great title, just as the young Elliot had once done. However, Anthony had been raised that way and never once chastised for poor behaviour. He had not been steered away from arrogance by his father, just as the old Duke had steered Elliot away, but he had been pushed towards it. He was a young man who had been tipped into the same mould that his father had been fashioned from. It was a very different situation altogether, surely.
There was much that Isabella wanted to ask about it, or at least discuss. Such as Kitty’s time as lady’s maid to the last Duchess. But Isabella knew that to raise such subjects would be to pry. But she did not want the evening to end the way they had so often before, with Elliot turning suddenly silent and calling an early close to things.
“And you have known Mr Maguire for a long time?” She changed direction a little but knew that she was still questioning.
“I have known Crawford since we were boys at Eton. We became immediate friends in that way that young men do when they are sent away from home for the first time. And I daresay we have been firm friends ever since.”
“And does Mr Maguire live close to here?”
“Yes, he has a very fine manor house on the edge of the county. It is a little distance away, but he stays here a good deal. He has kept rooms here these last eighteen years, and it made good sense for me to provide him with a study since he undertakes a good part of my Duchy responsibilities for me. I would call him a steward if he were not my friend.” He paused for a moment. “He does not work so hard for me because he needs some occupation. My dear friend was all set for a life of leisure; that much is true. He is here purely and simply because of our friendship, and I know that I have much to be grateful for in that regard.”
“Mr. Maguire does not maintain any other sort of work then?”
“No, he is a gentleman in every sense and has a large fortune to rely upon. He helps me out of great kindness and because we are friends. I must admit, I had always imagined that Crawford would drift away from me little by little when he finally found himself a wife. I had fully expected it and would not have imposed upon him any longer. Of course, he is still a bachelor, but I daresay there is hope for him yet. Like me, he is but eight and thirty years, and I have every hope that he will find himself a very fine wife.”
“Yes, he is a very pleasant man,” Isabella said, recalling the details of their first and only conversation. “But I have never seen him since my first meeting with him. I think I had imagined seeing him about the place a good deal. At least that was the impression that I got in the beginning.”
“Yes, he is often to be found in his study or in the library. And he does spend a good deal of time with me also. You see, he has done his very best over the years to stave off the loneliness that comes with the sort of isolation I have imposed upon myself.”
“So, you still see him, Elliot?”
“Not quite as often in these last weeks.” Elliot smiled. “Because he now gathered that I am not quite as isolated as once I was, given that I am now a married man.” Elliot sounded a little unsure.
“Then you must miss him.”
“I do miss his company, but for its own sake. I do not miss him because I am pitying my own isolation, but because I miss Crawford as a person. He has always been extraordinary company, and when the two of us are in merriment over some ridiculous thing or other, I am reminded of the boys we once were. He is a very fine person, and I would not begrudge him his freedom now. I never sought to make him my keeper, and yet he appointed himself to that role.”
“Then he is a very fine man.”
“He is the finest friend I have ever had.” Elliot seemed to stare vaguely into the gloom. “Besides Kitty, Crawford is the only one who did not turn his back when I first became this way.” He raised a hand unconsciously to the ruined side of his face and left it there for a moment. “Everybody else seemed to disappear in a heartbeat. Friends, distant family, even servants hastened to find positions elsewhere. Some could not bear to look upon me and others, well…” He stopped and was silent.
Isabella wanted him to finish what he was saying; she wanted to hear it all.
Was there something to tell beyond his disfigurement? Had his servants abandoned him for some other reason? Something besides finding themselves unable to look upon his face?
“I think it is true to say, Elliot, that a person only really ever has one or two true friends in a lifetime. The rest are simply acquaintances and nothing more.” Isabella held her curiosity in check as her compassion took over. “I have only ever known the friendship of one person in this world, and I am sure that she will be my finest friend also until the day I die. Her name is Esme Montague, and we have known each other since we were children, just like you and Crawford. My family was not comfortable company for as long as I can remember, and yet Esme did what she could to ignore that and stuck fast to me no matter what. I daresay friendship like that cannot be matched or replaced, can it?”
“No, it most certainly cannot.” Elliot’s voice had grown a little distant, and Isabella began to think that he would soon withdraw altogether, and the evening would be over.
But she did not want the evening to be over.
“I would also wish that Esme would find a very fine marriage, just as you hope for Crawford. It is, perhaps, the best we can do for such fine people.”
“Do you miss your friend?” Elliot said quietly.
“I do miss her. Although I am very grateful that you have allowed me to maintain the correspondence.”
“What sort of a man did you think I was when you first came here? Did you really think I was such an ogre that I would not allow you any contact at all with the outside world?”
“You sound angry with me, Elliot, and I understand it. But you must understand that I did not know what sort of a man you were; and I did not know if, in your heart, you were an ogre or not. I was just afraid, and that was all. And so much was out of my control, everything was out of my control, and I think it a little harsh of you to blame me for my feelings at that time. But to answer your question as truthfully as I can, I had assumed that you would not allow contact with the outside world, yes.”
“Forgive me; you have every right to challenge my mood.”
“But I would not wish to.”
“Perhaps you do not wish to, but you must. It is very easy for a man in my circumstances to fall into self-pity and bitterness. But it is a place I have fought to keep myself out of these eighteen years, and I would be grateful to you if you would not allow me to indulge myself. You must challenge me, do you understand?”
“I understand, Elliot.” And she did.
Isabella knew exactly how it made a person feel to embrace the role of the victim. She knew exactly because she had felt it herself from the moment she realized what a cruel and uncaring man her father was. And to know how her mother would never defend her had only served to reinforce it, to make it real. Isabella had been a victim, and she had felt very sorry for herself. But there came a time when she realized that she had decided to see herself that way, had played the story of her life over and over again in her mind and almost encouraged herself to feel worse and worse. It was a spiral towards a seemingly bottomless pit, and one she would never care to visit again. And if she could do anything to keep Elliot from falling in, she would do it.
“And if you would like your friend to visit, you may ask her. It is true that I do not have visitors myself, besides Crawford, but there is no reason why you cannot. If you would care to, you must arrange it with Kitty.”
Isabella felt suddenly like crying. She knew what Elliot’s privacy meant to him, and how hard it would be for him to open the doors of his mythical, protected castle to the outside world. Even just one person.
And she understood entirely that arranging it with Kitty meant that Elliot had no intention of meeting Esme himself. For some reason, that made her feel dreadfully sad. If only she could come to terms with her own emotions and lay them out in order so that she might have a better idea of how to deal with them.
“Thank you, Elliot.” It was all that Isabella could think of to say, and she was surprised to hear her voice had given away her emotion.
In truth, she did not know if Esme could ever be tempted to come in through the tangled boundary and approach the monster’s lair.