As the weeks continued, Lady Abigail often visited Jacqueline during school. She also started to invite Isabella to tea in her private sitting room in the late afternoon.
Isabella wouldn’t say no to such an invitation. She knew it was given purely out of loneliness and couldn’t fault Lady Abigail for it. Often, Her Grace would join them in the afternoon.
Mrs. Peterson made it abundantly clear, with her looks and huffs, that she didn’t approve of Isabella in the central part of the house, and most unquestionably not to social afternoons with the ladies of the house.
Nothing could be directly said against it, though, since Her Grace was present at these social encounters. Mrs. Peterson, so prim and proper, though not agreeing, would never dream to go against the duchess.
Isabella was enjoying the company and friendship that came along with Lady Abigail being home. Isabella's first few weeks had been so secluded from any other person, she feared she would die of loneliness.
Of course, she had her mornings and afternoons with Jacqueline and was often able to chat with Mrs. Murray during lunch, but she was missing the companionship and social gatherings she had lived for in London.
Isabella also enjoyed the time because, as the ladies sat in the small drawing room, they worked on some embroidery. It was a favorite pastime of Isabella’s since she was a child.
Isabella took the opportunity to walk to town, after a few weeks, and picked up some supplies to embroider. It didn’t take long for her to decide what to make first.
She had sewn a small dress for Jacqueline’s favorite doll and was making progress adding lace and small blue rosettes to decorate the garment.
Teatime with Lady Abigail was the perfect time for her to work on the dress while keeping it a secret from Jacqueline.
Jacqueline’s seventh birthday was four short weeks away, in the middle of June, and Isabella wanted to give it to her as a gift.
“Do ye fash much if I try somethin’ a lil more fancy with yer hair today, Miss Watts?” Betsy asked Isabella one morning as she brushed out the long black locks.
“I don’t want to make you late,” Isabella answered with concern.
“It won't take long at all. Nancy showed me just yesterday how ter make a nice plait. I was hopin’ to try it out. You have to take Miss Jacqueline to His Grace tonight. It might be nice to look a lil finer.”
“Okay, if you are sure you won't be in trouble for the extra time.”
Isabella enjoyed the mornings she spent with Betsy, who often talked about the other servants and things that happened downstairs. She was assuredly in the space of limbo, spending her mornings with Betsy discussing the servants’ troubles and her evenings with the ladies of the house, talking over matters of the town.
After Betsy finished, Isabella did her best to feel around, still with no way to see.
“Oh here, Miss Watts. I brought this out of my own room,” Betsy said, handing Isabella a small, round piece of mirror.
It was the first time that Isabella had seen her reflection since moving to Wintercrest. She examined the dark curls that were neatly pinned with small ringlets flowing down her left shoulder. It was as beautiful as any lady’s maid might do.
Isabella also took a quick moment to steal a look at her face. Though she had never spent much time in the sun in London without a bonnet, she was decidedly paler now. Her green eyes even looked a little grayer than usual.
Isabella stuffed down her feelings of altogether disappearing in this small room, so removed from the rest of the world. It didn’t do any good to dwell on things that would make her unhappy. She gave back the mirror to Betsy.
“I believe this the finest job I have ever seen. I look ready to see the Queen, herself,” Isabella complimented.
“Thank ye,” Betsy said shyly, but with a bit of pride in her work.
“I suspect you will be a lady’s maid in no time. Well, that is if the dashing Mr. Johnson you tell me so much about doesn’t steal you away first.”
Betsy blushed. Isabella hadn’t met Mr. Johnson. He was the son of a tenant farmer near town. Betsy had met him once at the weekly market. Since then, he had waited by the road each week for Betsy. He would walk with her to the market and back again, stopping at his father's farm.
Betsy made him sound very handsome, and she was convinced that soon, he would start to court her in seriousness. Isabella loved to hear Betsy talk of him. It was that exciting chatter of someone finding love.
***
“How were Jacqueline’s studies today?” Lady Wintercrest asked in the small drawing room over her own embroidery.
“She did very well,” Isabella responded. “We practiced addition facts today. She is taking to them very quickly. I believe she will have a terrific knack for numbers, Your Grace.”
“I thought I heard her small forte the other day, as well. Are you teaching her to play?”
“Yes. Lord Bellfourd requested that she play him a song upon his return.”
“And is that going well?” she asked.
“As much as can be expected for a child of such a young age,” Isabelle replied. “Our goal is to learn one song before Lord Bellfourd’s return. I am hoping it isn’t too high of an aspiration.”
“As you said, though, she is very young,” Lady Abigail chimed in. “Christian will just have to be satisfied with what he gets.”
“Perhaps you will have her play for us tonight,” Lady Wintercrest invited. “I don’t expect it to be wonderful, but it might be nice for the duke to see her taking up the accomplishment.”
“I would be happy to have her share all that she has learned thus far.”
Isabella enjoyed the fact that she wasn’t the only one desperately trying to encourage the duke to accept Jacqueline into his heart.
“I suppose the dressing-bell is going to ring soon,” Lady Abigail said, leaning to look at the clock on the mantle over the small fireplace.
Lady Abigail wasn’t one to enjoy sitting and doing needlework. In fact, every day that Isabella had sat to tea with her, she found that Lady Abigail went from reading a book to working on some embroidery, to working some lace, and back to reading a book.
Isabella agreed that the hour was getting late and it was time for the ladies to dress for dinner. She began to pack away her embroidery in the small bag she had brought along with her.
“Why don’t you join us tonight, Isabella?” Lady Abigail blurted out without thought. Isabella enjoyed that Lady Abigail had taken her encouragement to call her by her Christian name.
“Abigail,” her mother cooed in a warning, but soft tone, “as much as I know we would both enjoy Miss Watts’ company at dinner, I don’t think your father would approve.”
“It’s so silly, the way Father is acting, as of late. He never cared about such things before. Do you know, he has Isabella all the way at the end of the west wing up in the attic? It’s a ridiculous walk for her.”
“I really don’t mind it at all,” Isabella interjected before Lady Wintercrest might think she was ungrateful.
“I am sorry for this situation, none the less,” Lady Wintercrest replied. Her soft brown eyes filled with sincerity. “As Abigail said, things weren’t always like this. Since the situation with James and…” Lady Wintercrest paused, deciding against speaking of family matters. “Well, my husband feels that he let our younger children be too lax with propriety.”
She turned to Lady Abigail, “It wasn’t that he didn't mind, he just didn’t see the harm. Things are different now. We must respect his wishes.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Isabella said to comfort the worried look on Lady Wintercrest’s brow. “I would never have assumed otherwise.”
“I know, my dear,” Lady Wintercrest said, reaching across the tea table and patting Isabella’s hand lovingly.
Isabella sat alone in her room to eat her dinner before taking Jacqueline down to her grandfather. She wondered what Lady Wintercrest had meant by harm. She had started to speak of Lord James and then stopped. Was it after finding out he had fathered a child by a commoner that the duke had insisted on creating a more profound separation between his family and others?
Mrs. Peterson had been hired on after the arrival of Jacqueline. Other than the duke himself, she seemed the sole enforcer of stations. In fact, neither Lady Abigail nor Lord Bellfourd seemed like it was commonplace. Isabella imagined it was a drastic change to have their father suddenly make demands on them that were never made before.
Her heart sank deeper as she thought of the duke. If Jacqueline was ‘the harm’ that the Duchess spoke of, no wonder His Grace kept a distance from the child. He had called her here to find closure and instead saw her as a stain on his son's memory.
Isabella determined, at that moment, that she would do everything in her power to help the duke find a place in his heart for the little girl. She would show him that this small child was capable of so much more than he thought. Isabella would prove to him that Jacqueline could be raised a proper young lady and, in doing so, hopefully, find her a place as part of the Duke of Wintercrest’s family.