“I have some fun news for you,” Lady Abigail said as she walked up to Isabella.
It was now just two days before Jacqueline’s birthday and Isabella was frantically doing her best to finish the lace cuffs on her small dress.
Isabella had found a seat out in the garden to do her work today as it was one of those rare days of sun. She even went as far as to remove her bonnet, like Lady Abigail so often did when she was outside.
Lady Abigail came to sit next to Isabella on the stone bench with a few letters waving in her hand.
“I have a letter from Christian,” Lady Abigail continued.
Over the last few months that they had spent under the same roof, Lady Abigail and Isabella had become close friends. As long as they were out of the eyes of the duke, they were able to chat and visit just as Isabella had once done with Louisa.
“Mmm,” Isabella responded, looking fixedly at a particularly tricky stitch.
“He says that on the night he wrote this letter,” she flipped the page back to look at the date, “four days ago, he went to a lavish ball held by the Earl of Cunningham.”
Isabella knew the name well. She had gone to school with Lady Lydia Prescott, daughter of the Earl of Cunningham. Isabella didn’t regularly have trouble getting along with people, but Lady Lydia was particularly unfriendly toward her.
As best as she could guess, Lady Lydia had been a favorite of Mrs. Mason until Isabella had arrived. She never liked when Isabella was presented before prospective parents to recite her French. Isabella didn’t have any sour feelings toward Lady Lydia in return, but made sure to avoid her so as not to develop any.
“While he was there he made the acquaintance of your dear friend, Lady Louisa.”
This got Isabella’s attention. She put her embroidery down and turned to Lady Abigail.
“You see, I told him about her. Well, what you told me of her, anyway.”
Isabella smiled. Lady Abigail was always one to pass along any story, no matter how trivial.
“He said that he danced with her twice and found her to be a very welcome dance partner. He sang wonderful praises of her and also her older brother, Viscount Dunthorpe,” Lady Abigail added looking back at her letter. “I suppose you must have also met the Viscount?”
“Who? Oh, Colton. Yes,” Isabella said, not recognizing his proper title at first. “He is just barely a year above Louisa. I am sure your brother and Colton really got along, too. Colton is such a jokester,” she said with a whimsical tone.
Though Colton was a good brother, and very close to his sister, he had enjoyed playing pranks on them as children when Isabella stayed with Louisa on holiday breaks from school.
“Do you miss London, then?” Lady Abigail asked softly, placing a hand on top of Isabella's.
She knew that Lady Abigail was speaking of the people she left behind more than the place itself.
“I do miss Louisa, her whole family really. They were always so kind to me. Often, Father was away on extended voyages and the Lady Gilchrist was kind enough to invite me to family dinners.”
“It must have been so lonely to have your father always away.”
“Not really,” Isabella answered. In all honesty, she never knew any other way, and so couldn’t be sad for it. “I was at Mrs. Mason’s school from eleven to seventeen. I had plenty of companions there and enough work to keep me busy.”
“And later, when you were done with your schooling?”
“I had Louisa. We met at school, you see. And, as I said, her family often invited me to join them for dinner and parties.”
“I love the stories you tell Jackie about your father. It must have been wonderful when he did come home and spun such amazing tales for you. They remind me so much of Christian,” Lady Abigail said with melancholy.
“You must be very close to Lord Bellfourd to miss him so.”
“We were, growing up, despite our age difference. Christian, Mother, and I were like three peas in a pod. I didn’t really know James that well; he was almost fifteen years older than myself. He was grown and gone by the time I was really old enough to remember much.”
“Gone?”
“Oh, you know, he would stay at the house in London or go to France. He had a very adventurous spirit in that way. Not like Christian adventurous. It was more like he wanted to sample all that life had to offer.”
“I remember when Christian left for the navy,” Lady Abigail continued, “I was so sad and lonely. I know it wasn’t for the best reason, but I was happy when he was able to come home. He would always write me letters of his time out at sea, but I suspected he kept much of the harsher realities of that life away from me. I worried about him so much.”
“I’ve heard Lord Bellfourd tell a story or two to Jackie about his time in the navy,” Isabella said. “Do you think he misses it much?”
“I am not sure if it is so much missing being in the navy, though certainly, he did enjoy it, but more the freedom he was allowed.”
“What do you mean? I would guess any form of the military to be very strict?”
“That’s true. Christian wrote me a few times in the beginning that he would be treated severely if his buttons were not shined properly and the like,” Lady Abigail said with a little laugh. “It was more the freedom of not having father’s constant attention.”
“I sometimes think that is why James stayed away so much. Father is a hard person to truly please. He put a lot of pressure on James, as the eldest son. Christian and I were free to do whatever we wanted. Father never bothered with either of us.”
“I have noticed that His Grace can be a little severe on his family,” Isabella said, as delicately as possible.
She was thinking of Jackie and wondering if that precious little girl would ever meet her grandfather’s standards.
“He is so stuffy,” Lady Abigail let out in a huff. “When we were little, Mother was always a good barrier between him and us. He has gotten so much worse now.”
“He doesn’t care much for Jackie,” Isabella said cautiously.
Lady Abigail gave a little shrug of defeat. “He doesn’t like the ‘impropriety of her existence,’” she said, deepening her voice to sound like her father. “I think he fears getting to know her. Then, he would love her as the rest of us do. It would prove his silly standards wrong.”
“I am sure it was tough for His Grace, for all of you, to lose a member of your family so suddenly. Perhaps he just needs time to mourn, in his own way, and then he will come around.” Isabella said this, hoping it to be true, else all her work to endear the child to him was for naught.
“I think Father’s mourning over James stopped the day he got the letter. He was so upset that James had done something so shameful. He put so much pressure on James to always do what was proper, to live the scrutinized life of a duke, even as a child. Father felt betrayed when he learned of Jackie.”
“Surely he shouldn’t put that blame on Jackie, though,” Isabella replied, doing her best to understand the Duke of Wintercrest.
“I couldn’t agree with you more. Sadly, she is the one left to shoulder that weight, and so she must, in my father’s eyes.”
“I am certain there must be a way to soften his heart,” Isabella said, revealing her desires in the name of her pupil.
“I wish you the best of luck in that regard,” Lady Abigail retorted, not entirely sure that such a feat would ever be possible.
Isabella re-entered the manor via the service entrance just before sunset. She planned to stay in her room and complete the last of the sewing before her dinner was brought up.
Isabella was surprised to see small huddles of servants talking amongst themselves in the dining hall. She found Betsy out of the crowd and made her way over.
“Oh, Miss Watts, ye'll never believe what just happened,” Betsy said, just above a whisper. “It's somethin’ dreadful.”
“What happened?” Isabella asked as she entered the small circle of maids talking.
She knew most of them, or at least had said greetings in passing.
“His Grace was on 'is way dun the stairs when he had a spell and took a terrible tumble.”
“Is he alright?” Isabella asked with genuine concern.
“His Grace’s groomsman was not too far away,” another maid finished the story, “and came running to help. He is propped up in the large drawing room close to the fire. The doctor was sent for.”
“Well, he has been very ill,” another maid added, this one named Sally, Isabella thought. “I can’t imagine this will help His Grace improve.”
“You saw 'im just last night, did ye not Miss Watts?” Betsy asked.
All eyes fell on her.
“Yes, I took Jacqueline to the drawing room. He was struggling with a cough these last few weeks, as you said, Sally, but he was really looking very healthy last night. I do hope that this new event won't set him back.”
“I am not exactly sure why so many of you are standing around gossiping,” a loud voice boomed into the dining room.
Immediately, the small groups of servants turned and went quickly back to work. Isabella didn’t have to turn to know the voice came from Mrs. Peterson. Sadly, Isabella made the mistake of turning and looking at her anyway. Mrs. Peterson narrowed her eyes at Isabella, seeing that she was part of the gossipers.
“I am very disappointed to see you here, Miss Watts. Someone with your upbringing should have had the common sense not to take part in idle chatter.”
“It wasn’t idle chatter. I just came indoors when the sun got too dim to see by. I asked Betsy what the matter was, and she politely informed me. We were just discussing how concerned we are for the duke,” Isabella retorted with her chin held high.
“Call it what you like,” Mrs. Peterson spoke with an exasperated tone. “I will ask you to retire to your room now for your supper. Perhaps a little cream on your cheeks too,” she added just to embarrass Isabella in front of the other servants. “You seem to have caught quite a bit of sun today.”
Without another word, she turned on her heels and left the room. Isabella instinctively moved her hands to her cheeks. They did feel a little warm but not at all burned like the housekeeper had made it seem.
“Dinna fash,” Betsy said, waving the rotten woman off, “ye look fine. Just a lil rose, is all. I dare say it’s good to get a lil sun when ye can in these parts.”
“I only took my bonnet off for a short while,” Isabella said, then suddenly realized she had left it outside on the stone bench. “Oh, I think I forgot it.”
“Well, go and get it then,” Betsy said as Isabella hesitated to go back through the service entrance. “I’m the one bringing your supper tray tonight; I’ll make sure to wait till ye come back in.”
“Thank you, Betsy,” Isabella said, taking her hand in gratitude before turning to leave the common place.
Isabella hadn’t gone outside past dusk since the first night she arrived at Wintercrest Manor. She knew the way to the little garden and bench well, but things did seem a bit more ominous now with the thick darkness covering the grounds.
Isabella walked quickly, only hearing the sound of her own muslin skirt swishing against her legs. She was practically at a run, so off-put by the darkness.
Isabella turned the sharp corner leading into the small garden alcove, and stopped dead in her tracks. Standing at her bench was the figure of a very large man. She could see nothing of him other than the outline of his body. In his hand was her bonnet.
She hesitated a moment. She had only two bonnets, the one in the stranger's hand, and a nicer one to wear on Sunday. Was she willing to make her presence known to this stranger in a darkened corner of the estate for a simple head covering?
Turning and leaving as silently as possible seemed like a better choice. She hoped it was nothing more than a gardener and she would be able to come back in the morning to retrieve the article, but not wanting to take any chances that it was otherwise.
Before she could take more than two backward steps in retreat, the figure turned and faced her.