Lord Bellfourd grabbed the candelabra that was situated on the piano and led Isabella out of the drawing room. They walked through the foyer and up the massive stairs in silence. After getting halfway down the walkway, Lord Bellfourd started to look around, confused.
“Are we coming to your lodging shortly or should we stop and camp for the night,” he said in a joking tone.
“If you would just leave me there at the bottom of the stairs, I am certain I can make the remaining journey on my own.”
“Stairs?” he asked in surprise. “Why on earth are you put so far away from the rest of the household?”
“I don't mind it and enjoy the walk,” Isabella said repetitively. "I only feel bad for poor Betsy who must travel so far each day to deposit my breakfast and supper. I told Mrs. Peterson, I would be happy to eat in the servant hall to save the trouble, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”
“That does seem quite tedious and unnecessary to have a maid make the trek several times a day. I see Mrs. Peterson’s point, however. So, instead, from now on, you must take your morning and evening meals with us.”
“I couldn’t. Your father wouldn’t have it. It would be too inappropriate.”
“If you haven’t learned yet, I don't care much for silly societal rules, especially ones that force a lady to dine alone every day. As for my father, he is not in a state to have an opinion, and I will happily take charge of this particular obligation for him.”
“Well, if you think it won't cause harm,” Isabella faltered in her resolve, “I am most grateful for your kindness, Lord Bellfourd.” She did rather hope to save Betsy from the nasty trip several times a day.
“Good, and maybe, since you now are in my confidence, you might consider just calling me Christian and permit me to call you Isabella, as I notice my sister does?”
“Absolutely not!” Isabella said, stopping at the bottom of the attic stairs. “I will happily let you call me whatever you wish, but I simply refuse to do the same. Whether you like it or not, you have a title now and the responsibility that goes along with it,” Isabella said in an instructive tone.
“It is ridiculous. We are all human beings, walking the same path that leads to the same end.”
“Be that as it may, it is who you are,” Isabella insisted.
Lord Bellfourd seemed to weigh this in his mind. It was something that he would continue to struggle with, Isabella thought, until he accepted his new lot in life.
“I shall take your words under advisement, but still encourage otherwise, if only in privacy.”
“When would that ever be?” Isabella asked with a laugh. The thought of the Marquess of Bellfourd in a private setting with the governess was a preposterous one.
Lord Bellfourd made a show of holding up his candelabra in the dark to look for others. He smiled back down at her, with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. No words needed to be said; she had caught his meaning.
He bowed in gentlemanly fashion to Isabella. “Goodnight, Isabella,” he said, still holding that twinkle, with the golden rays of light reflecting from his tightly pulled back hair.
“Goodnight, Lord Bellfourd,” Isabella gave him a similar curtsy but made a point to say his name slowly.
He popped a candle out of its place in the candelabra and handed it over to Isabella.
“For the walk up,” he said, before turning and making his way back down the long walkway and to the opposite side of the manor.
The next morning, as Isabella awoke and dressed, she wondered if she should go down to the breakfast room. Her answer came when Betsy arrived with the basin of hot water.
“Lord Bellfourd gave this to his groomsman this mornin’ for me to pass along,” she said, handing over a small note.
Miss Watts,
I hope you will find the courage to join Her Grace, Lady Abigail, and myself in the breakfast room this morning.
Regards,
Lord Bellfourd.
“What’s it say?” Betsy asked as she practiced yet another hairstyle on Isabella.
“It says I have been invited down to breakfast with the family. I don’t know that I should go,” she added quickly.
“O’ course, ye hav’ta go. I’ll make your hair verra fine today, as well, and ye’ll enter a proper looking lady.”
“But that’s just it- I’m not.”
“Yes, ye are,” Betsy encouraged.
“Not anymore. And I fear that doing such things will only make things harder in the long run. Jacqueline won't need a governess forever. When the time comes for me to leave, I don’t want to have unrealistic expectations of my life.”
“I see yer point. Best just write a note back. Tell His Lordship that, though he is incredibly kind to you and you are good friends with Lady Abigail, you just couldn’t bear to sit for a meal in his company and would much rather eat up here alone.”
Isabella scrunched her nose up at Betsy, hearing her words dripping with sarcasm.
Betsy rested her hand on Isabella’s shoulder and spoke with wisdom beyond her years, “There’s not any wrong in taking a good friendship that is offered. Life can turn and be verra hard at times. Take the good when it comes.”
Isabella took Betsy’s hand and squeezed it gently. With a glisten to her eyes, she thanked Betsy for her words of encouragement.
Isabella hesitated before the breakfast room doors. She lifted her hand to knock, then lowered it again.
“Is there something you need, Miss Watts?” Mrs. Peterson said, appearing from nowhere.
“No, I…” Isabella faltered.
“Miss Watts, I’m so glad you got my note,” a voice called from behind her.
Isabella turned to see Lord Bellfourd sauntering down the hall. He looked much more refreshed than the night before.
He opened the breakfast room door and motioned for Isabella to go on before him. She hesitated for a moment, torn between the friendly gesture in front and the venomous daggers from behind.
Finally, she bid Lord Bellfourd a good morning and made her way in. She heard him give a cheerful salutation to Mrs. Peterson before entering the room himself.
Lord Bellfourd had a very smug look on his face as he kissed his mother on the cheek before helping Isabella into her chair.
“Mother, I hope you don’t mind. I invited Miss Watts to dine with us.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Lady Wintercrest said with a polite smile in Isabella’s direction. “You look very pretty today,” she added for good measure.
“Thank you, Your Grace. May I ask how His Grace is doing this morning?”
“I saw him just before coming to breakfast,” Lady Wintercrest answered. “The doctor saw him early this morning before departing. He was in a grumpy mood over the early hour. Of course, the doctor has others to tend to and couldn’t stay long. I took his cantankerous disposition as a good sign he was feeling better,” she added with hope in her eyes.
“That is wonderful to hear,” Lady Abigail said as she, too, entered the room. She said her good mornings around the table and took her seat.
“Tell us, Christian,” Lady Wintercrest said, halfway through the meal, “how was your time in London?”
“It was fine,” Lord Bellfourd said, doing his best to hide his distaste for the season.
“Just before leaving,” he continued, “I went to a ball hosted by the Earl and Countess of Cunningham.”
“Oh yes, Lady Mary Cunningham! How is my dear friend?” Lady Wintercrest asked conversationally.
Isabella did her best not to show any recognition of the name.
“I only spoke with her for a brief moment. She was very sad that you were not able to make it to London. She suggested coming to visit you at the end of the season.”
“That would be so wonderful,” Lady Wintercrest said clapping her hands together.
“Well,” Lord Bellfourd added cautiously, “I believe it might have something to do with her daughter Lady Lydia Prescott visiting along with her.”
“That’s right. Mary's daughter is only three or four years younger than yourself. It would be a wonderful idea to have them both visit.”
“Wonderful for who?” Lady Abigail asked with a giggle. “I can’t believe, dear brother, you were in town for scarcely half a season, and already you find yourself someone’s beau.”
Isabella kept her eyes on her breakfast plate and nibbled at her toast. She didn’t know why but raging jealousy ran through her veins at the mere thought of Lord Bellfourd courting Lady Lydia. Most likely it was because she had such high regards for Lord Bellfourd.
“I am not anyone's beau. This is my point, exactly,” he said turning to his mother again, “I wouldn’t want to encourage a wrong opinion.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Lady Wintercrest waved him off with a new light of excitement in her eyes. “She is a friend, visiting with her daughter. It would be ridiculous to rumor otherwise.”
“What about Father’s condition. He won’t be fully healed in time. It might not be prudent to have guests.”
“You told me the doctor said six to eight weeks before he was whole again. She would not be here until well past that. Even still if His Grace is not well, he will understand my need for a visit with a dear old friend of mine.”
Lord Bellfourd looked unsure of his mother’s motives. More than likely, the duchess was planning to spend the remainder of the summer plotting with her friend to play matchmaker.
“I will write to Lady Cunningham this afternoon and inform her that she is most welcome to come stay with us.”