Isabella readied herself for the evening as best she could. She chose, instead of changing into one of her evening gowns, to wear a simple brown skirt with a white button top and matching brown spencer jacket.
She could only assume, had she gone down in her usual evening attire, as all the other women would, she would be chastened by Lady Lydia for going above her station.
Honestly, she knew Lydia would go out of her way to make her life miserable no matter what course she took.
Isabella was deeply concerned over Lydia’s presence. Of course, Lady Abigail had been right to jest that the visitation was for matchmaking purposes. Had Lady Wintercrest picked anyone in the world besides Lady Lydia, Isabella would have grinned and borne it.
Even with her growing attachment to Lord Bellfourd, she would have been willing to stifle her feelings, if she knew that he would be happy with a proper lady. Lady Lydia, on the other hand, was nothing but a pompous brat who spent her childhood vexing Isabella, and many others, every chance she could.
Isabella took a calming breath, smoothing her skirt one final time, before leaving her room to pick up her ward. She was surprised to find Mrs. Peterson present in the room.
“Mrs. Peterson? Is there something I can do for you? I was just about to take Miss Jacqueline down to the family.”
“I am well aware of your purpose here tonight,” Mrs. Peterson said tartly. She had been especially short with Isabella since trying to have her removed. “I am here to escort you both to the drawing room.”
“We are perfectly capable of finding it on our own,” Isabella retorted, motioning for Jackie to come to her side. “I thank you for your kind offer, but we are quite able on our own.”
Jackie gave a quick hug to her nurse. Mrs. Murray was perched in her regular chair next to the nursery’s small stove fire, knitting.
“I am well aware of your familiarities with the drawing room,” Mrs. Peterson said with an obvious undertone of disapproval. “It is proper, however, for me to see you in and make sure Her Grace is ready to receive you with a footman’s introduction before you go barging in.”
Isabella did her best not to stick out her tongue at this horrible woman. Sadly, politeness got the best of her, and she merely nodded her head in acceptance.
They walked down the stairwell in silence, Jackie’s little hand inside Isabella’s.
“Why is this horrible lady coming with us?” Jacqueline asked just above a whisper, in French.
“It is not polite to call someone horrible,” Isabella said out of the corner of her small mouth.
“She cannot understand me,” Jackie retorted in pure innocence. Her big blue eyes were looking up at Isabella, unable to comprehend why a change was coming from their usual routine.
“It matters not if the person in question can understand, it is still not polite,” Isabella replied with a gentle smile to her pupil.
“Is Grandpère better, then?” Jackie continued.
Isabella could see that, below the gold ringlets, Jackie’s mind was turning to create an answer to her own question.
“I am sorry to say that he is still not recovered. If you remember, Her Grace had guests arrive today. I suspect we must be on our best behavior due to this fact, even the housekeeper.”
“Miss Watts,” Mrs. Peterson said in an irritated tone as they came to stand before the drawing room doors. “I would remind you that you are not to encourage the child to speak French.”
“Of course, Mrs. Peterson,” Isabella said, doing her best not to grit her teeth.
“Please wait here while I make sure they are available for your intrusion. Quietly, please!” she added before walking into the room, herself.
Intrusion? Isabella was doing her best to control her temper and the words that seemed to fly out of her mouth at such instances.
“Villain,” Jackie said under her breath when Mrs. Peterson had gone.
“Oui,” Isabella agreed.
Both girls couldn’t help but giggle. It was at that moment, when both the tender Jackie and her governess were thus engaged with hands over mouths to stop their girlish laughter, that Lord Bellfourd came up behind them.
“And what mischief might you two be up to tonight?” he asked as he strolled up, hands in the pockets of his evening jacket.
Isabella turned, flushing red with embarrassment. Her flushed cheeks soon calmed when she came to meet the look of playful delight in the Marquess’s blue eyes.
“I told Miss Watts that…”
Isabella shushed the girl before she could continue. She got down to Jackie's level, “Some things must be left between just us girls,” she explained.
Lord Bellfourd raised a rusty brow in question to Isabella’s action. “Are you encouraging my niece to keep secrets from me,” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Absolutely,” Isabella retorted with her own playful gleam in her green eyes.
“All girls must have some secrets. It is often how we make our lasting friendships.”
“Well, I suppose I cannot deny you that,” he said in agreement.
He took a step closer, bowing his head, as he so often did when he came into proximity to someone so much shorter than himself.
“I must ask you to share one small secret with me, however,” he said in a confident tone. “Why are you standing outside the drawing room?”
“One could ask the same of you?” Isabella said, jutting out her small chin just slightly.
“Well, I had no intentions to skulk in the hallway. I am just on my way from my father's side and off to hear the wonderful playing of my little Jackie.” He swiped at Jackie’s cheek with a playful pinch.
“How is His Grace doing?” Isabella asked with genuine concern in her voice. She had not seen him for the last few weeks, so ill was his constitution.
“I’m afraid no better and he seems only to get worse. The doctor stepped by yesterday and fears that the damage done to his lungs, either from sickness or the fall, is irreversible.”
“I pray for him every night,” Isabella said, instinctually raising her hand up and resting it on his arm in comfort.
“I know that Jackie does, as well, with Mrs. Murray. We all pray that he will return to health.”
Lord Bellfourd removed his hand from his pocket and took Isabella’s with a thankful squeeze.
“I appreciate that very much, Isabella.”
Isabella hesitated to remove her hand from his touch. Though his hands were rougher than that of a typical gentleman, no doubt due to his life at sea, it was warm and comforting.
Lord Bellfourd smiled softly, just a twitch at the side of his mouth really, before opening it to speak. However, before the words escaped, the drawing room doors were flung open.
Much to the surprise of all the eyes in the drawing room, there stood Isabella and Lord Bellfourd hand in hand, with the cherubim child smiling up at both of them.
Instead of letting go quickly like Isabella wanted to do, Lord Bellfourd instead moved Isabella’s hand into the crook of his other arm. He leaned down and offered his, now free, hand to the service of escorting Jackie as well.
Jackie giggled, hopped to her uncle's side, and stood tall as she walked in like a real lady.
“I was just coming from my father’s side when I happened upon these two fine ladies,” Lord Bellfourd said smoothly.
He certainly had the charm to play off any potentially embarrassing situation, Isabella thought.
“Come here, Jacqueline,” Lady Wintercrest called, noticing the entrance of her granddaughter.
She had been in deep conversation with Lady Cunningham, and they two were perhaps the only ones who hadn’t seen the shocking proximity of the Marquess and governess.
“Oui, Madame,” Jackie said releasing her hold on her uncle and skipping over to her grandmother’s side.
Isabella couldn’t help but smile as she watched Jackie’s beautiful gold curls bounce against the fire glow as she happily obliged.
“I was just telling Lady Cunningham that you sing so beautifully. Would you sing that nursery song your mother use to sing to you?”
“Yes Grandmère,” Jackie said dutifully.
“Oh, how splendid,” Lady Cunningham said, clapping her gloved hands softly. “I can already tell by your voice that you must be an outstanding singer.”
“Now, just stand there, so we may all hear you,” Her Grace said, pointing to the middle of the room. Her face was glowing with pride.
“Lord Bellfourd, do come sit down,” Lady Lydia cooed. “I would hate for you to be so far and not hear this little treat.”
Lord Bellfourd started to move closer in the room, Isabella on his arm, when she slipped her hand out. He raised a questioning look back at her.
“I should like to take my seat back here, if you please, Lord Bellfourd,” Isabella said politely.
“Come now,” Lady Lydia called. “You don’t want to miss it.”
Lord Bellfourd gave a soft nod of his head to Isabella in farewell before coming to stand next to his seated mother.
Isabella enjoyed the sound of Jackie's soft rendition of Au Clair de la Lune. She did have a beautiful singing voice. So, in the darkened far corner of the drawing room, Isabella sat with her eyes closed as she absorbed the lovely words.
Isabella opened them, surprised to find the Marquess watching her. He didn’t look away when their eyes met. He towered high over his mother, with one hand resting on the high back of the chair, watching Isabella most intently.
Isabella blushed and looked away, thankful for the shadow of her seated position. Lord Bellfourd, too, let go of her gaze and turned to look on Jackie just as she finished.
All in the room clapped most heartily. Lady Abigail invited Jackie to sit at her side once the song was done and the room went back to quiet conversations.
“Lord Bellfourd,” Lady Lydia cooed yet again. “Please do tell me how His Grace is doing? My mother and I have both been so worried about his health.”
“I am afraid very poorly, Lady Lydia.”
Lady Wintercrest reached up and took her son’s hand instinctually. They had already lost James, the thought of losing the duke in such quick succession seemed more than any one family could bear.
“How unfortunate,” Lady Lydia said with what seemed like very little honesty in Isabella’s opinion.
“Perhaps a carriage ride around the estate might help him. I have heard quite often that fresh air can do wonders for healing,” she continued.
“Sadly, I don’t think my father can leave his current room, much less take a trip outside.”
“What a shame. I was hoping to take a ride and see the splendid grounds. Mother spoke of them so much on our trip up here, from the last time she visited.”
Isabella did her best not to openly wrinkle her nose at what she was hearing. Lady Lydia was unmistakably using the poor health of the duke to secure an intimate ride with Lord Bellfourd.
Lord Bellfourd hesitated a moment. Indeed, at that moment, there was the proper thing to be said. In fact, it was expected by Lady Lydia.
“I have a wonderful idea,” Lady Wintercrest chimed in before anything could be decided in Lord Bellfourd’s mind. “Christian, why don’t you show Lady Lydia around tomorrow afternoon?”
“Of course, Mother,” Lord Bellfourd said to appease that wistful hope hanging in his mother’s soft eyes.
The night continued much the same. Isabella sat in her corner, Jackie played games with her aunt, and the duchess and her friend remained deep in conversation. This left the Marquess to make conversation with Lady Lydia.
He did so politely, and with all the grace of a future duke. Isabella couldn’t help but see the fallen crest of his brow or notice the sheen, so often present in his blue eyes, missing.
After Jackie gave her third yawn, Isabella was happy to insist that it was time to take her student up to bed. Jackie happily agreed, utterly exhausted from the long day.
As Isabella laid in her own bed that night, she reflected on many things. The significant change in the household with the arrival of guests was, of course, at the forefront of her mind. Also apparent was the tingling feeling she still felt at her fingertips from Lord Bellfourd’s grasp.
Isabella wondered if she had only imagined him disinterested with Lady Lydia because she so detested the lady. Had she made up the reluctant manners of his speech and the bored set of his shoulders?
She also couldn’t help but wonder if more repercussions would occur with Mrs. Peterson after that evening's events with Lord Bellfourd. She told herself, yet again, not to worry and that her job’s security was in the hands of the Μarquess, and not the housekeeper.
It was with these uneasy thoughts that she finally drifted off to sleep.