“Isabella, are you alright?” Lady Abigail’s voice called out from the open carriage.
Before Isabella even got her bearings, Lord Bellfourd jumped out of the coach and rushed to Isabella’s side before the driver had stopped entirely.
“Do forgive me, my lord, I did not see her as we came around the bend,” the driver said, most apologetically.
“Please don’t worry yourself, Samuel,” Isabella said, righting her basket and making sure all was safe. “I was lost in my own thoughts. I should have been listening and gone to the side of the road on your approach.”
“None the less,” Samuel said, stepping down from the carriage, “I beg your forgiveness, Miss Watts.”
“And I heartily accept it,” Isabella said.
She meant to stand on her own, but Lord Bellfourd was at her side and reached down to lift her up himself. He inspected her, once she was on her feet.
“Are you sure you are quite alright, Isabella?” he asked, his soft blue eyes searching her own.
“Yes, quite fine. No damage is done, My Lord,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt and taking a step back. She was keenly aware of the two pairs of eyes watching from the carriage.
Lady Abigail, she had no problem with; Lady Lydia sitting next to her, however, was a different matter.
“Bring her into the carriage,” Lady Abigail called. “She is much too shaken up to continue to walk.”
“Oh no,” Isabella protested. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your outing.”
“You have scarcely ever been an interruption not wanted, and I can safely say that that is still the case today.”
“But my hem is all dirty from walking; I will muddle the carriage.”
Lord Bellfourd bent his head low just slightly, as was needed for his towering height, to see the hem of Isabella’s muslin walking dress. It did have a small dusting of dirt and mud from the occasion of her walking on the road.
“Muddy hems we can manage just fine. Provided there is no jewelry dangling from it?” He reached out his arm to Isabella and bent to pick up her basket for her.
“You are a terrible scoundrel for bringing up such a memory,” Isabella replied, taking his arm and walking with him to the carriage.
In her fall, her bonnet had slipped from her head, having not pinned it in place, and her lush black hair was a stark contrast to the white sheen of her skin.
Since Lady Abigail and Lady Lydia were seated next to each other, Lord Bellfourd helped Isabella to the opposite side of the carriage, before handing up her basket to rest next to Samuel in the driver’s seat. He sat next to her in the carriage and Isabella struggled to keep her breath from their proximity.
The Barouche moved onward with a call from the driver. With a slight lurch, they were off again at a comfortable trotting pace.
“You must have had a very successful trip into town, Isabella. How you didn’t tip over from the weight of your basket alone is a small miracle,” Lord Bellfourd teased.
“I suspect the staff has just recently been given their monthly earnings,” Lady Lydia interjected. Her cool brown eyes were holding Isabella in an unfriendly manner. “I know as soon as my staff receives their earnings they go straight into town and spend it all away at once.”
Isabella wanted to tell Lady Lydia that she had made a horrid assumption. In fact, she had found, in her new position, that much of the staff rarely spent so much as a pence of their earnings. Much of it went back to their families, or was saved up for the chance at a happier life.
“It isn’t all mine,” Isabella said instead, toward Lord Bellfourd. “I was also picking up some items for Betsy. She is making a Samhain dress for her cousin to celebrate her sixteenth birthday.”
“Samhain?” Lady Lydia repeated in shock. “Is that some pagan ritual? I cannot imagine being involved in the slightest way in such a thing.”
Lady Lydia opened her silk fan and waved herself, though it was not the least bit warm with the open carriage affording a soft breeze. Isabella watched Lady Lydia puff out her cheeks indignantly.
“Actually, it is quite fun,” Lady Abigail said, stretching to her full height in her seat.
“Abigail? You naughty little thing,” Lord Bellfourd said, reaching forward to tug playfully on Lady Abigail’s dark red curl that came to the side of her bonnet. “Have you been to the festival?”
“Yes, I have,” she replied, jutting her small chin out. She had a dusting of freckles on her nose, no doubt from all the times she took her bonnet off outside.
Isabella knew many women who would use concoctions to painstakingly remove such marks, but on Lady Abigail’s face, it was quite fitting to her wild spirit.
If Isabella was willing to admit it to herself, she had been one of those ladies who always shielded herself with bonnets and parasols, as well as used lemon water at any sign of a blemish.
It did seem rather silly to her now. Even at her youthful age of eighteen, Lady Abigail looked to be a beautiful young lady, and what some would call blemishes were part of that beauty.
“Well you must tell us all about it, then.” Lord Bellfourd encouraged his sister with a hearty smile on his square jaw.
“You see,” Lady Abigail started excitedly to tell her story. “I convinced Nursie to tell me all about the festival. Of course, it wasn’t that hard, you know how she loves to spin stories.”
Lady Abigail turned to Lady Lydia. “Nursie was my nanny, Mrs. Murray. She is also currently Jackie’s caretaker.”
Lady Lydia didn’t seem to like to have special explanation given to her. It made her look like an interloper on a close friendship of three.
“After she told me,” Lady Abigail continued, “I just had to go and see it for myself. In all honesty, I thought she might have fibbed a bit to scare me. She spoke of little people and ghosts that walk the earth for one night a year. She said that small children were made to dress as such, for fear the little people might snatch them up otherwise.”
“She told me little folk could tell who the naughty children were from the good ones and liked to take them home and turn them into little folk themselves. To be on the safe side, all parents make their kids wear woodland clothes and dirty up their faces. That way, if they were naughty, the little people would think they were already one of them.”
“I imagine all children loved the opportunity to run around dirty for a day,” Lord Bellfourd chimed in.
“To be sure. But, you see, I thought she was fibbing just to keep me on my best behavior. You see,” Lady Abigail directed to Isabella, “this was just after the jam on the piano keys incident.”
Isabella covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She couldn’t help but picture Mrs. Murray, irritated by the sticky clean up, weaving a scary, animated tale to put her ward into place.
“So, how did you make your escape?” Lord Bellfourd asked, enthralled by the tale.
“Well, I was twelve at the time and you had just left for the Navy,” Lady Abigail continued. “I made my escape in my white nightgown, dressing gown, and slippers. I removed the rags from my hair but did not know how to put it up myself, so it lay limply all around me. My face I scrubbed with the ash from the fireplace, just for good measure. I scarcely know how I was able to sneak out of the house unnoticed, except for the fact that most of the staff must have already left for the festivities themselves.”
“Oh, Lady Abigail,” Lady Lydia said in astonishment. "I do hope you weren’t seen. I can’t imagine what being found in a dressing gown in the middle of a pagan ritual would do to a lady’s reputation.”
“Actually, I was found out,” Lady Abigail said with an edge of spit.
Both ladies gasped, though for very different reasons.
“I ran all the way through the dark to just outside of town. I could see the glow of the bonfire at the back edge of a tenant field. As I got closer, I found myself walking with many others, making their way to the same place. It didn’t seem to me that anyone recognized me for who I was, or so I thought in my childish mind.”
“How could they not,” Lord Bellfourd stated, “with your fine dressing gown, and deep red hair?”
“Of course, now I can see that is true. But at the time, in my youthful confidence, I thought myself a very good trickster with my smudged face.”
“Oh, it was so magnificent,” Lady Abigail continued, caught up in her own memory. “There were long tables decorated with cornucopias and delicious treats. There was a great big fire where children danced and played, and even a small group of musicians.”
“Standing in a straight line, just to the side of the fire, was a row of young maidens all dressed in white with crowns of harvest flowers. Upon their arrival, the merriment stopped, the kids stood back, and the women themselves encircled the fire. The musicians played a soft tune that grew in power. The ladies all danced, an ancient movement of flowing white fabric, along with the song. Oh, it was simply magical,” Lady Abigail said with a romantic sigh.
Lady Lydia just sat there, too shocked by the telling to speak. From time to time, she turned her brown eyes to Lord Bellfourd, certain he too must be disgusted by this tale.
“When the dance was done, I found Nursie at my side, hands folded in front of her. I suspected, for a long time after that, that she might be a fairy herself for how quietly she always seemed to appear.”
“All she said was, ‘come along home now, lass,’ and we both walked the road back home. She washed my face with cold water and tucked me back into my bed. We never spoke of that night after that,” Lady Abigail ended with a sheen of happy childhood memory to her soft blue eyes.
“What an adventurous childhood you must have had,” Lady Lydia said, doing her best to find a way to compliment a tale she deeply disproved of.
The small party was just beginning to pull onto the long drive that lead up to Wintercrest Manor.
“Do you have fabric in that larger basket to make your own Samhain dress?” Lord Bellfourd said teasingly as he turned to inspect the basket sitting by Samuel again.
“Yes, I dare say that you would be quite in your place at such an event,” Lady Lydia said coolly.
“No,” Isabella said, doing her best to ignore Lady Lydia’s remarks. “I am hoping, however, to make one for Betsy. She has been so kind to me these past months. Though I am not sure I am up to the task.”
“I am certain you will be,” Lady Abigail praised. “The little dress you made for Jackie’s doll was pretty enough to be worn by the queen herself.”
“Well, if that is the case, I shall practice my manners for when Her Royal Highness Betsy is given her new gown,” Lord Bellfourd teased again, letting his happy conscience shine down on Isabella.
They pulled up to the house and Lord Bellfourd exited and turned to help each lady down.
“I thank you for the ride,” Isabella said, bidding the party goodbye.
Lord Bellfourd reached up and grabbed the basket to hand back to its owner.
“I dare say- are there also some treacle tarts I see poking out? You must have a sweet tooth then?” Lord Bellfourd added, handing back the basket.
“They, and some lemon drops, are treats for Mrs. Murray and Jackie.”
“I have always been under the impression that too many sweets for children breed bad behavior,” Lady Lydia said, intruding on the conversation.
“Well, if that is the case,” Lord Bellfourd said, turning back to Lady Lydia, who promptly placed her hand in the uninviting arm of the Marquess, “then Jackie is the most rotten child of all, since I often sneak her bonbons and peppermint sticks.”
He tipped his beaver fur hat, that matched the dark brown of his morning coat perfectly, before bidding Isabella goodbye.
“Please do give her an extra lemon drop for me,” he added with a wink in farewell.
Lady Abigail came to stand by Isabella. “If you don’t mind terribly, perhaps I could join you and possibly help as you begin to make your new gown?”
It was clear that she had all she could stand of Lady Lydia for the day.
“Thank you; I would be grateful for the company.”
The two ladies set off together for the side service entrance arm in arm, while Lord Bellfourd lead Lady Lydia to tea in the drawing room through the main door.
“Is it wise to let your sister spend so much time in the company of Miss Watts?” Lady Lydia asked of Lord Bellfourd as they entered the manor.
“She is not just the governess; she has also been a great friend to Abigail these past few months when she was unable to go to town for the season.”
“Yes, but she is a servant. How can you expect your sister to find a proper match if she is lowering herself to such standard?”
“She may be an employee of this manor,” Lord Bellfourd said with stern finality, “but she is also a good friend to all of the household, and I would hope you remember that in future.”
Though Lady Lydia did not, in any way, like the answer that Lord Bellfourd returned to her, she did enjoy the idea of a future at Wintercrest Manor.