They made their way down the stairs and along the marble hall through to the back end of the central part of the house. Isabella did her best not to look so shocked by the extravagance of everything around her. Some large oak doors were closed, others open, showing a breakfast room, a vast library, and a morning sitting room. Isabella couldn’t help but wonder what was behind the other doors. If she could only explore the winding corridors.
They stopped at a closed door, just to the right of the library. Mrs. Peterson knocked and when bid to enter, she opened both doors. It was a massive office with its own grand fireplace burning warmly along the longest wall. Next to the hearth was a door that Isabella was sure it was connected to the library. Why His Grace would need access to that library when he had three walls covered in books here in this room, Isabella didn’t know.
The room itself was covered in a dark navy wallpaper with gold trimming. All along the walls, where books weren’t found, were various paintings of the previous owners of this office.
Isabella wondered why every room she had seen, thus far, in the main house was draped in such a dark manner. Surely, with the gloomy weather outside bright, vibrant colors would help to warm the large estate.
She had to remind herself, again, that she was no longer a lady and that she didn’t need to waste her time wondering about things she had no business thinking of. Her sole purpose now was education, and that was what needed to occupy her thoughts.
She stood in front of the desk and waited for the elderly man, bent in work, to notice them. When he set his writing down and looked to her, she followed Mrs. Peterson’s lead and gave a polite curtsy.
“Your Grace, I present to you the new governess, Miss Isabella Watts.”
Isabella did her best to ignore the gentleman who was directly behind the duke, and had apparently been discussing whatever work His Grace was doing before the women entered. One quick flash of a look at the Marquess of Bellfourd showed a broad, bright smile as he presently looked back at her.
It was infuriating to Isabella. This man had made a fool of her only the night before in front of the whole household of servants, and here he stood smugly about it. He probably had even shared his story with his father. The ridiculous governess who treated her employer's son like a footman.
The Duke removed the pair of wired spectacles he had been wearing and inspected Isabella up and down.
“I was informed you had an extensive education? That you would be quite capable of teaching a pupil, though you have no references or experience?”
Isabella caught a questioning look from Lord Bellfourd. He must not have been informed that she was without experience. The Duke looked to be getting on in years and health, and Lord Bellfourd was, of course, here to help him in preparation for his own turn as manager of the estate. Would she be out of a job upon this occurrence?
“No experience? Are you sure this is the best we can do for little Jackie?” Lord Bellfourd asked his father, right in front of her.
“I studied at Mrs. Mason’s School for Exceptional Young Ladies. I enjoyed my studies and kept them in practice over the years,” Isabella stated, jutting her chin out just a little.
“The child is lucky to have a governess at all. I did as you and Abigail requested and hired a lady from London. I do not doubt that her qualifications will be suitable for the child’s situation. Also, you are well aware that I do not like it when you call her by that name.”
Isabella didn’t like standing there and being spoken of in front of her for the second time in two days. It also didn’t escape her attention that Lord Bellfourd had been the one concerned for Jacqueline and the duke himself had refused even to speak her name.
She wondered if this was what Mrs. Murray had alluded to. Certainly, it was the duke who had allowed the child to come to his home. Was he unhappy with her presence now that she was here? Isabella couldn’t imagine how such a sweet young thing could upset him, though.
Perhaps the memory of the lost son, though desired at first, had turned into a constant painful reminder. Isabella understood well the feeling of loss, and the complicated emotions it brought out.
Turning back to Isabella, “I am sure you will be well suited, Miss Watts. I do, however, have a few conditions before you proceed in regards to how I want her educated.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I will be happy to meet any requirements you see fit.”
“Good. Foremost, I want her to start learning English right away. I am aware that you are fluent in French?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Please, use your talents to transition her to the language of her new home. I don’t want any more encouragement of her native tongue now that you are here to teach her otherwise properly.”
Isabella could see that last comment was meant for the Marquess and not herself.
“Of course, father,” Lord Bellfourd said with slight irritation.
“Perhaps,” Isabella chimed in, seeing that this was a subject at odds between her current employer and potential future one, “it might be beneficial for her to keep the native language. Of course, I will do as you wish, Your Grace, and begin immediately to develop her English, but we could also have a short time each day for her to have a French lesson. Having a second language is an important tool for any young lady, and it could bring her comfort to be able to write to her mother in such a way.”
Isabella heard Mrs. Peterson clear her throat behind her, obviously not happy that Isabella had suggested something that had just been contradicted by the duke.
“I rather think that would be a fine compromise, Father,” Lord Bellfourd chimed in.
“Well,” the duke faltered a bit, “I suppose it will be fine if she only speaks it during specific lessons for the language.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“Now, other requirements for the child. She is to spend a portion of her day outside for lessons and exercise, and twice a week you will present her to me so that I may assess her progress.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Isabella repeated.
She could see the duke’s spectacles were being put back on and guessed that meant that was the end of the discussion.
“I already have a vast library of resources for the child in the schoolroom, but should you need any others you are welcome to the library just over that way,” he waved to the door. “You, yourself, may borrow any book you wish from the collection, as long as you sign the servant roster found within.”
“How very kind of you, Your Grace.”
“I suspect you have reading material sufficient for your needs at the moment, judging by the weight of your case,” Lord Bellfourd chimed in with a knowing smile.
Isabella’s eyes hit the floor as she flushed red. She heard an indignant puff from behind her.
“What are you talking about, Christian?” The Duke said, lowering his spectacles to look up at his son.
“Nothing, Father,” he said with a jolly smile.
Isabella was irritatingly embarrassed but also relieved that Lord Bellfourd had chosen not to share the events of the night before with the duke.
“Mrs. Peterson, I am sure you are quite busy with household business. I will be happy to escort Miss Watts back to the school room as I have not yet seen my niece today.”
Mrs. Peterson hesitated. Of course, she would not argue with the request to leave, but she also questioned allowing such a thing to happen. With no apparent objection from the duke, who was back at his work, she made one last curtsy and left.
Lord Bellfourd gave his father a hand on the shoulder and the duke waved him off without looking up from his work. Coming across the room, Lord Bellfourd motioned for Isabella to go on ahead of him. She waited till they were out of the office and well past the doorway before speaking.
“I don’t think I ever got a chance to apologize for my mistake last night,” she finally said, not looking at him.
“There is nothing to apologize for. I am just glad I was there to help. I can’t imagine dragging such a heavy load all the way from the main road.”
Isabella looked up at him to see if he was teasing her again. She took a moment to study him. He was much taller than most men she knew and broad of shoulder.
He had thick, strawberry blonde hair that was tied back with a simple ribbon. His eyes, which looked down at her with a joking glint, were of the most transparent blue. They reminded her much of the little girl she had just spent the morning with, though everything else about his features was much different.
In a way, he resembled a much younger version of the duke with a square jaw and long pointed nose. She decided that he couldn't be more than twenty-six years old. She had noticed that, not only did the Duke share the strawberry red hair, though the duke's was mostly grey, but many of the portraits on the wall in the office did too.
“I’m glad to see your charm made the trip safely,” he added with a wicked grin and motioned with his eyes to the locket around her neck.
Isabella quickly clasped her hand over it, hiding it from him. She heard the rumble of a chuckle from inside his chest and she could bear the embarrassment no longer.
“I changed my mind; I don’t apologize for the mistake. In fact, one might say the situation was all of your making, since you gave me a false name and all.”
Lord Bellfourd stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the west wing and gave a hearty laugh at her moment of rage. It was a fantastic, deep sound, something she could tell his Lordship used often.
“My dear Miss Watts,” he finally said, regaining his composure, “I am so sorry I have upset you. Forgive me, I am told by my sister I do tend to be a teaser. I meant nothing by it. Though, I must inform you that I didn't lie to you. My name is Captain Christian Grant, formerly of the Royal Navy. It has just been a little over a year that I have been anything besides this.”
Isabella thought this over in her head. It made sense, of course. He was the second son of a duke, so an employment in the Royal Navy was undoubtedly fitting. Upon his brother's untimely death, he was most likely called back home to take his place.
“Oh, well…” Isabella stammered, feeling her brazen attitude may have gotten her in trouble again.
“Don’t concern yourself, Miss Watts. How could you have known?” he said reassuringly. “Perhaps, though, you could gratify my curiosity and tell me what exactly you had in that trunk of yours and why that simple locket is so important to you.”
“Well, you were right on the first part. I brought with me some of my favorite books, not realizing I would be allowed to borrow others. And the locket…” she said smoothing the silver she still held in her hand as they made their way upstairs, “It was my mother’s. My father gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday with the lock of hair she gave him the first time he went out to sea.”
“I can see now why that might be so cherished.”
“Yes. She passed in childbirth, so it gives me a sort of closeness to her.”
“It seems your life has been full of hardships,” he said back.
“Not more than others,” Isabella said as she scrunched her nose in thought. “I imagine many have much more heartache than myself. Life seems to be equally unfair to all in one way or another.”
“Well said,” he agreed.
They had made their way up the stairs, and without ceremony, Lord Bellfourd entered the school room.
“Uncle Christian!” Jacqueline squealed with delight as she hopped up and wrapped her arms around him.
She began spilling out the morning's events in quick French to her beloved uncle. It was clear to Isabella that he was beloved by this little child. Though his teasing had put her off a bit, she couldn’t help but enjoy his company as she watched him interact with his little niece, more like a child than the future Duke of Wintercrest.