Isabella was pacing her room, occasionally stopping to recheck the clock. She was to pick up Jacqueline and take her down to the duke and the rest of the family precisely at eight o’clock to be inspected. As this was her first time ever doing this, she had no idea what to expect.
She, of course, knew that Mrs. Murray, who had to take charge of the child that afternoon as she always did, would take special care to make sure Jacqueline looked her very best.
What scared her even more was the prospect of meeting the duchess for the first time tonight. Of course, the duke had been the one to hire her, but if she didn’t find favor in the duchess’ eyes, then assuredly the employment would be terminated. What was Isabella to do then?
She certainly would never go back to Mr. Smith to beg for his mercy. She touched the locket around her neck. How had he reacted when he found it missing? She hoped he had left it alone. After all, it wasn’t really worth much, but at the same time, she knew it wasn’t about the money or her father's debt. All Mr. Smith wanted to do was make Isabella’s life miserable as a punishment for turning him down all those years ago.
The clock chimed the quarter hour, and Isabella stopped her pacing. She straightened her skirts one last time. She had wracked her brain over how to dress. Should she wear the one velvet green dinner gown she had left, or continue to wear her more plain and simple cotton dress she had worn during the day?
She had no idea what would be more proper in this situation. She had finally decided on the dinner gown. It was at least dark in color, such a deep forest green that, in the evening light of candles, it could take on a hew of black. It seemed most fitting for a governess.
Isabella made her way down the long walkway toward her pupil's nursery where she was to pick her up from Mrs. Murray. She entered the room with a soft knock to find Jacqueline sitting on the floor playing dolls with another young lady. Mrs. Murray was sitting in the corner rocker, knitting another pair of gloves. The lady stood upon Isabella’s entrance and she knew that this must be Lady Abigail.
She was a young girl of no more than ten and seven. She was wearing a beautiful, soft blue silk dinner dress with white pearls decorating the bodice. She shared her brother's same crystal blue eyes, but her hair was a rich red, almost startlingly so.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Abigail,” Isabella said with a curtsy, “I was asked to take Jacqueline to His Grace.”
“Why, you must be Miss Watts, then,” Lady Abigail said with a sweet smile. “For a second, I was worried you were that horrid Mrs. Peterson coming in. She shan’t have liked to see me sitting on the floor playing dollies. She is quite a strict one, isn’t she?” Lady Abigail asked like she was talking to a friend.
Isabella was uncertain how to respond. Naturally, she would not share her personal opinions of Mrs. Peterson to a lady of the house; it would have been most forward of Isabella.
“Mrs. Peterson does seem very devoted to her duties. She seems to have a good feel for such a large estate,” was all that Isabella could come up with.
“She hasn’t been here with us long, you know.” Lady Abigail continued, as if she was speaking to a close confidante. “Only the last year, just before we got our sweet Jackie here. I suppose father was hoping to find someone who would tighten the reins on us children a little more.”
Mrs. Murray cleared her throat from the corner. Abigail smiled at the action.
“Nurse Murray, on the other hand, has been here so long she took care of not just myself but my brother Christian, as well. I believe she thinks I am too much of a gossip. It is a bad habit of mine, I must admit. I apologized, Nursie," Lady Abigail said affectionately while turning.
“You dinna need to apologize, Lady Abigail. Perhaps you best be off though, so as not to keep yer father waiting, aye?”
“Nursie?” Jacqueline giggled under her breath at Lady Abigail’s nickname for her nurse.
“Well, you see, I was very little when Mrs. Murray came and it was just easier for me to say,” Lady Abigail told the child in French.
Jacqueline turned to Mrs. Murray and slowly asked in the best English she could muster, “I call you Nursie, uh… que puis-je vous appeler?”
What can I call you? Isabella’s heart swelled at the question, as she watched Mrs. Murray connect with the little girl.
With tears glistening in her eyes, Mrs. Murray reached her arms out. “Yes,” she whispered. “You can call me Nursie.”
Jacqueline went to her quickly and they shared an embrace.
Mrs. Murray nuzzled the crook of Jacqueline’s neck and her eyes lifted to meet Isabella’s. “I expect that would be quite lovely,” Mrs. Murray said after getting control of her emotion. “Now, off you go, my little lass, while your curls are still bouncing.”
Of course, Jacqueline’s perfectly curled blonde hair was always in immaculate ringlets, but Mrs. Murray fluffed them, all the same, before returning the girl to her waiting aunt. Jacqueline slipped one hand into Lady Abigail’s and then reached out to Isabella with the other.
It was one of the things about Jacqueline that Isabella enjoyed so much. Her pure, innocent spirit. Of course, Isabella should follow behind the two girls as just an employee, but both Lady Abigail and Jacqueline stood ready. So, with a girlish giggle of her own, Isabella took Jacqueline’s hand. The three of them happily marched down the broad stairway leading to the main house.
It wasn’t until they got to the hallway leading into the large drawing room that the fun giggling stopped. Mrs. Peterson was in that hall. It was as if someone had opened a window and let a cold gust in. Lady Abigail took the lead with little Jacqueline in hand while Isabella slipped back, just behind them.
In this way, they entered the drawing room. Isabella found the rest of the family already seated. The duke sat in the large high back chair closest to the fire with a blanket over his lap. Isabella wondered if his health was not good. The duchess was sitting next to her son at a card table and got up to embrace her daughter at her entrance. Jacqueline gave her grandmother a very proper curtsy before giving her a light hug.
Lady Abigail shared many of her father’s sharp facial features, but it was clear that her petite frame and lush, dark red hair was her mother’s. Though she looked to be at least ten years younger than her husband, the duchess had some gray streaks running through the rich auburn hair that fell in little curls around a bandeau.
Isabella could see that Jacqueline was just as nervous as she when standing before her grandfather.
She gave a deep curtsy and, as clear as a bell, said, “Good evening, Your Grace. You are looking very well.”
Isabella wondered at the sentence that she had encouraged Jacqueline to practice over and over till it was perfect. Upon closer examination, he didn’t look well at all.
“And tell me what you learned, young lady,” he said in response, no light in his eyes.
The whole of the room was watching this exchange with joy, and yet the duke didn’t seem as moved as all the others by her angelic face.
Jacqueline looked back to her governess, who stood just behind her. Isabella gave a reassuring nod for encouragement.
“I have learned to count and recite the Lord’s prayer.”
“Well then, let's hear this,” the duke said, putting aside the book he had been reading. He spoke with some skepticism, which discouraged the girl.
Isabella took a step forward and, bending down, encouraged the child onward. In Isabella’s eyes, she did wonderfully. Lady Abigail and Her Grace even clapped when Jacqueline finished the Lord’s prayer, though she had stumbled once.
The duke said nothing to the child.
“You seem to be making good progress, Miss Watts,” was all he said before returning to his reading.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she responded, taking the child’s hand and preparing to leave.
“Jacqueline, won't you come over here and show mother how you drew that pretty flower the other day,” Lord Bellfourd said from his card table.
“Oh, yes. I would love to see a drawing,” Duchess Wintercrest announced, putting her card game aside.
A servant produced a small writing desk with tools and Jacqueline went to sit by her grandmother. Isabella wasn’t exactly sure what to do. She was told to keep charge of the child for the night but didn’t know if she should stay or excuse herself. When Jacqueline had gone to the duchess, Isabella had been invited to sit. She had taken a wooden chair against the wall, so as not to intrude on the intimacy of the family.
After a few minutes, Lady Abigail had joined her mother, brother, and niece, at the card table and was attempting to teach little Jacqueline a simple card game.
“Miss Watts, do you play the piano at all?” Duchess Wintercrest asked.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Would you play for us now?” she asked sweetly, motioning to a pianoforte just to the side of Isabella. “My daughter did not take to lessons, and I so miss the sound of music in the evening.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Isabella said, taking a seat at the piano.
There was already sheet music laid out. Another servant appeared wordlessly and placed a small candelabra on the pianoforte to give her the best light.
“Thank you,” she said to the man she hadn’t met yet.
He nodded and returned to the corner of the room where he stood waiting. The music was simple enough, and Isabella recognized it as a sonata by Pleyel that she had learned in her youth.
She played softly in the background to amuse the duchess but not to distract them from their evening together. She got so lost in concentration over the notes, that she didn’t even notice when Lord Bellfourd came to stand next to her.
She came to a part on the page that she couldn’t quite see due to the previous page covering it partially. Before she even had time to react, a hand reached forward and fixed the offending page.
“I suppose you have come to tease me some more,” Isabella said without stopping her playing.
She had become entirely used to his teasing manner over the week, during his various visits with his niece, and had found herself becoming quite comfortable around him.
“I would do no such thing,” Lord Bellfourd said, faking shock. “I came to admire your wonderful playing. Perhaps you will teach Jackie to play as well?”
“I am not sure if she is old enough at the moment, but certainly, I would be happy to teach her in the future.”
“I suppose you are right, though it is a pity.”
“A pity? Why is that, Lord Bellfourd?”
“Well, I had hoped you could teach her and have a song ready for when I return in the fall.”
“Return? Where are you going, Christian?” Lady Abigail chimed in, overhearing the conversation.
“To town for the season, of course,” Lady Wintercrest answered. “Your father is not well enough to go this year for parliament. Christian will oversee what is needed.”
“Can’t I go as well, then? I know we agreed that I wouldn’t go this year since you will be here with father, but if Christian is going?”
Isabella continued to play, but her heart went out to Lady Abigail. Indeed, any girl of her age would be dying to leave the country for the society of the season.
“I do not feel comfortable allowing you to go without a chaperone,” the duke chimed in not once glancing up from his book.
It was the final word on the matter. Lady Wintercrest took her daughter's hand in comfort and tried to encourage her with thoughts of summer in the country.
Isabella was surprised at how disappointed she felt, knowing that Lord Bellfourd would be leaving for the season. She wondered if it was perhaps just jealousy that he was going to enjoy the society that she had once had. She felt it was more than that, though. She would miss his company and the smiles he brought to not only his niece, but also Mrs. Murray and herself, on his visits.
“I can do my best to find something simple for Miss Jacqueline to learn in order to celebrate your return,” she said as she ended her piece.
She looked up at Lord Bellfourd to see his bright blue eyes smiling down at her.
“I would appreciate that very much. I know Jackie would love it also,” he said with gratitude that made Isabella’s heart swell.
She was quite confident that he had asked purely because he knew that to do such a thing for her uncle’s homecoming would make Jacqueline feel so dignified. It would give her a place as part of the family.