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James showed Izzy to her seat at the dining table. The vicar, Mr Hammond, and his wife were already seated. The Vicar stood up and bowed and Mrs Hammond, although in deep conversation with Vera, lifted her eyes at her husband’s movement and smiled at Izzy. Vera ignored Izzy completely and continued her conversation with Mrs Hammond.
Izzy fought not to roll her eyes at Vera like a twelve-year-old as Edward and Alice approached the table. The poor vicar was almost seated again when he and James stood up and bowed to Alice.
Alice smiled at the rest of the guests, her eyes lingering on James. “I am sorry to keep you waiting.” She waved her hand at Mr Hammond. “Please, Mr Hammond, sit and enjoy your meal.”
James sat next to the vicar and opposite Elizabeth, ignoring the fact that Vera had moved the chair next to her out a little for him. Izzy gave the table a wide smile and settled that smile on Edward. She would have liked to continue their conversation in the foyer, but Alice and James seemed to be in agreement that she and Edward shouldn’t be left alone.
Knowing Alice had known her parents and where she herself came from, made Izzy feel a little better about being watched so closely. It wasn’t that Alice disliked Izzy; she just didn’t think it right for Edward to be involved with someone who would return to the future. And, Izzy supposed, neither Alice nor James wanted Edward to know the truth. She glanced at Edward. What would he say to the truth?
Izzy touched her napkin to her lips. She could have sworn he was going to kiss her again in the foyer and she couldn’t believe how disappointed she was that he hadn’t. Had he changed his mind, or had he heard James and Alice approaching? Izzy was so mind-fuddled, she wouldn’t have heard anything even if they had been wearing army boots and not soft-soled shoes and slippers.
Every time someone asked Izzy a question, Vera narrowed her eyes, and the moment Izzy took a breath during the answering of said question, the horrid woman would butt in and give her own answer.
James asked Izzy, “Do you like to ride?”
“I do. In fact, the last time I rode I raced my brother. Our horses were both equally fast and Garrett and I were head to head...”
She took a breath and just as she was about to say who won, Vera piped in, “I love to ride, especially in a hunt.”
Izzy cast her attention to her plate. She didn’t want to hear about Lady Crompton’s penchant for riding down little foxes. She couldn’t help it if her face showed how much she detested the thought of chasing a small animal with large dogs and horses.
Vera stared at Izzy as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You do not like to hunt?”
“I hate the thought of it. I can’t help but feel sorry for the fox,” Izzy said. “The noise of dogs barking, the horse’s hooves beating the ground, and horns blasting must scare the poor little thing senseless.”
Vera laughed. She actually laughed. “The best foxes escape to be hunted another day.” She then went on, telling a story about one such fox.
“I have witnessed you riding the hunt,” Mrs Hammond said, “and I must say, you seat a horse perfectly.”
Vera beamed at the woman. “I thank you, Mrs Hammond.”
Mrs Hammond touched her napkin to the corners of her mouth. “Lady Crompton, my husband and I would be honored if you would agree to cut the ribbon at the opening of the new vicarage.”
Vera straightened her back with an air of self-importance. “Thank you. I would love to be included in the ceremony.”
“And,” Mrs Hammond continued, “Lord Wellsneath, we would be doubly honored if you would agree to accompany your fiancée.”
Edward choked on his mouthful of spring lamb. “Fiancée? I’m sorry, but there seems to be a misunderstanding. I have no fiancée.”
Mrs Hammond covered her mouth with her napkin. “I apologize, my lord, I thought...” she glanced at Vera. “I thought...”
“Now, now, Wellsneath,” Vera crooned. “Don’t make Mrs Hammond uncomfortable. The banns are not out at this time, but they will be by the vicarage’s opening, will they not?” She gazed at Alice.
Alice cleared her throat. “I think this is a conversation for another time,” she stated firmly. “I do hope you are enjoying your meal, Mrs Hammond.”
“I am, thank you.”
Izzy could almost taste the relief flowing from the vicar’s wife. Vera had obviously told Mrs Hammond of her and Edward’s engagement, but it seemed to Izzy, Edward did not know about it. Izzy knew it shouldn’t, but Edward’s stunned renunciation of Mrs Hammond’s statement warmed her chest. Her gaze drifted from Lady Crompton to Lord Wellsneath. Vera appeared to be certain of the banns going out in the near future, so why would Edward be surprised by it all?
“Lady Crompton?” James said when she was finished. “Have you seen the latest French fashions? I see that puffed sleeves are once again popular and a heart-shaped neckline is attractive, is it not?”
Glad for the change of subject, Izzy glanced at Edward, who was watching her with obvious interest. Vera mentioned the lowness of the necklines that season and Edward’s gaze washed over Izzy’s décolletage; not that hers was low, but any skin showing in that time felt excessive, and his glance burned.
Heat rushed into Izzy’s cheeks and she flitted her eyes around the room, hoping no one else had noticed his look. But she could tell by Vera’s hostile stare that she, for one, had noticed. Thankfully, however, James and Alice were talking to the vicar, and Mrs Hammond seemed intent on eating every crumb of blueberry pie on her plate.
Vera sipped her wine, regarding Izzy through narrowed eyes. “Alice tells me you write, Miss Davis.”
The dragon made the word ‘write’ sound as if it were something dragged up out of a toilet. Something told Izzy she was about to be set up and her answer came out slowly. “Yes.”
“Do you play an instrument? The harpsichord, for instance?”
“No.” Again, she answered slowly and picked up her glass of wine. She figured she would need the fortification.
“Do you draw?”
Ah, a quicker answer came to her. “No, but my brother is a marvelous painter. He can paint anything.”
“It seems you lack the talents ladies need today. Mayhap we can guide you in your studies. Alice is an accomplished pianist, and I have some skill in playing and singing. Ah, mayhap you sing?”
Yeah, along with the radio. “No. I wouldn’t torture anyone with my singing voice. However, I would love to hear you sometime.” She smiled and tried to make it appear heartfelt.
“You have the voice of an angel,” Mrs Hammond said to Vera. “I too would love to hear you again.”
Alice joined the conversation at that moment. “What a wonderful idea. We will stage a recital. Edward can play while Vera sings and I will play for James. He has a beautiful voice. Mrs Hammond, I am told your daughter has studied violin in Italy, is that correct?”
Mrs Hammond’s face filled with pride. “She has and would be honored to be invited to play at your recital.”
“There,” Vera said. “Even the vicar’s daughter has talent.” She sat back, giving Izzy a pointed look, as if that proved Izzy was less than a lady.
Izzy glanced at Alice but noted that Edward’s mother had missed Vera’s rudeness.
“Miss Davis is a most accomplished writer by all counts,” Edward said.
“But writing is man’s work,” Mrs Hammond said. “It’s not something in which a lady should indulge.”
The woman either didn’t see or ignored Edward’s deathly stare.
“What about Mrs Radcliffe?” James said, trying to help.
Vera’s usually staid expression twisted into a sneer as she let out a laugh. “I have heard from a most reliable source, Mrs Radcliffe is a man.”
Izzy laid her napkin on the table. “She is indeed a woman. Ann Radcliffe, born Ann Ward in Holborn, July 9, 1764. She married William Radcliffe in Bath in 1788. She—”
Vera huffed noisily and waved her hand around to stop Izzy continuing with her speech.
“I believe you, but that’s enough about the destroyer of young minds.”
Edward threw his napkin on his plate. “Lady Crompton, you are being extremely rude. I feel you should apologize to Miss Davis.”
“Now Edward,” Alice said. “Vera is allowed to air her opinions on such matters.”
“What matters are they, Mother?”
“Why matters that concern ladies, of course,” Vera said smugly at Alice coming to her defense. “You know nothing of what ladies have to deal with, Edward. We must hold true to society’s expectations at all times.”
“She is correct,” Alice said, and Mrs Hammond nodded in agreement.
Edward pushed his chair back with a scrape, shot both women black glares, and stormed out of the room.
James indicated to a footman to continue serving. The air was heavy with tension as the poor man set two platters of cheeses, dried fruit, and small cakes in the center of the table.
Izzy stared at the last course while Mrs Hammond attacked it with her fork as if she were starving. The vicar seemed to enjoy the small cakes while Alice chose to nibble on a dried fruit. James chose not to eat anything.
Feeling bad about the tension, Izzy chose what she thought looked like a dried fig, but upon taking a bite, it stuck in her throat. She washed it down with some wine, wishing the meal would end. She bit her lip. Edward and his mother’s relationship seemed strained. And it was all her fault. When she had first met them, they were lovingly free in one another’s company.
She shouldn’t have let Vera get to her. After all, the woman was to be Edward’s wife, and Alice must have liked her a lot to come to her defense the way she did.
Izzy tried to take another bite of the sweet fruit. She was the interloper. I don’t belong in this time—I don’t belong with these people.
***
Izzy was up and dressed early the next morning. She didn’t like to write until the sun filled her bedroom with light, and it being only seven o’clock, she decided she needed to walk off some unexpended energy. Being a lady in the early nineteenth century had one being almost immobile. Sitting around receiving guests for tea, sewing samplers, playing instruments: none of that made for a strong constitution.
She made her way to the back parlor and quickly threaded her way through the settees, uncomfortable chairs, and small tables already boasting vases of freshly cut flowers. Maybe being a servant in these times was better for one’s health––at least, a servant of the gentry. They at least got some exercise.
Throwing the doors wide open, Izzy caught her breath at the chill in the air. Thankful she had grabbed her thick coat, she stepped out onto the patio. Quickly putting it on, she gazed at the vista before her.
The sun was peeking through the gray clouds and its light was falling beside the perfectly kept flower garden. She hurried down the stairs and, to keep her blood warm, walked briskly over the damp path toward the beautifully perfumed daphne and sarcococca shrubs. But it was the sight of the low gardens planted with irises, white cyclamens, and snowdrops that she wanted to take delight in.
Once there, she enjoyed the slight warmth of the sun’s rays, and gazed at the many blue, pink, and white flowers. Breathing in the scent of the flowering shrubs, and letting her shoulders fall in relaxation, she dawdled around the centre pond, reveling in the display. It wasn’t long before she found herself at the end of the garden and she let out a snort. This wasn’t going to exercise her mushy muscles.
She headed out beyond the garden and walked swiftly down the oak-lined esplanade that wound around the lake. She’d only gone a few steps when footsteps crunched the gravel behind her. Who else would be out there that time of day? She spun around.
Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart somersaulted at the sight of Edward hurrying toward her.
Once he was beside her, he tilted his head to indicate they should walk. She did, and he breathed hard as if he were out of breath, but Izzy guessed he was just pretending.
“I saw you leave the house and followed you. I hadn’t thought you could walk so fast. You have me quite out of breath.”
“I took my time in the winter garden and wasn’t walking that fast anyway. Perhaps you’re out of condition.”
An appalled look spread over his face. “You wound me, Miss Davis.”
“I doubt that, my lord.” Izzy let out a laugh but quickly looked around. “We shouldn’t be alone, should we?”
“It is not improper when we have so many witnesses. He pointed to the large glass doors of the dining room and many windows on that side of the house, then flicked his head to the right.
Izzy gazed through the trees. The gardeners were out in force. Some trimmed the high hedges on the other side of the green, while others scythed the grass closer to the house, where the sheep that kept the lawns down elsewhere on the estate weren’t allowed to roam.
Feeling reassured, Izzy looked up at Edward through her lashes. His profile was relaxed, and he seemed in good humor, but the small tic in his slightly tightened jaw told her he wasn’t completely at ease.
“I must apologize for last evening,” Izzy said. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Lady Crompton should extend her apologies to all. I question my mother’s assumption that Lady Crompton and I do indeed make a suitable match.” He gave his head a quick shake. “Please, think no more of it.”
He was probably sorry he’d said anything against Vera, but Izzy couldn’t help a feeling of elation at his confession. Of course, she had no right to feel that way. He was of a different time and marriages in these times were rarely love matches. They were arranged for the benefit of the family’s standing, and heirs were the most important product of a marriage.
She looked around. Even so, she wished they weren’t so conspicuous. She gazed at his lips. How she wanted those lips on hers again. He cocked his head, piercing her eyes with his.
Heat filled Izzy’s cheeks. Had he seen her thoughts on her face?
He glanced at the house and set his jaw in a tight line with that same little tic. “I think it is time we return to the house and the breakfast table.”
Izzy followed his gaze and noted James stepping out of the dining room doors onto the patio. Her guardian was never far away when Edward was around. Izzy sighed. She wanted to spend more time with Edward, but it was time to pretend to be a lady again.