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There are advantages to having loyal staff who have watched you grow up from childhood. Occasionally they are willing to help when needed, and such is the case with Giles, our butler. The following morning, as if Reginald knew in his heart I needed to hear from him, a posted letter arrived. After mail had been delivered, each morning our butler gave the entire stack of letters to my father. If something were among the arriving correspondence addressed to another, he would be the one to divvy the post if he saw fit. Of course, anything from Reginald would have no doubt been confiscated if it had my name as the addressee.
Giles, apparently privy to all the conversations of the household had, as any good servant, kept silent in the background. It wasn’t until recently that I realized he had harbored empathy for me, regarding my choices in male companionship. As I came down to breakfast, he cornered me in the hall and slipped the envelope into my hand.
“This came for you in the morning delivery,” he whispered. “I thought it only fair that I should deliver it directly to you.” He winked affectionately, accenting the crow’s-feet around his eyes. He had, after twenty years of service, entered his elder years. Having never known him to disobey an order in the household, my heart swelled with gratitude at the gesture.
“Giles, you are a dear,” I replied. “Thank you so much.” I shoved the letter into my skirt pocket and grinned my gratefulness from ear to ear.
“You are most welcome, Lady Isabella. I shall be pleased to do so again in the future if called upon.”
He turned and left with the stack of envelopes, heading for my father at the breakfast table to deliver the mail. I, on the other hand, headed in the opposite direction back toward my room for a moment of privacy. After locking my door, I sat on a chair by my window and slipped the envelope open with my finger. Anxiously pulling out the correspondence, I held it in my trembling hands.
“My dearest, Isabella...”
Dearest, he calls me dearest, and my heart swells.
“It is with great regret and sorrow that I pen this message to you. Recently it has been brought to my attention that our association and friendship is a conflict of interest in my current position as solicitor for your father. Our firm has represented his legal needs for over twenty years. As our senior partner has reminded me, the satisfaction of our clientele is paramount. Any personal desires that I may hold in continuing our friendship, which may contain romantic notions as I’m told, must cease.
As of this morning, I have been sternly advised to break our personal rapport immediately. If I do not, there will be consequences up to and including my dismissal of employment.
Please be assured that I hold you in the highest regard and wish you every happiness in the future.
Sincerely,
Reginald”
By the time I finished the letter, I had crushed it between my fingers. Tears of sorrow, laced with underlying anger, trickled down my cheeks. In my heart, I knew that Reginald did not wish us to part. Nevertheless, my father must have interfered and put his foot down as he had warned. Hatred for my parents consumed me to such an extent that I feared I would run downstairs and stab my father with the cutlery on the breakfast table.
Undeterred and defiant, I wiped my tears from my cheeks. The letter found a place in the bottom of my dresser drawer underneath my slips. After powdering my nose again, I descended the stairs to join my family for breakfast. Two can play this game, I thought to myself. And play it to the end, I would.
“Good morning,” I gleefully announced, heading for the sideboard and grabbing a plate. Father sat, going through the morning mail. Needless to say, I loathed the despicable man. After filling my plate with food, I sat down, flipped open the linen napkin, and placed it on my lap.
“I’ve been thinking,” I stated. “If you wish me to make a good impression at the opera this Friday with Lord Ridley, a new evening gown might do the trick.” Instantly that comment perked my mother’s ears that I should suggest enticing the man with a new frock. Father, who never remained quiet when money was mentioned, took no time answering after considering the merits of my suggestion.
“I have no objection. You may charge it to my account, but don’t overdo it,” he warned.
“Thank you. May I have the driver take me into town around eleven?”
“Do you wish to accompany Isabella?” My father glanced at my mother, suggesting to ruin everything.
“Oh dear,” she sighed. “I’m afraid that my lady’s bridge club meets this morning here at our home.”
Too blind to see any untoward motives on my part, she relented.
“You may take the car and go. Will you be seeing our usual dressmaker?”
“Yes, no doubt,” I replied. “However, if I find nothing to my liking, I may try a few other shops.”
Father placed his hand inside his vest and pulled out his wallet. To my shock, he opened it and grabbed fifty pounds, handing it over to me.
“Here, take this in case you need anything else.” He held out the crisp notes.
Devil, I thought to myself. He is going to shower me with clothes and money to purchase my willingness to court the snake. The two of them were in cahoots regarding my future, which bordered on criminal. My mother appeared to be uninformed, but I wondered about her involvement too. Naturally, I grabbed the offering without guilt.
“Thank you,” I said demurely. “It’s very kind of you to offer.” I folded the bills and shoved them in my skirt pocket that had recently held Reginald’s letter. Little did my parents know that I planned to break the barrier between the two of us while dress shopping. Frankly, I felt gleefully wicked.
****
AS I PACED UP AND DOWN the street, keeping an eye on the firm’s office door, I anticipated that Reginald would eventually leave for lunch. For my daring plot to work, I prayed earnestly that he would be alone rather than eat with a coworker. My wristwatch had just moved its hand toward noon. Inwardly, I despaired he would appear. I halted for a moment, wringing my hands in worry, when the door flew open and Reginald bounced down the stoop to the sidewalk. He turned toward the left unaware that I stood only a few yards away. As he traversed the crowded walkway, I gained distance until we strode side by side.
“Hello, Reginald.” Naturally, I could not contain the giddy smile spreading across my face. He halted in his step when he heard my voice.
“Isabella!”
A mixture of surprise and fear flashed in his gaze, which caused me to doubt the wisdom of my actions. The last thing I wanted to do was cause him trouble.
“What are you doing here?”
He glanced around at the people surrounding us as we stood still in the midst of a rambling crowd, appearing fearful that we might be seen together.
“I needed to see you,” my voice quavered.
“Didn’t you receive my letter?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
His eyes darted over my shoulder, and alarm spread across his face. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me through the door of a nearby flower shop. With apprehension etched across his face, he watched another male pass by the door.
“That was close.” His chest heaved. “Our clerk could have seen us together.”
Reginald turned his attention to me, and I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him until my lips swelled. The aroma of the flower shop’s blooms filled my nostrils, sending romantic notions swirling through my head.
“May I help you?” A voice from behind the counter inquired as a result of our sudden presence. A small, stout, middle-aged woman smiled in our direction.
“What should we do?” I whispered.
“Purchase a bouquet,” he answered quietly. “Seems only natural.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take it.” I knew if I returned with flowers, my parents would question me relentlessly. Besides, I still needed to shop, and carrying around a dozen red roses in my arms would be rather awkward.
“Just one,” I replied. “Purchase one red rose for me to take away and tell me there is still hope that we will be together.” My desperation needed a sign.
“How can there be?” Reginald whispered in my ear. He looked at the clerk and implored her absence. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied. “I have things to do in the back room.” She grinned at the two of us as if she were watching a romantic dalliance play out before her eyes.
When she disappeared, I turned toward him. “Reginald,” I pleaded. “I do not wish to part.”
“Neither do I.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it tightly between his cold fingers. “But darling, the choice has been made and we must.”
“My father threatened your livelihood. He told me would,” my voice boomed. “I hate the man.”
“Don’t,” he said. Reginald brought his hand to my cheek and glided his fingertips across my skin. “He has his reasons.”
“What reasons? He wishes me to marry an aristocrat. This is the twentieth century, for heaven’s sake, not the past where a woman had no voice in the matters of the heart.” My lungs heaved, rapidly inhaling air as I spewed my displeasure. Reginald, on the other hand, appeared resigned to our plight and calmer.
“Let us meet in secret,” I beseeched. “What harm can it do?”
“I’ve been told that your engagement is pending with Lord Ridley,” he sadly remarked. His gaze pulled away as if it hurt to admit the announcement.
“Yes, my parents desire it, and the snake wishes it.” I seethed in disgust. My hand began to tremble in Reginald’s as he continued to hold it tightly.
“Snake?” he asked quizzically.
“I think he’s a snake, and I have no desire to be his wife. Nevertheless, he...” My thought shifted into silence, holding back the secret he professed to hold. Surely Reginald would think me a foolish woman to be manipulated as such.
“Darling, you should do as your parents require of you,” he admonished me in a fatherly tone. “They have your best interests at heart. Besides...” He halted his words and gazed into my eyes longingly. “The responsibilities I bear between work and home make it difficult to pursue a courtship.”
My heart sank into an abyss of despair. “You don’t mean that,” I protested. “You love me, and I love you.”
“Isabella,” he breathed from his lips, imploring me to understand.
Not caring who witnessed my actions, I flung my arms around Reginald and kissed him ardently. My body and soul ached for him. An undeniable connection between the two of our hearts existed, and no matter how much he protested, it could not be denied.
Rather than resisting me in return, Reginald passionately responded. His kissed me deeply, and I felt my strength drain from my body as if I were at his mercy to do with me as he pleased even in a flower shop. My heart adored him, and I wanted to be his wife. He pulled away from my lips, gazing at me as if he were in agony too.
“I adore you; you know I do,” he muttered, sounding tragically poetic.
Unable to commit further with words of love, he turned toward the counter. The clerk reappeared from behind a door, smirking at the two of us.
“One long-stem red rose, with a white ribbon,” he ordered.
Reginald pulled out a few quid from his wallet and handed it over. In return, she gave him a perfectly bloomed flower, with a bow tied around its stem. When he handed it to me, my heart leaped in my chest.
“Darling, this is all I can give you at the moment as a token of my love, but I can hardly give you any hope of a future.”
My trembling hand reached out and took the rose, clutching it to my chest. “Please, Reginald, let us see one another when we can,” I implored him.
He lowered his head in disappointment. “I cannot in good conscience encourage or agree to a duplicitous relationship. It does you, your parents, and even Lord Ridley dishonor.”
“Oh, Reginald,” I groaned. “Don’t...”
“I must go,” he said. He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek as if I were a little girl in need of assurance rather than the woman he intimately longed to make love to.
“Will I see you again?” I asked on the verge of tears.
“I cannot say,” he replied indifferently. With those words, he flung open the door and sprinted down the sidewalk out of sight.
Too distraught to move, I remained standing by the door, clutching the rose. Even though all the thorns had been clipped from the stem, I felt as if one had lodged painfully in my heart.
“If it’s any consolation,” the clerk said, “it is clear to me the man is besotted with you.”
“Perhaps,” I whimpered. “But we cannot be together.”
“Don’t despair,” she assured me. “Love often wins.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
With a rose in hand, I stepped out into the fresh air, glancing to my left and right. Reginald had disappeared. Now alone and with money in my purse, I had the awful task of dress shopping for my engagement with Lord Ridley. The onerous task would not be an easy one. In a daze, I headed for the dress shop with a bleeding heart and reddened eyes.
