Chapter One

 

Mrs. Isabel Barnet, formerly Miss Isabel Lambert, had not always been sorrowful. In fact, she had been quite happy for the majority of her life. She had grown up in Scarlett Hall, a place she loved. She had married her beloved Arthur during her first season, and the world had been theirs to conquer.

However, that was not meant to be, and now, three years after their wedding and one after his death, she was alone. Not alone as in the sense there were no others around her, for she had her family. No, this was a sense of a constant fog enveloping her mind, which made thinking clearly difficult and constricted her vision. The only thing on which she could focus was how her life was now forfeit.

Sheep dotted the rolling green hills behind the gardens of Scarlett Hall. The sun hung over the horizon, continuing to warm the air, and yet she felt chilled. It was the cold that had sunk in not long after her vows were completed, and the chill had only worsened the day she learned Arthur had died, as did a part of her. Her hopes and dreams were gone at a moment’s notice, replaced with despair in the next breath.

Her mother had welcomed her back to Scarlett Hall with open arms. Her sisters, although troublesome at times, did their best to console her. However, the pain, the heartache inside, could not be healed. And although it might be possible to find new love, she found it difficult to hope for such fortuity.

For love was sweet whispers of promises never kept. It was given and not received, and above all, it destroyed one’s soul. Of course, these were not words written in the poetry she once read, nor was it the advice of a sage of wisdom. Rather, it was the understanding that comes from experiencing the life she had lived thus far.

Indeed, she had experienced many things, most of which she had kept secret. For her burden of shame and guilt was a heavy weight to bear, and she wished not to burden another with that which was for her alone. To do so would be an unfair action indeed.

Hurried whispers came to her ear, and she turned to see her youngest sister, Juliet, aged seventeen, and their cousin Annabel, aged sixteen, walking down the path, their heads close together. Juliet’s hair, which was as dark as the eyes of a fox—an appropriate analogy if one knew of her antics—flowed behind her, and the grin she displayed told much. She wore the blue muslin dress usually reserved for special occasions, and Isabel knew that something was amiss.

The truth of the matter was, Juliet was prone to flights of fancy and getting into mischief, and Isabel feared that one day the girl’s behavior would get her into trouble. That is, more trouble than she had already gotten herself into thus far in her life; the type of trouble from which she would not be able to extract herself. Then, as was typical, it would be left up to Isabel to see her returned to safety.

Sighing, she went in search of where Juliet had gone only to encounter Hannah sitting beneath a tree, her customary book opened in her lap. Hannah was nineteen and had proclaimed her life would be spent reading and writing poetry. In her mind, marriage was old fashioned, meant to keep women under the thumb of men. In a way, Isabel could not help but agree, but it was the way of things, and Hannah would see firsthand how difficult it was for a woman to not marry.

Hannah’s first London season had come and gone, yet she had been unable to attend due to a sudden illness, one of which Doctor Comerford was unable to explain. Isabel suspected her sister had fabricated the entire illness in order to remain home rather than attend the season. At least, she would not put it past the girl.

“It seems our sister has disappeared,” Isabel said when she came to a stop beside where Hannah sat.

Hannah sighed and closed her book, her finger marking her place. Her hair was much like that of Isabel, the color of wheat, a stark contrast to their scheming sister. Also quite different from Juliet, she wore a more appropriate morning dress, yellow in color with white daisies embroidered on the bodice. “Do you not care that she may find trouble?” she asked as she squinted up at Isabel.

Isabel gave a derisive sniff. “It is not a matter of caring but rather a matter of whether or not my words will do any good if I was to warn her. Juliet will do whatever she desires, and no amount of scolding or harsh words will change that.” She gave a heavy exhale of breath. She loved her sisters dearly; however, being the eldest, she had to take their burdens upon herself, something she found tiresome the older she became. Hannah was old enough to take over watching their sister, but she refused to be of any aid whatsoever.

“You wish me to help.” It was a statement, not a question. Did the girl know how to read Isabel’s thoughts? Hannah shook her head and stood, clutching the book to her chest. “One day you will see that our sister is beyond help.”

“Do not say such things,” Isabel said as the two began to walk down the stone path their sister and cousin had taken. “There is no one who is beyond help, and more so our sister. We cannot simply ignore what she does.”

“You should allow Mother to handle her,” Hannah replied with a huff. “It is her duty, not ours.”

Anger flared in Isabel, and she reached out to grab her sister’s arm. “Do not say that about her,” she admonished. “Mother deserves our respect, not insolence. You have no idea what it is like to be a widow and be forced to change everything in your life.”

“I am sorry,” Hannah whispered, making Isabel’s heart ache. “However, Mother never joins us anymore. It is as if she has become a recluse.” Then, the quietest of the sisters added, “And I miss her.”

Isabel wished to weep. To weep for the hurt she, herself, suffered, but also for that of her sisters. Yet, releasing tears would only compound the sadness they all endured; therefore, she held them back. Instead, she embraced Hannah. “I understand,” she whispered. “I miss her, as well. Perhaps, like many of us, she is having a season of sadness over father. It has only been two years since his passing, and you know how close they were.”

“That could be,” Hannah said as their embrace broke. “You believe it is because she misses Father that she hides away?”

Isabel nodded. “Indeed, I believe it is.”

However, as the words left her lips, Isabel was not so sure. The entire family had grieved, their mother right there beside her children; however, it was only in the last month or so that she had withdrawn from them all, and her once beautiful face, which had always been full of smiles, was now gaunt.

“Come,” Isabel said with a forced smile. “Let us go in search of Juliet before trouble finds her.”

“Or she it,” Hannah said with a laugh.

***

They had circled the garden twice, checking behind every bush and hedge, and Isabel grew frustrated with each breath.

“One does not simply disappear,” she said. “Where has she gone?” Her eyes searched about once more before she turned to Hannah at her side. The woman held her head low, and Isabel sighed. “Tell me what you know.”

Hannah shook her head. “She threatened me.”

Isabel wished her mother was there to handle the situation; however, she was not. As usual. Although sadness consumed her, Isabel placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and offered the woman a smile. “Her threats are merely that; there is nothing she can do. You should know this by now. Therefore, tell me. What do you know?”

Hannah gave a heavy sigh. “Very well. Earlier this morning, Juliet spoke to Annabel about Daniel.”

“The stable boy?” Isabel asked in confusion.

“Yes. Although I do not believe what Juliet said, I do wonder…”

Isabel tightened her hand on her sister’s shoulder without thought. “Come now. Tell me. What is she planning?”

Hannah looked up at Isabel. “To kiss him!” she blurted. “She told Annabel that every day she finds him and he kisses her. She wished to prove to our cousin that her story is true.”

Isabel stifled a groan and took her sister’s hand in hers. “Thank you for telling me. Let us go in search of her. And not a word of this to Mother. Understood?”

Hannah nodded, and the two hurried through the garden—several of the gardeners offering them bright smiles, which Isabel returned despite her urgent errand. She had always felt it necessary to be kind to those employed by her and her family, for they worked hard to make her life comfortable, and therefore were deserving of at least a smile if she could not offer them anything else.

They moved around the house to the stables, which were hidden behind a copse of trees.

“Do not tell her I told you,” Hannah said. “The rumor will hurt me.”

Isabel came to a stop and turned to her sister. “What did she threaten?”

Hannah sighed and worried her lower lip. “That she will inform everyone of the ton that I faked my illness last season.”

Isabel arched a single eyebrow. “And did you?”

Hannah dropped her eyes to the ground. “Yes.”

“I suspected as much,” Isabel replied as they returned to their trek. “I will deal with that, as well. But for now, we have bigger fish to fry.”

As they neared the stables, Isabel prayed that her youngest sister was not indeed kissing the stable hand. He was a good and kind worker, and she doubted the boy of nineteen…boy? He was of the same age as Hannah! Regardless, he would not do such a thing. Or at least she hoped he would not.

The stables were large with one long center passageway with doors that opened to the many stalls. Not all the stalls contained horses, but each daughter had a horse, as did their brother Nathan and their mother. They also owned four carriage horses, which were used more often than the riding horses, for few took time to go riding these days. Isabel wondered why they even bothered to keep the riding horses.

Upon entering through the large double doors, Isabel placed a finger to her lips to signal to Hannah she was to remain quiet. Halfway down the passageway, Juliet and Annabel stood talking with Daniel.

“Mother is terribly upset with the condition of the stables,” Juliet was saying as she produced a handkerchief and covered her mouth as if to fight off a stench. “So much so that she has become bedridden.”

Daniel lowered his head. “I’ve tried my best, Miss Juliet. I work hard to keep the stalls clean and the horses well taken care of.”

Juliet placed her hand to her breast. “I am afraid that your best is not good enough.” The man sighed, but then what happened next made Isabel widen her eyes in shock, for Juliet dropped her handkerchief and said, “Now I have dropped my favorite handkerchief. Please, fetch it for me.”

When the boy went to one knee in order to retrieve it, Isabel felt an anger erupt in her as Juliet reached out and petted him on the top of his head! Poor Daniel said nothing; although, his face turned a bright crimson and his eyes grew as large as saucers.

“Very good,” Juliet praised.

Isabel had seen enough, and she stalked out into the open, doing her best to keep her rage in a tight rein. As she drew nearer, she realized how difficult it would be. “What are you doing here?” she demanded of her youngest sister.

“I am showing Annabel the stables,” Juliet said without hesitation, as if lying was second nature to her. She reached out and patted the head of the still kneeling stable boy again. “Daniel was kind enough to retrieve…”

No, Isabel would not be able to keep her anger controlled. “Enough!” she said, her voice loud enough to startle the horses nearby. “Annabel, we will meet you in the sitting room. Juliet, wait outside.”

Juliet raised her chin in clear defiance. “I believe…”

“Now!” Isabel said, this time her tone a low threat that she reserved only for the most heinous of offenses.

Juliet spun around with her typical dramatics, her skirts swishing around her ankles, and the two girls walked away. That is, Annabel walked away; Juliet stalked.

Isabel walked over to the stable boy, who rose from his kneeling position, his eyes still on the stable floor. “I am sorry she has treated you so horribly,” Isabel said kindly. “Our mother is not bedridden as Juliet said, and I assure you there is no issue with your work.”

“Thank you,” Daniel replied, his eyes still cast to the ground. “I’ll be sure to keep the standards high.”

Isabel took a step forward and placed a calming hand on the boy’s arm. “I am sorry for Juliet’s actions,” she said.

Daniel looked up at her. “I appreciate your saying so, Miss…that is, My Lady.”

“Now, off you go.”

The boy gave an awkward bow and rushed away.

Now it was time to deal with Juliet, something Isabel looked forward to even less than speaking to Daniel. She hoped her sister had heeded her command and remained waiting outside rather than returning to the house with Annabel. She would not put it past the girl to do just that, if only to defy Isabel’s authority.

However, Juliet was waiting just as Isabel had asked. Thank goodness. “Now, I will ask you a question, and you will answer it truthfully.”

“I always do,” Juliet said with a sniff; although her eyes twinkled. Juliet was beautiful, a fact of which she was well aware, and she used that knowledge to get her way. Coupled with the sweet words she expertly contrived, it typically achieved the effect she wanted.

Isabel, however, knew her sister all too well and, therefore, did not fall for her lies. “Have you allowed that boy to kiss you?”

Juliet gaped. “I would never,” she whispered in a hurt tone. “How could you think such a thing of me?”

“For the simple fact that you told Annabel you committed such acts,” Isabel replied firmly. When Juliet shot a glare at Hannah, Isabel added, “And if you share even one secret from this household to anyone, especially one belonging to Hannah, so help me, you will be sorry.” She despised using threats to make a point, but if that was what it took to get her sister to keep silent, it had to be done. The time for games had long passed. Juliet was mean-spirited and spoiled, and her disrespectful attitude needed to be put to rest once and for all. Where had the sweet child she once had been gone?

“Fine, then,” the younger sister replied. “I shall leave Hannah alone as well as the stable boy. He is just a servant, anyway. No one over which to be upset.”

“He is a person with feelings,” Isabel retorted. “Do not think yourself better than he.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “You sound like Mother,” she said. “But you are not her. If anyone is to correct me, it should be she.”

“Mother has been…”

“Hiding,” Juliet snapped. “Yes, I know. As much as you do. You believe that because your husband died, it has placed you in charge of us all. But you are not!”

The words stung Isabel’s heart, and Juliet looked down at the ground. “I am sorry. I did not mean it.”

“Go inside,” Isabel whispered.

Her sister turned and hurried away, and Isabel walked over to a large tree and leaned against it. Many years ago, she had stood in this same spot and thought about her wedding that was approaching. How happy she had been! Now, a few years later, she wondered what the future would hold. Not only for her, but for her mother and siblings, as well. Thus far, it did not hold much promise.

The sound of a carriage coming up the lane made her stand and looked toward the tall columns that flanked the drive. A beautifully crafted white carriage ambled toward the house and came to a stop in front of the front door.

That was strange, for Isabel had not heard they would be expecting guests. Curious, she walked toward the circular drive, and the door of the carriage opened to a man Isabel recognized immediately, one Laurence Redbrook, Duke of Ludlow. He lived several miles from Scarlett Hall, and Isabel did not know him well, at least not recently.

The Duke walked—or rather limped, for he had been injured in his younger years—toward the front door of the house.

Although she did not know why the duke was at their home, she could not help but wonder why her mother had not informed them the man would be calling.