Chapter Seventeen

 

Isabel remained at Scarlett Hall three days following the party, and each day was filled with the joy of being with Nathanial and her sisters once again. They laughed and reminisced about days past. Of when their father chased them around the house when they were little—even Nathanial experienced this, although less often than the girls—or when they played Blind Man’s Bluff in the back garden. How they laughed when they recalled their father tumbling into a rose bush and emerging with multiple scratches on his face and hands, as well as a tear in the sleeve of his coat! All that so he could retrieve a ball that had bounced into the flowerbed.

Isabel returned to Camellia Estates with reluctance, but she had little time to settle back into her daily routine the following day when she came down the stairs in the morning to find Laurence returned home with a gift. It was not the typical present—no jewelry or flowers or some sort of trinket to please her. No, he returned with a young woman with dark hair and a fair complexion perhaps a year or so younger than Isabel.

“I would like you to meet Nancy, your lady’s maid.”

Isabel had forgotten that Laurence had conducted interviews in order to procure a woman to assist her, and she was unsure how she felt about that. At Scarlett Hall, everyone dressed themselves—their father had insisted that the expense was unnecessary, and their mother agreed. Now that she was a duchess, however, it would not be becoming of her not to have one, at least according to Laurence.

Nancy bobbed a curtsy as she continued to stare at the floor. “It is an honor to serve you, Your Grace,” she said in a soft voice.

Laurence grasped his lapels with pride as if he had procured the Crown Jewels. “She was trained under the careful eye of the lady’s maid to Lady Clancy.”

“I am glad you are here, Nancy,” Isabel said with a warm smile as she donned a kidskin glove. “I am certain that Mrs. Atkins will see you to your room. I am leaving for the day, but we will speak later when I return.”

“Isabel,” Laurence said in a firm tone, “I believe it is imperative you spend time with Nancy. She will be expected to begin her services as soon as possible, but if she is unaware of what those services are, today will be a waste of her time.”

“I had thought that since Nathanial…”

“He has seen enough of you already,” he replied, his voice bearing a sternness she had not expected. “I have work I must complete.” He stalked down the hallway, or stalked as well as he could with his limp.

Isabel felt a surge of frustration course through her. Nathanial would be gone in just a few days, and her plans for the day were ruined. However, Laurence was her husband, and therefore, she sighed and shook her head, removing the gloves once again.

“You served with Lady Clancy?” Isabel asked Nancy.

“Yes, Your Grace. Or at least I was trained by her lady’s maid.” She had a distinct Irish accent that Isabel found endearing. “Lady Clancy, she let me do some of Peggy’s duties so I could practice.” She still had not looked at Isabel. “I hope I meet your approval.” The last was barely audible, and Isabel could see the girl was apprehensive. Despite her nervousness, she possessed a warmness that Isabel liked.

“I am sure we will get on beautifully,” Isabel replied. She sighed and glanced down the hallway toward the study. “Follow me.” She led Nancy up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom. “I believe the servant’s staircase is through that door.” She pointed at a nondescript door at the end of the hall and laughed. “I am afraid I am relatively new to Camellia Estates, as well, so we may be learning our way around together. As a matter of fact, we can tour the house now, if you would like, and we will see how much I have learned in the past month. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Nancy replied.

Isabel placed her fingers on the girl’s chin and lifted her face. “There is no need to look down when you speak to me,” she said kindly. “I might be a duchess, but I am also a woman.”

Nancy gave her a shy smile. “Yes, Your Grace.”

They toured the entire house, Isabel introducing Nancy to servants as they encountered them—Isabel was surprised she remembered all their names—and when they were done, they returned to Isabel’s bedroom.

“You will be tending me most of the time, of course, but Mrs. Atkins will also have duties for you at times. Have I missed anything do you think?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Why, no, Your Grace. At least, I don’t think so. But if I have any questions, I’ll ask. That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Isabel took Nancy’s hands in hers. “Never be afraid to speak to me or to ask questions.” When she received a smile for her words, she added, “Now, Mrs. Atkins will be in the kitchen at this hour, so go search her out and she will show you to your room.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Nancy said with a quick curtsy before heading toward the door that led to the servants’ stairway.

Isabel smiled when the woman was gone. It was strange how she had a heart for those who served, and yet Juliet acted as if they were subhuman. Yet, Juliet only acted as society dictated, and Isabel knew her own treatment of the servants was rare for one in her position.

The clock on the mantle showed it was just past noon. She still had plenty of time to go see Nathanial, so Isabel set off in search of Laurence. However, when she entered the study, she found it empty. Neither was he in the library or the drawing room. After knocking on his bedroom door and receiving no reply, she went to the ballroom intent on going to the hidden room he had shown her.

However, she was surprised when she found him sitting upon a stool before a set of canvases on easels in front of one of the large windows in the ballroom, a tarpaulin stretched out over the floor to keep paint from staining the polished wood.

“Ah, Isabel,” Laurence said without even a glance over his shoulder. It was not a pleased greeting but rather one a headmaster would give to a student sent to him for misbehaving. “Has Nancy become acquainted with our home?”

“Yes,” Isabel replied as she walked over to him. “What are you doing in the ballroom?”

“I decided that it was time to bring my work out into the open,” he replied as if it was a natural step to take. “I no longer wish to hide what I do.”

She studied the canvas before him and was impressed by the bold colors he used to depict a field with a tree to the left. “It is beautiful,” she whispered as she looked over his shoulder.

Laurence made no reply as he cleaned his brush and took another from the small table beside him.

“I did as you asked,” she continued with determination. “May I return to Scarlett Hall to see my brother once more before he returns to school?”

Laurence dabbed at the canvas, adding lighter green to the rolling landscape, but remained silent.

“Laurence?”

“The party we attended for your sister?” he asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did.” She looked at the back of his head with suspicion. There was a strange tone in his voice, as if he asked but did not care what she answered. “Did you?”

He laughed as he cleaned the brush once more and then placed it in a cup. “How kind of you to ask.” This time she did not miss the sarcasm in his voice. “My leg,” he turned and faced her “pained me when I was speaking with your mother.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” she said. “I did not know…”

“No, you did not,” he retorted. “You were nowhere to be found.”

Isabel took a step back from the heat of his anger, although he had not raised his voice. “It was Juliet,” she said, hoping he would understand. “She needed to be cared for.”

However, her hope was dashed when he replied, “She has a mother, and that is not you.”

Now Isabel grew angry. How dare he speak so crassly to her. Of course he would not understand the relationship she shared with her family. After seeing how he and Harriet treated one another, she could see he had no idea of what family consisted. “I am sorry about your leg,” she said, attempting to keep her anger from her words. “Truly, I am.”

Laurence shook his head and walked over to a window that looked out at the gardens. “It is not my leg, nor Juliet, that bothers me.”

“Then what is it?” Isabel demanded, tired of this game. She had no desire to anger the man further, but he was infuriating! “Tell me so I can make it right.”

“I want to be happy,” he replied. “And you can do that for me. However, for you to do that, you must be here. With me. Not back at Scarlett Hall or in your room or in the garden drinking wine.

Guilt flooded her when she heard the pain behind his words. “I did not mean to be away from you. And I agree that I spent more time with Nathanial at the party than I did with you. I apologize for that.”

“And the painting you promised?” He turned to look at her for the first time. “Do you still wish to join me?”

She hesitated only a moment before replying, “I do.” It was a lie, but at this point, she did not care. “I have been so preoccupied that I forgot.”

This seemed to appease him. “Go to Scarlett Hall today and enjoy time with your family. Tomorrow morning, we begin your first lesson in painting.”

“I look forward to it,” Isabel replied before leaning in and kissing his cheek. This man’s kindness knew no bounds, for all he wanted was to spend time with her. And although she should have been thinking of him as she hurried out of the ballroom, her thoughts were instead on returning to Scarlett Hall.

***

That night after dinner, Isabel and Laurence had their customary drinks in the drawing room. Isabel attempted to focus on what Laurence was saying, but her mind continued to drift to other matters. She recalled when she was seventeen and had first met Arthur. They had attended a birthday party not unlike the one given in Juliet’s honor several days earlier. He was the same age as she, but there was a maturity about him that had caught her attention as soon as they were introduced.

He had called on her several times before her eighteenth birthday, after which he began to court her. He brought her flowers and showered her with gifts, and Isabel thought him the most thoughtful and handsome man she had ever known.

Soon they were married, ready to embark on a journey of love and adventure. However, what was expected did not take place, and she refused to recall the painful events.

With great effort, she pushed the thoughts back into the box where she had locked them away, hoping they would not return but knowing she had little control over when they decided to reappear to her. She was glad to have them gone, even if only for a short time.

Now, she had married again, and the thought of falling in love with Laurence terrified her, which in turn brought on a bout of guilt she struggled to shake. Laurence was a good man deserving of love, but she could not allow herself to be the one to give him such a gift. The fact of the matter was, she had walked that path before—an image of Arthur flashed in her mind again of its own accord—and what she had learned was that any relationship they could build together would destroy not only her, but him as well.

“Isabel?”

Isabel started. “I am sorry, Arthur.” She gasped when she realized what she had said. “Laurence! I am so sorry. I did not mean to say his name. Please, forgive me!”

Rather than being angry, Laurence set his glass on the table and placed his hand on his hurt leg. “I suppose it will happen from time to time,” he said. Then he sighed. “I believe I will retire for the evening.” He stood, and although he attempted to hide it, the hurt from her words was etched in his features.

Isabel felt horrible. She had no intentions of hurting this man, but she did so time and again. “I must say something before you go,” she said as she rose from her seat. She wrapped her fingers around her skirts; what she had to say would be difficult. Not for him, but for her. “You see, the truth of the matter is, I do not miss him.”

He gave her a kind smile. “Only a fool would believe such a thing. I understand the man was your husband, and he was a better man than I. I have no anger toward you.”

“You are a good man,” she replied. “Not because you have a title or wealth, but because of your heart.”

He smiled. “Thank you for saying so,” he replied, although he did not sound as if he believed her. “I shall see you in the morning.”

When he was gone, Isabel finished the remainder of the wine in her glass and then poured another. She hoped Laurence was not too upset, but she could not blame him if he was. Since they had married, she had not been a very good wife. Just thinking about what little attempt she had made since they spoke their vows made her guilt grow, and she grabbed the wine bottle and took it back with her to the sofa.

Her life had not proven to be what she had expected, and yet Laurence was relentless in his hope that their marriage would be successful. Although she suspected that she would never grow to love the man—a great affection, perhaps, but not love—she vowed to do what she could to make him happy. If that meant painting with him when he asked, she would paint. If it meant appearing content even when she missed her life at Scarlett Hall the most, she would smile. If it meant allowing him into her bed in order to give him an heir, she would turn down the covers for him.

She thought again about Arthur, the man who had promised her not only the world, but happiness as well. The young girl she was before had believed his sweet words, but the woman she was now understood the meaning behind those promises and how impossible they were.

The tall clock struck one, and Isabel started. She had lost complete track of time and had nearly finished off the rest of the wine beside her. The room tilted as she stood, but she was able to gain her bearings before retiring to her bedroom for the night. Although the hour was late, Nancy was there waiting with drooping eyes to help her into her nightdress.

She will be a wonderful lady’s maid, Isabel thought giddily.

As Isabel lay beneath the covers and the moonlight created a pattern of boxes across her blanket, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, wondering if perhaps Laurence was different and his promises of wishing her to be happy were true.