Chapter Twenty-One

 

Numbness. Isabel had felt nothing but numbness for some time now. In fact, it had been well over a year since she had experienced any true emotions. To the casual observer, one might believe she was simply another lady amongst many, for, at various moments, she could be seen smiling or finding joy in a particular activity. However, the majority of the time was spent in complete apathy, both in mind and soul. That was how she found herself now as she entered Scarlett Hall, hoping that happiness would come to her once again.

“Forbes,” Isabel said, “it is good to see you again.”

The old butler did not shy away from her embrace as some butlers would, for which she was glad. The man had been a part of the staff at Scarlett Hall for so long, he was close to being a member of the family, and Isabel was honored he was so kind to her.

Forbes took her bag from her and said, “And it is good to see you again, Your Grace. I will see your bag taken upstairs to your old room.”

“Thank you,” Isabel replied with a smile.

When he was gone, she stood in the foyer staring around with appreciation. And yet, something was missing. She was glad to be home, to be certain, but the joy she had expected was lacking, and that did not sit well with her. Well, it was not as if she returned under the best of circumstances.

An Image of Laurence came to mind. She had not meant to hurt the man, and although she had tried to speak about her feelings with care, her words had only increased his ire. Yet, it was more than that; it was all too clear that his heart had been broken by her words, and for that, she could only feel regret.

“Isabel?”

Isabel turned as her mother came down the staircase. “Hello, Mother.”

“I was not expecting you.”

Was there more gray scattered through her mother’s hair? It was difficult to tell with her light coloring and the swatch of fabric that covered it, but there did seem to be more at her temples than even the last time Isabel had seen her. Regardless, if her hair had changed, her strength had not.

“Laurence will be occupied with business matters this week and suggested I return for a few days’ visit.”

Her mother studied her for a moment as she stepped off the staircase. “Is that all?” she asked. “There is nothing more that brought you back here?”

Isabel had no desire to tell her mother the truth, for she had been the cause of Isabel’s current predicament. “No. There is nothing more.”

“Your sisters and your cousin Annabel are in the garden,” her mother said. “If you would like to join them.”

For a brief moment, Isabel considered speaking with her mother about her troubles with Laurence. How she missed the closeness they had once shared! However, it would do no good, for the woman would never understand the pain Isabel endured. Yes, she was a widow just as Isabel was, but the pain Isabel carried went deeper than her grief over the loss of her husband. Furthermore, what could her mother do if Isabel did tell her? Not a thing.

“I often wonder why Annabel never remained with us,” Isabel said in order to make an attempt at conversation with her mother. There was no denying that Isabel still loved the woman despite the fact she had been forced to clean up the mess her mother had made. “Scarlett Hall is more a home to her than her own.”

Annabel’s parents often left her at home with a chaperon, or a governess when she was younger, or allowed her to stay with Isabel and her sisters. Many nights, the poor girl wept, and Isabel did what she could to console her, assuring her that she was loved.

“Annabel has known she is always welcome here,” her mother replied. “If the time comes, and she wishes to remain, she will do so.”

Isabel pursed her lips. “Unlike me, you mean,” she said.

Her mother went to speak, but Isabel jutted out her chin and strode past the woman without allowing her the opportunity to respond. Once she was outside, Isabel leaned against the railing to rein in her emotions.

Her world was falling apart. Her new marriage, for all intents and purposes, was over, and now she had to decide where to live. Although she wanted to return to Scarlett Hall once more for good, she could not for two reasons. First, it was much too close to Camellia Estates, and thus too close to Laurence. The rumors of the ton would bring forth unnecessary embarrassment for the duke, and she could not do that to him. He was not the one at fault for her shortcomings.

The second reason she could not return to Scarlett Hall was much more heartbreaking. Although she loved the place where she was born and raised, and she missed her sisters terribly, the truth of the matter was that she could not stand to look at her mother on a daily basis. Yes, thinking in such a way about the woman she had loved all her life was terrible, but the anger Isabel had for her mother was that great.

“Isabel!” Hannah cried as she came running down the footpath. “It is you!”

Isabel returned her sister’s smile and then hugged her and kissed her head. “My sweet Hannah,” she whispered. “I have missed you.”

“And I have missed you,” Hannah replied. “I believe Juliet is ill, for she has been behaving herself as of late.”

Isabel laughed as she and Hannah walked in the direction from which Hannah had just come. “That is wonderful to hear. And Annabel? I hear she is with us once again. How is she?”

“She is well, as usual. However, I have a feeling she does not share with us how she truly feels.”

Isabel nodded. She understood all too well the girl’s situation. And her propensity to hide her feelings from others.

“You are upset.”

The statement caught Isabel off-guard, and she stopped beside a large well-trimmed hedge. “I?” she asked with a forced laugh. “I have never been better.”

Hannah sighed and took Isabel’s hands in hers. “You have always looked after me,” she said. Then Juliet and Annabel came around a corner and joined them. “You have looked after all three of us.”

Isabel smiled as the other two girls added their hands to those of Isabel and Hannah to form a circle, and it reminded Isabel of the night before her wedding when they had escaped into the night to drink brandy around a campfire. If only they could repeat that night forever.

“You have encouraged me to do the things I like,” Hannah continued. “Even when others laughed or thought it odd.”

“And I,” Juliet said. “You were patient when you corrected me, demonstrating always how to behave properly.”

Tears welled up in Isabel’s eyes. How she loved these girls so much!

“You are the big sister I have always wanted,” Annabel added. “One who listens to my problems with patience and understanding, and one who gives me sound advice.”

Hannah sniffled. “You have been there for all of us.”

Isabel looked at each of her sisters—Annabel was included in that moniker—and smiled. “Thank you,” she said as she blinked back tears. “I love you all and will continue to help in any way I am able.”

Juliet glanced at Hannah, who gave a nod. “We are worried about you,” she said. “We know you carry some sort of burden, and you can share with us if you would like. It might make you feel better.”

The words were innocent and heartfelt, and Isabel could not stop a tear from escaping her eye and roll down her cheek. As she looked over the three faces before her, her heart swelled with love for them. Although she wished she could bare her heart to these young women, she would not, for they did not deserve to be burdened with what were her problems.

“You are correct when you say that I carry many burdens,” she replied, choosing her words with care. “However, there is no reason for me to speak of them now.” When the girls went to argue, she stopped them with a raised hand. “All you must know is that I am doing what I can to resolve these issues, and if I believe you can lend me aid in some way, I will ask.”

This seemed to appease them as they smiled. Then Juliet took a half-step in and whispered, “Laurence. Does he hurt you? If he does, Annabel and I will march right over to Camellia Estates and shoot him!”

Isabel gaped at her younger sister. “Never say such things about him,” she said with a shake to her head. “He is a good man and would never hurt me.”

As the last words left her lips, a feeling came over Isabel, a near-peace she had not known was there. In her heart, at that moment, she realized that she had spoken the truth; Laurence would never hurt her, and that realization somehow made the day a bit brighter.

“I am sorry,” Juliet said with her head bowed. “I have heard rumors of men who strike their wives, and I did not want you to be in such a situation.”

Isabel hugged Juliet, and then Hannah and Annabel insisted on another hug, as well.

Soon, they were all talking and sharing in what they had been doing since Isabel had last visited, and by the time the circle broke, Isabel’s heart had lightened significantly.

When the girls returned to the house and whatever activities they had planned for the day, Isabel continued her walk through the garden. As she neared a flowerbed filled with a variety of roses, she looked toward the direction of Camellia Estates. Perhaps she had been wrong to leave as she did, or maybe she should have told Laurence the truth about how she was feeling.

And, like many times in her life, Isabel could not unravel the confusion that had turned her life on its head.

***

Laurence entered the ballroom just as he had many times before; however, this time Isabel would not join him. His footsteps, although not particularly loud, echoed in the empty room, now left emptier by her absence. He had grown accustomed to her sitting beside him, even if they did not speak to one another, and that only made the room that much more vacuous.

He turned and studied the row of unfinished canvases that lined the wall. Half-finished paintings of landscapes, various animals that lacked tails or manes, all incomplete. When Isabel had agreed to join him in painting lessons, he had been overjoyed, and during their time together, they had bonded, sharing in stories and laughter with each stroke of the brush.

He had hoped that she would soon care for him as he cared for her, but that dream came to a sudden end. Their argument the previous day still weighed heavy in the air. He regretted that he had grown angry when she informed him that she no longer wished to remain at Camellia Estates, but her words about Harriet concerned him more. Laurence had requested that his own sister leave, and he had done so for Isabel.

That made him pause, for Isabel’s words returned. What had been his true motivation for asking Harriet to leave? Had he done it for his wife or was there another reason?

Frustrated, he sat on his stool and stared at the empty canvas as images of Harriet came to his mind. The years of belittling he had endured from her. Her propensity to hang the guilt of their parents’ death over him. And he had welcomed that guilt as easily as a lamb suckled its mother’s teat, for he believed it was his burden to bear. However, was that burden truly his?

Releasing a sigh, he stood and then groaned as pain shot through his leg. Would this pain never leave? No, it would not, for it was a more constant reminder of the burden he carried, his reward for the part he played in the death of his parents.

He walked over to the painting of his parents and stood before it. Memories flooded back of that fateful day, and closing his eyes, he hoped to shut them out. However, they returned in his mind’s eye, and his heart turned to lead.

“Have I not suffered enough?” he whispered. When he opened his eyes, his mother’s smile greeted him, as did his that of his father. Their look held no grudge. Instead, their faces held peace. And was that forgiveness?

No, not forgiveness but something else, something he could not name, which only increased his frustration.

“Laurence.”

The whisper made him jump, and he turned hoping that Isabel had decided to return early. However, it was not Isabel who stood at the door but his sister.

“Harriet?” he asked as the woman slowly approached. Something was different about her. Where she always held her nose high so she could look down upon everyone else around her, she now hung her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I realize I am not welcome,” she said, her voice unusually soft. “However, it is imperative I speak with you.”

Then he saw the redness in her eyes, as if she had cried recently. Never had he seen his sister so distressed.

“Please, come in,” he said as he returned his gaze to the portrait.

“I miss them,” Harriet said as she stood beside him. “For so long, their deaths have haunted me.” She turned to face him. “I could not grasp that they had left us.” To add to his confusion, tears rolled down her cheeks. This was not the Harriet he knew, and he could not help but wonder if it was a ruse. “Ambrose and I had an argument.”

So, the perfect marriage is not so perfect after all, he thought, but he found that it did not give him as much pleasure as he would have expected. Instead, he felt pity for his sister. “I am very sorry to hear this.”

She snorted. “There is no need to be. What he said was extremely hurtful, but that is not the worst of it.”

“Oh?” Laurence asked.

“No. We…that is, I discussed having children, and he told me he did not wish to have any.”

Laurence could not stop his jaw from dropping. A man who did not want children? And a marquess to boot? That was unheard of.

“And do you know why?” she asked, that same quiet tone in her voice. What he would have expected was anger and resentment, but he heard no traces of either.

“I cannot imagine why. He is a good man, and I know he loves you as you love him.”

Harriet nodded. “That is true; we do love one another.” She wiped at her eyes before lowering her head once again. “But his reasoning is sound.”

“And what reason is that?”

She sighed. “He fears bringing a child into a world that would be as cruel-hearted as their mother.” With this, she began to sob into her gloved hands. She took the kerchief Laurence offered her and wiped her nose. “At first, I was angry. I collected my things and returned to Margaret’s house. Then I wrote Ambrose a letter much like the one I had written to you. I demanded an apology for him treating me so horribly.”

“I am sorry,” Laurence said.

“No,” Harriet said with an avid shake to her head. “Do you not understand? Ambrose was right! I am cruel. To the servants, to my friends, to my husband, and even…to my own brother.”

The suspicions Laurence had felt upon her sudden arrival now dissipated. Never before had he seen his sister in such a state, and to hear her speak so freely and honestly astounded him.

“When they left us,” she continued as she looked up at their parents’ portrait, “I was shocked and did not understand the gravity of death. What it meant for us and how it would change our lives. I refused to accept they were gone. Therefore, in that hurt and grief, I attempted to place blame for their deaths. I blamed you, my brother, who did no wrong. My brother who wrote to me whenever he was away at school and did his best to encourage me.”

“It was because I have always cared for you,” he said. “I still do.”

“I understand that now,” she said as she turned to him and gave him a weak smile. “I know now what I became over the years, and I do not like that woman. Therefore, I ask…no, I beg your forgiveness. The old Harriet is now gone, and the new one wishes that you accept her apology so we can be the siblings we are meant to be.”

Laurence did not hesitate as he pulled Harriet into his arms. As he embraced her, she sobbed into his shoulder. “I am so sorry,” she whispered. “You are not responsible for the death of our parents; you never were.”

Those words left him with such a sense of relief, he thought he would rise from the floor. For years, she had ridiculed him, blamed him, hated him, and for years, he did what he could to appease her, to no avail. At least one of them no longer believed him guilty.

“Thank you,” he replied. “You are my sister, and I love you. You are welcome at Camellia Estates at any time.” He sighed. “I look forward to our new relationship.”

“As do I.” She paused. “I have one more request before I return to settle things with Ambrose.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied. “What do you need?”

“Isabel. My words and actions were so cruel toward her. I must apologize and seek her forgiveness, as well.”

Laurence sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Isabel is not here,” he replied. “And I am afraid she will never return.”