Isabel paid her mother a visit early the next morning, while she was still abed.
“Good morning, my dear.” Her mama looked up from the book she was reading, her eyes twinkling. “Have you recovered your equilibrium?”
Isabel studied her parent warily, before taking a seat in the armchair near the window. “My equilibrium?”
“Mmmm. You looked decidedly put out last night while you were playing the pianoforte. Did Mr Bateman say something to vex you?”
Isabel crossed her arms. “When does he not vex me? He is an insufferable man.”
Her mother chuckled. “He sang Lord Bateman very well.”
“The man does everything well,” she said bitterly. “He can cook, he can act, he can sing, he can deliver calves.”
“Deliver calves?”
“Mr Bateman delivered a calf in the breech position the other night. I assisted him.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Isabel Jane – you were alone with a gentleman in the dark? Unchaperoned?”
“Someone had to hold the lantern in the cow shed.”
“Indeed!”
“I thought you would be horrified.”
“Never that, my dear. I trust your good judgement, and if you believed Mr Bateman needed your assistance, it was wise to disregard the conventions in this instance.”
Isabel shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I would not call it wise precisely.”
“So he made an attempt on your virtue?”
“Mama!”
Her mother laughed. “I see that he did. I’m not surprised. No red-blooded male would pass up such a perfect opportunity to kiss a pretty girl.” Her face settled into more serious lines. “It was only a kiss?”
Isabel nodded.
“Well, then, there’s no harm done. Besides, it may be a good thing. You are like the Sleeping Beauty from the Brothers Grimm fairy tale, who slept for a hundred years before a prince awoke her from her slumber with a kiss.”
“He is not a prince! He is more like a frog.”
Her mother laughed. “Well, he certainly was a convincing Frog the other evening, when he dressed up and came to the dining room.”
“Mama! You know what I mean.”
Her mother settled back against her cushions. “Indeed, I do. But do not be too quick to judge him based on his reputation. Lady Kildaren told me the other evening he had been severely maligned as a young man.”
“I know. He told me the story himself.”
“Well then, why not give him a chance? He appears to like you very well. You can see that when he looks at you.”
“I have other reservations about him, Mama. Besides, you know I have vowed never to marry again.”
Her mother smoothed the bedspread and studied it for a moment. “I hope you know, my love, that your papa’s actions in marrying you off to Axbridge were not supported by me. I would never have wished for a marriage in name only for my daughter.”
“I know that, Mama. You could not go against Papa’s wishes. I understood that.” She grimaced. “It was strange that Axbridge wanted to marry me after he suffered that stroke. I was never a – a real wife to him.”
“It lifted his spirits to have a beautiful young girl installed in his home when he was unwell.”
“Indeed. A pretty decoration,” she said in a brittle voice.
“That is why I hope you will grasp happiness with both hands if it comes your way again. Life does not often give one second chances. You are still young enough to marry again – to love and be loved… to not just be a pretty decoration in someone’s home.”
“But if I marry again, then I will have to submit to the rule of my husband. I am not inclined to put myself in that position again.”
“But not all men want to rule their wives, my dear!”
“Papa did.”
Her mother sighed. “Cousin George does not, however. If I can take a chance on marriage again, then why shouldn’t you?”
“Mama! Pray tell! Has Cousin George proposed?”
Her mother’s cheeks pinkened. “He has, my dear. We do not plan to announce our betrothal, though, until the snow has thawed, and our guests have left Chernock Hall. We will be married in a month’s time in the village church after the Banns have been read.”
Isabel leapt from her chair and embraced her mother, kissing her on both cheeks. “I am so happy for you, Mama! What splendid news. Cousin George will make you a wonderful husband. When did he propose?”
“Last night – after everyone else had retired.”
Isabel smiled, but after a few moments, a furrow appeared between her brows. “But, Mama! How can I possibly accompany you to London now? You will wish to be alone, after your wedding. I must return to Axbridge Park forthwith.”
“No, indeed! That will not do at all. You see, Lord Fenmore supports Cousin George’s stance on campaigning for the end of slavery and has offered him a seat in Parliament – one of his rotten boroughs. Parliament opens in November, and I will welcome your company in Town as Cousin George will be very busy with Parliamentary affairs.”
“Oh, I see!” Isabel’s frown lifted. “I am delighted Cousin George will be petitioning for the end of slavery. He is very dedicated to the cause. I wish that Mr Bateman shared his dedication – however, he does not shun the company of the Wetherbys. In fact, he appears to seek them out.”
Her mother sat up in her bed. “I am sure Mr Bateman is merely being polite to the Wetherbys, my dear. He and Cousin George witnessed a terrible incident when they travelled to the Caribbean a few years ago, and I know they are both very strongly opposed to slavery.”
“Well, Mr Bateman has a strange way of showing it! What was this incident?”
“It is not my story to relay, my dear. Perhaps Cousin George will tell you about it one day.”
The silence stretched between them and her mother frowned. “You have always been one to wear your heart on your sleeve, my love. Do not judge others based on how you would behave in a particular circumstance. Good manners dictate that Mr Bateman acknowledges the Wetherbys in his host’s home. To do otherwise, would be in very poor form. Particularly as Cousin George is finding it increasingly difficult to behave politely towards them, and has taken to avoiding their company! He is very much like you in that regard, my dear – he wears his heart on his sleeve as well. I believe Mr Bateman is merely papering over the cracks by being polite to them.”
“He said something similar to me the other day.”
“Well then, my dear, you see how it is.”
Isabel nodded. “I had better find out if Monsieur Martin requires my help in the kitchen today. The under-cook is still unwell.”
She kissed her mother on her cheek again, and squeezed her hands, before leaving the room. However, when she reached the hall, she remembered she had wanted a particular book from the library, so instead of walking to the servants’ entrance in the hall, she made her way to the library and opened the door.
She stood stock still. Lord Fenmore and Miss Hamilton were locked in a passionate embrace in the middle of that grand apartment. She had not expected to see anyone in the library at this early hour of the morning. Clearly the betrothed couple had thought the same thing and had decided to steal some time alone. Her stomach clenched into a knot at the unexpectedness of the amorous tableau before her, and she struggled to breathe.
Without a word, Isabel exited the library and headed for the servants’ entrance. She had just reached the hidden door when Mr Bateman stepped out of the Little Parlour, situated to the side of the hall. He took one look at her face, and drew her into the small reception room.
“What is the matter, my dear?”
“N-nothing!” And she burst into tears.
He pulled her into his arms, and let her weep all over his superfine coat. After she had snorted and gulped for a few minutes, he pulled out a white handkerchief, and, pushing her away from him, mopped her cheeks and eyes.
“Come now, my dear. What has so overset you?”
“I – I walked into the library, and I saw Lord Fenmore em-embracing Miss Hamilton.”
“Ah,” he said.
“I – I did not believe that I would react so. In fact, I was well on the way to believing I had accepted their engagement with equanimity.”
She gave a shuddering breath, and Mr Bateman pulled her back into his arms. He sighed into her hair, and she stood up straighter. “I – I’m sorry, sir. I had no intention of weeping all over you. I am not, in general, a watering pot. I think it is just the disappointment of – of lost hopes and dreams. It is not easy to give them up.”
“It is far better to be disappointed in love, than never to love.”
“Mary Wollstonecraft?”
“Indeed.”
Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then Isabel took a careful step back. Withdrawing from his embrace, however, left her strangely bereft.
“I – I will see you in the kitchen,” she said, before rushing out of the room, as though the hounds of hell were on her back. In his arms, she had felt completely at home, as if they were a safe haven that could protect her from the cares of the world.
How could she be so fickle as to mourn the loss of an old love the one moment and yearn to be held close in the arms of another man the next? It just went to show how emotions could not be relied upon when it came to ordering one’s life. If she were foolish enough to trust her ever-changing feelings in regard to making important decisions, she would suffer immensely. Reason must be her yardstick. And reason dictated that she keep her life free from romantic entanglements.
Besides, she had other fish to fry when she arrived in London. The Abolition of the Slave Trade Act had been passed in 1807, but the movement to abolish slavery had suffered since England had been at war with France. Now that her cousin was petitioning against slavery on a public platform, she could focus again on her anti-slavery writings, and do all she could to assist the campaign.
As a young woman, her mother had been a subscriber to one of the provincial committees of the Abolition Society, and Isabel had grown up without consuming sugar due to her mother’s activism. She would make Cousin George a perfect wife.
It was a pity, however, that her mama would not accept that married life was not for everyone. To have even suggested that Isabel should give Mr Bateman a chance was nonsensical. Her mother’s lapse in judgement must be due to the fact that as a soon-to-be married lady, she wished the same state for her daughter. But marriage was not for her. It was a frightening trap and she would never be imprisoned in it again.