“Kitty, do you know if Crawford Maguire is here today?”
“I should think so, Your Grace. He stayed last night, certainly, and I believe he is on some matter of business for His Grace. I have no doubt that you will find him in his study today, likely for the next few days if I know anything about it.”
“Oh, good,” Isabella said and felt suddenly that she would have some chance of getting answers.
“Forgive me, but is something troubling you?” Kitty spoke gently.
“It really is, Kitty. I am so worried about the Duke at the moment. He seems to have changed, to have retreated into his little world again. And the thing is, I am worried that he will not come out of his world anymore.”
“And you would miss him?”
“Kitty, I would miss him more than anything.”
“Then I think it is time that you told him as much,” Kitty said reticently.
“Do you really?”
“Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Your Grace.”
“No, Kitty, you must speak freely before me. Of all people, you must speak freely, for if you do not, how am I ever to know how to proceed?” Isabella felt tearful but was determined not to cry. “Nobody else speaks plainly to me here, Kitty. Least of all my husband.”
“I think if you do care for the Duke, you must tell him. It is what has been missing in his world for so many years. Yes, he has me to help him, but I am not in a position to outright say that I care. And as for Crawford Maguire, whilst his actions are most kindly, he is a friend and a man, and he cannot speak the same words. And from all you have told me, these are words that you have not heard a good deal of in your life. It is time that you and His Grace were open with one another. Forgive me, but I cannot help feeling that it is the only way to keep moving forward.”
“Not only do you know the Duke better than most, but it would seem that you know me better also. You have been a great comfort to me, Kitty, and I shall never forget it.”
“Now don’t you start weeping, Your Grace or I shall follow suit and will get nothing done today,” Kitty said and blinked hard.
“Oh, Kitty!” Isabella said and laughed and cried all at once.
“You must be brave, my dear.” Kitty suddenly took her hands in her own. “You must be brave enough to look upon his face and tell him everything that is in your heart. But you must do both of those things, not just one or the other. The Duke needs to hear all of it, and he needs to know that it is true.”
“And I will do it; I will tell him everything.”
“You will get used to his appearance in time. That is all that it takes, believe me.”
“I think I could more easily get used to his appearance than to his lack of presence. That, above all things, I cannot bear.”
“Then you must tell him.”
“I shall. But first, I shall speak with Crawford Maguire and see if he knows anything of the Duke’s curious mood at the moment. I ought to be armed with all the information, ought I not?”
“That sounds like a most sensible decision, Your Grace.” Kitty smiled approvingly.
Within the hour, Isabella had dressed and eaten a small breakfast, finding herself unable to eat as heartily as she ordinarily did first thing in the morning.
Determining that she would eat a little better at luncheon, Isabella hurriedly made her way to Crawford Maguire’s study and knocked the door.
As always, Crawford rose to his feet and opened the door himself and, seeing Isabella standing there, smiled warmly.
“Come in, Isabella. Do take a seat.” He ushered her into one of the armchairs by the fire.
“Thank you, Crawford,” Isabella said as she sat down.“Forgive me for intruding upon what looks to be a very busy morning.” Isabella turned to indicate a mountain of papers on Crawford’s desk.
“Not at all.” She could see Crawford’s expression become one of awkwardness as he regarded the papers.
In her heart, she knew the papers had something to do with her.
“Forgive me, Crawford, but whatever is happening, I must know.”
“I beg your pardon?” She knew he was playing for time.
“Crawford, I know that something has changed, although I do not know what it is. And yet I cannot help thinking that my husband came to see me last night to say goodbye. I know that will sound like a most curious assertion, but it is true, and I cannot think of another way to describe it.”
“Oh, Isabella.” Crawford let out a great sigh and looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“There really is something, is there not? Will you not tell me, Crawford? Honestly, I cannot manage with all this uncertainty and sadness.”
“Then you are sad, Isabella?”
“Of course, I am; of course, I am!” She instantly regretted her tone. “Forgive me, I did not mean to speak so sharply.”
“I cannot blame you for speaking so. It is clear to me now that you are suffering the most dreadful confusion, and I can do no other than seek to clear it for you.”
“I would be most grateful, Crawford. I am in the dark more often than my husband these days.”
“There is no easy way for me to tell you this, so I must just give you the facts. And please understand, Isabella, that I have tried my hardest to dissuade the Duke from this particular course of action.”
“What course of action?” Isabella began to feel afraid.
“The Duke has decided to seek an annulment of your marriage.”
“An annulment?” Isabella almost shrieked the word.
“Yes, I am afraid so.”
“But why? Why would he do such a thing to me? What have I done to deserve such treatment?”
“He seeks to do it in a manner in which you will not suffer, Isabella.”
“How could I not suffer? How could I be anything other than a pariah in society, cast out by my own husband?” Her hands were shaking violently, and she felt nauseous.
“He does not seek to achieve it in a manner which would have you cast out. That is why he has asked for my help; he needs to find a way in which it can be achieved without any harm to you whatsoever.”
“I do not understand.”
“There is a means of achieving it which would have no villain in the piece but your father.” Crawford looked down as if he had somehow betrayed her.
“My father? But how?” Isabella did not really need the details of the thing.
It was not the fear of having society turn their backs on her when her marriage was annulled. It was the pain and heartbreak that the only man she had ever truly loved would be the one to turn his back.
“There are not, as you know, many circumstances in which an annulment can be obtained,” Crawford began and seemed to be on firmer ground now that he was explaining the mechanics of it all. “Mental incompetence is one, of course, but not one that is advisable to pursue.”
“Good, because I am not mentally incompetent in any way!” Isabella felt defensive.
“Not you, Isabella. Elliot would never say such a thing about you. He initially meant to take that on himself, giving you the authority to claim it.”
“Well, I would never claim such a thing about Elliot either, so it will not work.”
“Not only that, but women who claim that their husbands are mentally incompetent do not fare very well in society. When I explained this to Elliot, he would not have it that way either. And so, we have fallen upon the idea of fraud.”
“Fraud?” Isabella was utterly dumbfounded.
“Which can be a number of things,” Crawford continued. “It could be a case of fraudulent identity.”
“But neither one of us has claimed an identity which is not our own.”
“Quite so. All that is left is to suggest that your father did not settle upon you in the sum that he had promised to before you were married to Elliot.”
“But there was no settlement from my father. He did not promise any money at all.”
“Which
is a most unusual set of circumstances, and one which would work in our favour. There is nothing formal by way of agreement between your father and Elliot, another point in our favour. It would be an easy thing for Elliot to claim that your father had promised a sum of money because he can prove that your father has never paid him ever. And in such circumstances, the marriage could be annulled on the case of fraud. The only person who would suffer for it would be your father. And only in terms of his reputation. And you would be well provided for. You would have money and property of your own which you father could not touch. Elliot is most firm upon that point.”
“Whilst I cannot claim to care very much what becomes of my father and his reputation, there is so much more to this that I can hardly begin.”
“I can see that, but why not try to tell me anyway,” Crawford said in such a kindly way.
It struck her greatly that he wanted the best for his friend, and that in doing so, what he wanted for Elliot and what Elliot wanted for himself were not always the same thing.
“I do not want my marriage annulled, Crawford. And believe me, it has nothing to do with the shame of it, especially since you claim that there would be none for either Elliot or myself to suffer. That is not my concern.”
“Then what is your concern, Isabella?”
“I did not wish to have my heart broken, Crawford. I do not wish to lose Elliot. I might not have chosen to be his wife initially, but I would not choose to be anywhere else now. If only I could find some way to make him see it. But, how can I? Now that he has chosen to dismiss me altogether, what is the point? I cannot tell him how I feel because it is clear now that he does not feel the same way.”
“I think it is quite the contrary, Isabella.”
“Then I would suggest that the evidence disproves your theory, Sir.”
“I do not think so. You see, Elliot cannot forgive himself for keeping you here. He thinks that by not going out into the world himself that he is keeping you from it.”
“I know all of this; he has told me this already, and I have told him that it is not the case. I have tried to tell him that I am quite content, and yet he will not hear it.”
“If I am honest, I think that that is only a very small part of it, Isabella.” Crawford looked awkward as if he was about to betray a confidence.
“What do you mean?”
“He has not told me so, but I truly think that Elliot thinks that you could never look upon him and love him.”
“But that is not true. I do love him,” Isabella said miserably.
“I do not doubt that you love him, Isabella. But you must ask yourself this; would you still love him if you looked upon him properly? If you looked upon him fully as you did that day in the chapel when you first met, would you still love him?”
Chapter 31
Isabella had spent the rest of the day in turmoil. She had not been able to answer Crawford’s question in the end, even though she knew in her heart that she loved Elliot more than any person on earth. But she had not looked on him fully, and she knew it.
In truth, it had much to do with Elliot and his determination to hide away from her. But she had not pushed the issue for a moment, telling herself that she did not want to force him to reveal things he did not wish to reveal.
She told herself the story that it was all for his own comfort, his own peace of mind, and she had been made content by that story. She had told it to herself so many times that she had come to believe it.
The worst of it all was that she knew she no longer had any time. She had assumed, once married, they would be married forever. If it took a year or two years to come to terms with his appearance, then there would be no harm done. And if it took him equally as long to forgive himself for the manner of their matrimony, then all would be well. There had been time; there had always been time.
But there was no time now. She knew, of course, that an annulment would take time, but not so long that Elliot could not hide away from her throughout. He was like a ghost to her at times, a phantom who appeared only in the dusk, seen only in the daylight from a distance or by chance. At times, he was not even real.
Oh, but he was real. And her love for him was real, she knew it. In the end, there would be nothing for it but to tell him everything that was in her heart, including all her fears. And she would look upon him as she did so, she must. Kitty had been right in that at least, and so had Esme. Elliot needed to know that she could look upon him and still love him. And not only did Elliot need to know it, but Isabella needed to know it too.
Despite having so light a breakfast, Isabella had not managed to eat anything else for the rest of the day. She had foregone luncheon, afternoon tea, and finally, dinner. She had wandered from place to place looking for him, determined to find him and stand face to face in the daylight.
She had tried his study, the library, even the ballroom. She had searched the entire ground floor of Coldwell Hall to no avail.
In the end, she had made her way upstairs and boldly marched towards the room that she had crept inside only twice before. When she reached his chamber, she knocked harshly before entering in a most abrupt manner. She looked into the room and could see only the doll on the chair and the picture of the lovely young Eleanor looking back at her. Of Elliot Covington, there was no sign.
It was only when dusk had fallen that she thought of the tower. But surely, he would not be there in the darkness, would he? He did tell her that he walked the grounds extensively, covering mile upon mile every week. But he did not do that in the dark, she felt sure. Ordinarily, he would be making himself ready for the evening meeting, even at that moment walking down the stairs with his violin ready to enjoy himself.
When she could find him nowhere, Isabella began to grow desperate. She knew she had to find him; she had to tell him now how she felt. Throwing her shawl around her shoulders and lighting one of the oil lamps, she raced out into the darkness, heading for the tower.
The trees seemed black and foreboding at that time of night; the woodland no longer pretty or welcoming; no birdsong to keep her mind off her fear. She imagined noises everywhere, sighs and groans and the snapping of dry twigs as footsteps followed her.
She knew, of course, that she heard nothing of the sort, and that it was her mind playing tricks upon her.
By the time Isabella reached the tower, her hands were shaking violently. She had worked herself up into a most dreadful state of fear, and it was a fear that only grew as the dark shape of the tower loomed large before her.
Isabella squinted, seeing no light coming from within. If Elliot was in, he was alone and in darkness. It did not make any sense, and yet she knew she had to know for sure; she had to look for herself.
She pulled the door towards her, and it seemed to groan in a way that she had not noticed by daylight. Perhaps her senses were keener in the dark.
“Elliot?” she called tentatively into the silence.
When the silence did not return her greeting, she shuffled into the ground floor room, careful not to catch herself on any of the debris left by the fire. The lamp shone an eerie pale light around the room, casting long shadows which made her shudder. There was no sign of him.
Lords to Be Enamored With: A Historical Regency Romance Collection Page 26
