by Martha Keyes
"I find it interesting," Cecilia said as Isabel placed a hand on the doorknob, "that you are so well-acquainted with Lord Brockway's sentiments."
Isabel turned to face her, but Cecilia still had her back to her. She was applying some of her Alkanet powder to her cheeks. It matched perfectly with the pink of the riband.
"Perhaps,” she said, “you are hoping that his suit with me fails so that you can set your cap at him."
Isabel opened her mouth to reply but was cut off.
"Just like you've set your cap at Mr. Galbraith."
Isabel's mouth clamped shut, and she felt her face warm up. How could she explain to Cecilia what was afoot? Particularly when her own feelings were engaged?
"Is that why you've been so cross with me the past few days? Because of Charles?"
Cecily turned around, her eyebrows raised. "Charles?"
Isabel brought her hands together in front of her mouth and sighed. "It is not what you imagine it to be."
"Then why did you not tell me that it was Mr. Galbraith who was Father's guest that night?"
Isabel took her lips between her teeth, and she brought her shoulders up with a breath. "Because it was nothing."
Cecilia stood. "Don't be ridiculous, Izzy. I've seen the way you look at him. Anyone can see you’re half-mad for him. I might have guessed you would try to take him from me. Him and Brockway!"
Isabel stood stunned. "Take him from you?" She put her hands out and then dropped them. "You don't even know him, Cecy, beyond an introduction. How could I—or anyone—take him from you when he's never been yours?"
She put on her glove agitatedly. "You know what I mean, Izzy. You've heard me speak of him, and you couldn't bear to watch me make him fall in love with me."
Isabel rubbed her forehead with a hand. "This is what I mean, Cecy. How can you speak like that? 'Make him fall in love with you?'” Isabel scoffed, struggling to believe that her sister could sincerely be saying such things. “What a silly thing to say. Besides, he is in love with Julia Darling."
A pugnacious light came into Cecilia's eyes. She folded her arms. "You doubt that I can make him fall in love with me?"
Isabel's brows snapped together, and she swallowed. Did she believe Cecilia could make Charles love her? "I think, Cecy," she said slowly, "that you will have no suitors left if you speak of them so cavalierly. Lord Brockway will only be the first to abandon his suit."
Cecilia’s brows flew up. "That sounds like a challenge."
Isabel drew back. There was no talking to Cecilia in this mood. What had happened to bring about such a combative over-confidence, she didn't know. But it troubled her to hear and see.
"I shall prove it to you."
Isabel let out a large breath, closed her eyes, and put her head back. She didn't lose her patience very often, but Cecilia was goading her beyond endurance. "However shall you do that, Cecilia?"
She patted her hair and stared at Isabel. "Quite easily, I think. I'd venture to say that I could do it even in the presence of you or Julia Darling."
"Listen to yourself, Cecilia. Your arrogance is astounding, but more than that, it is distasteful. This is not the sister I know. You do not have to make a conquest of all the gentlemen in London to matter, you know." She shook her head and turned the doorknob.
Cecilia's lids fluttered a few times, the first evidence that any of Isabel's words had struck a chord. But it wasn't enough. Cecilia's jaw seemed to harden, and her smile became brittle. "I have just the plan. We shall all go on an outing together. Then you shall see."
Isabel turned back toward the door, pausing as she opened it. She didn't even turn back toward Cecilia as she said, "You have nothing to prove to anyone, Cecy." She closed the door quietly behind her.
14
Isabel fiddled with the reins in her hands. She had greatly debated whether to join the group on their outing to Mr. Prescott's. In the end, she had decided in the affirmative, if only to be able to inform her father that Charles would accompany her on the outing. He had seemed pleased upon learning of the plans, sending her an impish look and putting a finger to his lips.
“I won’t tell a soul,” he had said, as if they were complicit in some mischief.
Isabel’s frustration with her sister had lightened somewhat after hearing from Mary that no fewer than three of Cecilia’s suitors had abandoned her for the newly-arrived Miss Austin. She wished that she could help Cecilia see how little such things mattered. But it was a realization she would have to arrive at in her own time, however painful it was for Isabel to watch.
"Stop fidgeting, for heaven's sake, Izzy," Cecilia said. "You are making Arrow nervous."
Isabel’s horse pawed the ground, his ears swiveling from back to front to side. She put a calming hand on his neck. "Oh," she said suddenly, "I meant to tell you that I invited Mary."
"What?” Cecilia frowned. “Why?"
"Cecilia, surely you realize that you invited a group which consists of only five people. And between you and Miss Darling, I anticipate that Lord Brockway and Charles will be rather taken up. So, I invited Mary to make it an even six."
Cecilia made a noncommittal noise. She never liked her plans to be interfered with.
"Did you tell those you invited who else would make up our party?"
Cecilia's eyes grew mischievous. "No, just that it would be a small, intimate group."
"I am surprised anyone agreed to come."
"I am not,” Cecilia said, ever confident. “I knew no one would be able to refuse a visit to Mr. Prescott's. Everyone is hoping for a peek at the animals before the grand opening in a few weeks."
Isabel watched her sister with a considering gaze. "How did you manage an invitation? I didn't even know you knew the man."
Cecilia only laughed. "I only met him the other night at the opera." She adjusted one of her gloves. "But he extended the kindest invitation, insisting I should feel free to visit any day this week."
Isabel's eyes narrowed. "Is he expecting our group, then? Or just you?" She had heard enough of Mr. Prescott to know that he had a reputation for being shockingly forward.
Cecilia's hands went still in the act of adjusting her other glove. "Surely you don't believe me so vulgar as to go alone? Besides, Mr. Prescott isn't even there. He is traveling to Algiers. Apparently, there is a panther he is desperate to add to his collection."
Isabel's shoulders lowered, and she let out a small breath of relief. She had been wondering whether Cecilia's recent cavalier attitude was perhaps a precursor to—or even a symptom of—indiscretion.
"Ah," Cecilia said, raising a hand to wave. "Mr. Galbraith and Miss Darling. Arriving together." She said the last word as if she had been extended a challenge.
Isabel felt her throat constrict as she spotted the two approaching on horseback, trailed by a young woman Isabel could only assume was Miss Darling's maid. How they had come to arrive together was a mystery to her. It boded well for Charles, though, surely.
Their plan must be working better even than Isabel had known. Miss Darling threw her head back, and Isabel could hear the musical sound of her laugh even at a distance. Mr. Galbraith's responsive grin made Isabel's stomach feel heavy and yet, somehow, hollow. She turned, unwilling to watch the interaction longer than needed.
She reminded herself of her two objectives for the day: to continue fostering a reconciliation between Miss Darling and Charles, and, as much as it was possible, to protect Cecilia from herself. It was unlikely to be an enjoyable day. But perhaps the silver lining would be seeing the animals Mr. Prescott had acquired.
However the day transpired, she vowed to put on a pleasant face and do her best to enjoy herself. She refused to cut a pathetic figure in front of Charles and Miss Darling, especially.
She sat straighter and smiled as they approached and then came to a halt.
Cecilia greeted them with her wide smile.
"I admit," said Mr. Galbraith, "that I was somewhat perplexed when I received your in
vitation. I had no idea who to expect. When I happened upon Julia just down the road, we were surprised to discover we shared a destination."
Isabel could only imagine that he would have been surprised. He barely knew Cecilia, after all. For her to have sent him an invitation at all was presumptuous, bordering on brazen. She likely owed his acceptance of the invitation to the assumption that Isabel would at least be present.
"Indeed," Miss Darling said, extending a hand to Cecilia, "thank you for the invitation. I have been waiting very patiently for the menagerie opening, but they seem to put it off time and again."
Cecilia smiled and turned toward Isabel. "You and Mr. Galbraith are already well acquainted, I know."
She shot Isabel a challenging glance, and Isabel met Charles's eyes briefly. He smiled at her, and she swallowed amidst her own smile. Would his smile ever stop affecting her?
"But," continued Cecilia, "I don't believe you and Miss Darling are acquainted. Miss Darling, this is my sister, Miss Isabel Cosgrove."
Miss Darling smiled, but the effect was rendered less amiable by the way she held her head high, looking down her petite nose at Isabel.
"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Darling," Isabel said, curtsying.
Miss Darling inclined her head. Was there a small gleam of malice in her eyes?
"When do we leave?" Miss Darling asked Cecilia, arranging her skirts.
Isabel gripped her lips together, brushing off a feeling of embarrassment at Miss Darling’s cool response. Whether she was doing it intentionally or not, Miss Darling had a way of making one feel small. She glanced at Charles. He was looking at Miss Darling, eyes pinched slightly.
Cecilia called attention to Lord Brockway who was approaching. He was acquainted with all members of the group, as was Mary whose arrival followed shortly thereafter, so it was only a matter of minutes before they were on their way toward Prescott Place.
The route passed through the park, crowded with riders and carriages, then continued northwest toward Wesborn Green.
Isabel couldn't help but smile ruefully on behalf of her sister. Mary had managed to address a remark to Cecilia just as the group was departing, leaving Lord Brockway to ride next to Isabel. They were preceded by Miss Darling and Mr. Galbraith, with Mary and Cecilia leading the group. Cecilia shifted in her saddle frequently, glancing back at the other four in the group. How she intended to monopolize both gentlemen would be equally amusing and painful to watch.
Isabel looked at Lord Brockway. "How have you fared since I saw you last, my lord?"
He had been staring at the space between his horse's ears but looked up as she addressed him. He looked to be in much better spirits than when she had seen him at the church. "Quite well, thank you.” He lowered his voice and glanced at Cecilia up ahead. “I have been trying to follow your advice."
"And?"
"I don't know, to be honest." He placed a hand on his thigh, leaving the reins in the other hand. "It went against my custom very much, but I refrained from asking her to dance until the very end of the evening last night—a fact which she pointed out as we danced. But I found that there were plenty of ladies in need of partners. In fact, I was able to make the acquaintance of a shy but delightful young woman who only recently moved here from Ireland. I was able to bring her out of her shell by drawing on my own experiences there."
Had Cecilia noticed Lord Brockway's interaction with the young woman he spoke of? If Isabel's own warning to her sister hadn't done the trick, perhaps seeing Lord Brockway pay attention to other young women could. Perhaps that was what had put her out enough to cause the strange and brash behavior in her dressing room the other night.
Lord Brockway recounted some of his experiences in Ireland as they continued riding, and Isabel listened with interest. She had always wished to travel outside of England. She was grateful that Lord Brockway was an interesting riding companion since she only thought to look up at Charles and Miss Darling a few times. Each time, she vowed not to repeat the experience.
Prescott Place was a grand estate, set on sprawling acres of green fields. The building boasted a Tudor-style exterior of red sandstone, punctuated by half-timbering. A number of liveried servants awaited them at the gravel courtyard, one of whom invited them to dismount and leave their horses with the other servants.
“Good day to you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “Am I correct in assuming that you are Miss Cecilia Cosgrove?” He directed his gaze at Cecilia who inclined her head. “Mr. Prescott informed me that I should be expecting you and your party. My name is John Sweeney, and I will have the pleasure of taking care of you today. Please, if you would, follow me.”
The group followed behind him, taking a path around the side of the house. As they turned the corner, a grand building, separate from the main house appeared. Two large wooden doors concealed the interior, and on each side stood a liveried servant. A muffled din could be heard from within.
Sweeney stopped just short of the doors, turning to the group, his hands clasped behind his back. "Welcome to Prescott's Grand Menagerie." He indicated the doors with a sweeping gesture of one hand. "The animals contained in the menagerie come from all corners of the earth."
Miss Darling leaned in toward Charles, whispering something in his ear and coming away laughing. Isabel didn't let her eyes linger to watch Charles's reaction.
Sweeney stood stone-faced. "All the creatures are beautiful, many are fierce, and some are deadly. A few you are permitted to feed. You will find containers with food beside those cages. Do not attempt to feed any of the animals whose cages do not include these containers." He nodded to the two servants, and they turned to grip the large, iron handles.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Sweeney continued, "prepare yourselves to leave London behind and enter a different world."
The servants threw open the doors, and a cacophony of animal sounds met Isabel’s ears. Warm air whooshed past them, along with a pungent odor.
Miss Darling had been speaking with Charles but whipped around at the sound. She wrinkled her nose and then plugged it. "What an awful stench!"
Isabel met eyes with Charles, and his half-smile appeared. "Ahh, the smell of adventure." He took in a deep breath, wafting the air toward his nose, and began coughing.
"You are so strange, Charles," Miss Darling said, leaning away as he coughed.
Charles sent Isabel a teasing glance. Cecilia moved to his side.
"I hope you don't mind," she said to him with what Isabel recognized as false timidity, "but I have heard terrible things about some of the creatures here, and I think it wise to go in with the protection of a strong gentleman."
One of Charles's eyebrows went up, and his mouth fell open only to clamp shut again. He proffered his arm and said, "I don't know that I am a match for any of these animals, but I am happy to oblige if it will help you feel more at ease." He shot a glance at Isabel, and she raised her brows in an enigmatic response. Somehow, she felt sure that Charles would see past Cecilia’s excuses. He would not be so easy for the taking as Cecilia had assumed.
The group walked slowly into the building. The interior contained a long walkway, lined by tall, arched cages with bars of iron. Just outside of the cages sat potted trees, and the ceiling had been painted to resemble the sky. Every head turned toward the first cage which appeared on their left: a Bengal tiger sleeping next to a bowl of water. A silver plaque hung next to the cage, and Isabel walked over to it. It contained information about the animal, its name, and its origins.
Miss Darling gasped as Isabel approached it.
Cecilia jumped at the sound. "What is wrong?"
"I can't think it wise to approach so closely," Miss Darling said, looking at Isabel. "It is a wild beast, after all."
"It is not wild right now,” Isabel said, her eyes not leaving the plaque. “Only a sleeping beast whose name is Rainier. He is just two years old."
Charles came up beside her, and she felt his arm rest against hers as
he read the plaque. Her arm tingled, and she moved to give him more space, trying not to pay attention to the way her arm suddenly felt bare.
"His mother died in the wild," Charles said. "Poor little chap."
A large roar sounded, and Isabel jumped in terror, grabbing onto Charles's arm and burying her face in it. Her heart pummeled her chest. She looked toward the sound's origin. The lion in the next cage over prowled from side to side, watching the group with a baleful glare.
She could hear Charles's breath coming as quickly as her own.
He placed a hand over hers, which were still wrapped tightly around his arm, and pulled her back away from the cage. "I don't think he fancies us."
Isabel laughed shakily and released his arm. She glanced at the imprint her fingers had left on his coat sleeve. "I apologize."
Charles's half-smile appeared as he looked down at her. "I didn't mind," he said softly.
She tried unsuccessfully to slow her heart.
"It seems I was right," Miss Darling's voice broke through. "Wild beasts after all. Aren't they, Miss Cosgrove?"
Isabel rubbed her shaking hands down her dress, hoping to still them. She moved away from Charles toward Mary. "Perhaps so." She glanced at Rainier the tiger. He was still sleeping. "I can't think any of us would be in good spirits, though, if we were taken from our homes and put in cages."
Charles's head tipped to the side, and he stepped over to the plaque in front of the lion's cage.
Cecilia moved toward him. "Well, I don't intend to take any chances. Mr. Galbraith has promised to protect me or else I think I should be tempted to leave." She looked at the lion, which was still prowling, and placed her hand on Charles's arm.
He gave no indication he had noticed, continuing to read the plaque about the lion.
Isabel bit her lip to stop a smile. "You must be very confident in Charles's protection indeed, Cecilia. Now that you've joined him, you are closer than ever to the beast."
Isabel glanced at Lord Brockway. He was standing straighter than usual, and she followed his gaze to Cecilia's arm, interlocked with Charles's. Cecilia would have to do better at splitting her attention if she meant to win Charles over while keeping Lord Brockway.
