by Martha Keyes
Mary stepped up toward the tiger's cage, wrapping her hands around the bars as she stared at the animal. "You know, I have heard it said that the animals can smell fear." She looked over at Cecilia with a provoking arch to her brows.
"Well," Miss Darling said, adjusting the reticule draped over her wrist, "I am not afraid of the beasts. I simply have no desire to return home smelling like them."
Lord Brockway walked ahead, and Isabel followed suit. There were plenty of animals yet to see, and she had no desire to spar with Miss Darling or watch Cecilia make a fool of herself.
"My lord?" she called out.
Lord Brockway stopped and turned toward her. He tapped the top of his cane with his finger, pursing his lips.
"Are you well?"
He offered his arm to her, and she took it. "I am," he said. "Today has already been enlightening."
"How is that?"
He turned them toward a cage, and they approached it. Two foxes stood watching them, ears pricked up.
"Only that I feel I am beginning to better understand your sister." He paused, staring at the foxes as they lowered their heads to drink from their water bowl. "Perhaps I have simply been resisting the truth until now."
Isabel heaved a great sigh. "I can only say that I am sorry. Her behavior recently has been disheartening. I believe that Cecilia will find herself in time. I fear that she will experience a rude awakening which, while it will be painful to observe, may prove a catalyst to change. But I could never counsel you to wait for that to happen. Perhaps losing you will even act as that catalyst."
"Well," he said, lifting his cane and then bringing it down on the floor with a small smack, "in any case, I feel it would be unwise for me to hold out hope at this point. I haven't given up entirely, but I feel free to focus my energies elsewhere in the meantime." He brought up his head, and a smile grew on his face. "Strangely, I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders even as I say that."
Isabel patted his arm lightly and smiled.
Inside, though, she felt a desire to shake sense into her sister. She was happy for Lord Brockway. There was no guarantee that Cecilia would see reason, after all. Particularly if recent history was any indicator.
Lord Brockway deserved to be happy now rather than in some potential future with a changed Cecilia.
But the development had the potential to complicate Isabel's situation significantly. How could she appease her father without marrying Mr. Galbraith when Cecilia seemed bound and determined to sabotage her own chances at a great match?
15
Charles Galbraith turned to locate Isabel and Lord Brockway. They stood together, Isabel’s hand on his arm, in front of a cage of foxes.
Julia's head twisted around, following his gaze. "Yes," she said, "those two look quite cozy, don't they?"
He turned his head to look at Julia. What did she mean?
She wagged her brows and then laughed, tucking her arm into his.
He forced a chuckle, shooting another quick glance at Isabel. She was smiling at Lord Brockway.
Had Charles been blind? He hadn't thought a thing of it to see the two of them standing together, but Julia had. It made no sense, though. Hadn't Isabel intended Lord Brockway for Cecilia? Yes, there was no doubt of that. It had been her escape plan—escape from a marriage to Charles.
The fact that she desired to concoct an alternative had been a welcome surprise to Charles at first. But as he came to know Isabel better, anytime she brought up the subject of avoiding their marriage, it rankled. Would it be so awful to be married to him?
Julia's arm tugged him forward toward the next cage. "You've been very neglectful of late, Charles," she said.
"Have I?"
"Yes. I've been missing the conversations we used to have back at home. I feel I hardly know you anymore."
He missed the conversations, too. He missed everything about that time. Sitting with Julia on the dock of the pond, skipping rocks on the water.
"Those were very happy days, weren't they?" he said with a nostalgic crook to his mouth.
"Canoeing in the pond last summer?"
He chuckled. "When you pushed me in? A whig of moss and the stench of frogs that lingered on my clothes for a week."
Julia threw back her head in that way which was so unique to her and laughed. "I warned you not to splash me with the oars."
"An honest mistake," he said, putting his free hand up in a gesture of defense.
"Perhaps the first time," she said. "But surely not five times?"
He grinned and hung his head in mock guilt. Suddenly he frowned. "Things have changed since then."
"Not I," Julia said.
Charles turned his head. Did she really think she hadn't changed?
She looked the same. That small ringlet which always hung behind her right ear. The same shade of pink tinging her cheeks. The dark lashes which framed those cornflower blue eyes he'd looked into a million times.
But no. Nothing else was the same.
"Oh!" Cecilia's cry broke in on their conversation. "Look at these creatures." She stood facing a cage farther down the walkway. She leaned forward toward the cage as if she wished to approach it but didn't dare.
Charles walked toward her, and his arm broke free from Julia's. Remembering their days at home in the country had been bittersweet. It seemed like a different lifetime—before he'd seen a new side of her.
Everyone in the group gathered in front of the cage. Inside were three small, black monkeys with white hair framing their curious faces.
"Colobus monkeys," Miss Holledge said, examining the plaque. "And we are permitted to feed them." She looked in the container attached to the wall.
Isabel went up beside her, peering in. "It looks like a mixture of seeds and berries."
"How fortunate." Charles came up beside her and reached a hand in. "I'm starving. Don’t mind if I do."
Isabel's head turned to him. She watched him with a dare in her eyes. “You wouldn’t!”
His lip twitched, but he met her gaze with a challenging look of his own. Keeping his eyes on her, he picked out a berry from his palm and tossed it into his mouth.
Her lips trembled as she tried to stifle a smile.
He never let his eyes waver from hers, chewing the dried berry with a gusto very much at odds with his true desire to spit out the bitter thing.
"How odd you are, Charles," said Julia from behind. “I hope you won’t fall ill.”
"And?" Isabel looked at him expectantly. "Was it everything you had hoped it would be?"
The muscles in his jaw tensed as he forced himself to swallow the berry. "Delectable. It has only whetted my appetite." He grabbed a second handful and offered her some.
"Really?" Isabel's eyes darted hesitantly from his outstretched hand to his eyes.
Charles laughed, dropping his hand. "No. It was terrible." He looked to the monkeys. "How can you eat this rot?" He stuck a hand through the iron bars, but the three monkeys only stared.
Isabel came up beside him, and he inhaled a refreshing waft of violets—a welcome change from what he could only assume was the scent of animal droppings permeating the menagerie.
"May I?" she said, indicating his hand with her eyes. She took a pinch of a few berries from his palm.
It was the second time he could remember her initiating contact between them. More often than not, she seemed to pull away from his touch. He watched her as she put her hand through the bars.
"No need to be afraid," she said. She tossed a few berries toward them. Two retreated, but one looked at the berries for a moment before gingerly walking toward the food, picking up a piece, and tapping it on his teeth.
Soon enough, all three monkeys had eaten the scattered berries and were looking expectantly at Isabel.
"Extraordinary.” Charles said to her, tossing a few berries toward the monkeys. “You seem to have a gift with them."
Isabel laughed. "That, or I simply have the food they wish for." She jumped s
lightly as a monkey came up to the bars in front of her. It looked at her with a round, direct stare. She put her hand through the bars slowly. The monkey looked at her and then at her hand, grabbed the berries, and hopped back toward the others.
Miss Darling gasped, and the others applauded.
Isabel brushed off her gloved hands. "I believe they are as scared of us as we are of them."
Charles looked at the monkeys who were chewing on their berries while staring at the group. "I think you're onto something there," Charles said. He put out a handful of berries, and two monkeys ambled over to take them. He looked over at Isabel, and she nodded her head approvingly.
"I think I should like to try," Julia said, putting a hand into the container. “Pardon me," she said, sidling into the small space between Charles and Isabel with a smile. “This seems to be the best position for feeding them.” She extended a handful of berries through the bars, and a monkey approached.
"Easy, Ju," Charles said, seeing the way her body turned away from the bars as if she wasn't sure she welcomed contact with the animal.
The monkey sniffed her hand and began taking the berries. Its fingers touched her hand, and she jumped at the direct contact, closing her hand into a fist and drawing back slightly.
The monkey howled and grabbed her hand. She screamed and tore it away, yelping as the monkey's claws scraped at her fist. She drew her hand toward her, cradling it and let out a small scream when she saw the blood which was seeping slightly through her gloves.
"Ju!" Charles put a hand below hers and leaned in to inspect the wounds. The monkey’s claws had only ripped the glove in one place, but blood showed through in three different areas. "This cut doesn't look too deep—your glove stopped a great deal of damage—but the wounds definitely need attention."
"Yes," Isabel said, "we should get you inside where they can be cleaned and dressed. I'll inform the servants."
"Good idea," Charles said, nodding to her. He was grateful Isabel had a practical head on her shoulders. "Are you all right, Ju?"
"I feel delirious," she said, looking up into his eyes with flitting eyelids. She leaned on him heavily.
He glanced at the others.
Cecilia stood with her mouth agape. "I think I shall faint," she suddenly cried. Her body went slack, and Lord Brockway rushed to catch her under the arms.
Charles swore under his breath.
"My thoughts precisely," Miss Holledge said as she assisted Lord Brockway in placing Cecilia’s comatose form into his arms.
Isabel hastened back toward them. "They have gone to prepare things inside. Let us make our way there."
Charles nodded, putting a supporting arm around Julia's waist and urging her forward.
She looked up into his eyes, her shoulders slumped over and brows drawn together. "I don't think I can walk, Charles. I feel so dizzy."
He placed an arm behind her knees and lifted her.
"Thank you," she said, laying her head onto his shoulder and closing her eyes. He expected some kind of internal reaction to her proximity, but he felt nothing but an urgency to get her inside.
The group hastened to the manor where the servants directed them to the library.
Charles laid Julia carefully on the chaise lounge. Isabel stood ready with a bowl of water and a towel.
"Would you care to clean the wounds?" she said, offering the bowl and towel to him. She glanced down at Julia. "I'm afraid it will sting, Miss Darling."
"No, Charles," Julia said in a feeble but urgent voice. "Let someone else do it. I wish for you to hold my hand, please. You know that I can't bear pain."
Charles's eyes flitted up to Isabel.
She stood more stiffly than usual, and her eyes were lowered, looking at the bowl in her hands.
He pressed his lips together in what he hoped was a smile and took Julia's hand in his. Why did he feel so conflicted?
"I am happy to clean the wounds," Isabel said, pulling up a footstool beside Miss Darling. "I am told I have a gentle hand." She wore a sympathetic smile.
Julia's neck was stretched, her face expressionless. She brushed lightly at a hair which had fallen onto her forehead and then winced. She had used the injured hand.
"Well," she said as she inspected it with a frown, "perhaps it makes sense for you to clean the wounds since it was your idea to feed the beasts."
Isabel stiffened momentarily in the act of seating herself, looking at Julia with an open mouth.
Charles was incredulous. "Ju," he said. "That's not fair."
"No," Isabel said, dipping the towel in the water. “She is right. It was unwise of me to feed the animals from my hand. It's unlikely that anyone else would have thought to do such a heedless thing if I had not set a precedent."
"I think," Miss Holledge chimed in as she fanned Cecilia who was sprawled on the settee, "that perhaps things would not have gone awry if the rest of us—" she emphasized the words but her eyes darted to Julia, "—were as calm as you were with them. It seems that they can, indeed, smell fear."
Charles thought that Miss Holledge quite likely had a point. The monkeys had been fine to take their food from his hands and Isabel's hands. Julia's sudden movement was what seemed to have triggered the injury.
Isabel cleaned the wound with delicate but confident movements. Julia was not an easy patient, though, as she frequently called out in pain and drew her hand away, a reaction which only increased her discomfort. She squeezed Charles's hand with every brush of the wet towel.
He tried to calm her with assurances that it would be over soon, but he couldn't deny the small twinges of impatience he felt. The wounds were red and had bled some, but they were far from being serious or deep.
Once the bandage was secured around her hand, Isabel stood with the pink-tinged water and towel. "There," she said. "I don't believe we have much cause for concern. The wounds should recover fairly quickly, and I think the bandage will help reduce the discomfort."
She wore a pained smile. She seemed to truly feel for Julia.
Julia heaved a large sigh, laid her head back, and closed her eyes.
"Isabel," Charles said as he stood.
Isabel turned, looking expectantly at him.
But Julia's eyes shot open as Charles's hand released hers. "Where are you going, Charles? I still need you."
He glanced at Julia and then back at the retreating figure of Isabel—she hadn’t stayed after Julia’s call to him. Patting Julia's uninjured hand, he reassured her, "I will only be a moment."
"Isabel," he said as he came up beside her.
She stopped just shy of the door. He took in a breath, his lips pressed together, and his forehead creased. "Julia is"— he grimaced and shook his head, trying to find the right words —"a passionate person, and it can lead her to say rash or ill-judged things. I hope that what she said didn't hurt you." He looked into Isabel's eyes. “It isn’t your fault.”
Isabel swallowed but smiled at him. "I was not hurt by what she said."
The way she phrased it was strange—almost too exact. And why did he have the impression that her smile was covering something?
He rubbed his hands down the legs of his pantaloons. "You were very kind to dress the wounds. And very forbearing with a difficult patient." A wry smile appeared on his face as he brought up his left hand. There were three red marks from Julia's grasping nails.
"Oh dear," said Isabel with a small laugh. "Perhaps you need this?" She raised the bowl of water.
Charles chuckled and rubbed at the three marks. "Or perhaps I simply showed too much fear."
Isabel repressed a smile, but a dimple peeped out.
He grinned. He always felt a sense of satisfaction when he brought a smile to Isabel's face. Particularly when he knew she was trying to repress her amusement.
"Charles!" Julia's voice rang out.
His head jerked toward the sound, but he brought his gaze back to Isabel. He raised his shoulders in a helpless gesture, inclined his head to Isabel,
and turned back toward Julia.
16
Isabel sipped her cup of chocolate. She never took her breakfast in bed. But today was different.
Things had not gone to plan for Cecilia—or for anyone in the group, surely—on their visit to the menagerie, and Isabel was in no mood to subject herself to the aftereffects. She needed time to consider what to do next.
Lord Brockway seemed to be distancing himself from Cecilia without much difficulty. And who could blame him after the way she had been treating him? But if she continued to treat any gentleman who fell in love with her the same way, she would have no prospects at all, much less the spectacular marriage she seemed to expect. Isabel's hope for her sister to come to her senses was fading quickly. And with it, her confidence in her own future.
Charles's behavior had been, as usual, puzzling. At times earnest, at other times teasing, his behavior raised emotions in her that inevitably came crashing down when she remembered that it was all done with the intent to win back Miss Darling—Miss Darling who seemed to lose no opportunity of reminding Isabel that she considered Charles to be hers.
There was an urgent knock on the door.
"Come in," she said, setting her chocolate down on the breakfast tray.
It was Anaïs. Her face was pale, and she was out of breath.
"They've come to take Hetty, mademoiselle! Venez." She motioned for Isabel to come.
Isabel set the tray in front of her and threw the bed covers back. She grabbed her dressing gown and put it on as she rushed through the door, held open by Anaïs.
She could hear a commotion at the front door. Hetty was sobbing, and Mrs. Cosgrove's voice was raised, followed by the voice of someone Isabel had met only once but had no difficulty identifying: Mrs. Robson.
Isabel arrived to see the three women as well as a man dressed in simple but neat clothing. He held a paper in his hands and his chin up with a slight sneer, as if the disturbance occurring in front of him were distasteful to him. Paxton stood to the side of the group.
