Her voice, though light, was true and supple, so she was well able to please with simple airs. As she began to sing though, she heard Lord Francis join in. His husky baritone resonated in her ears, and she fancied she could feel his warm breath disturbing the small hairs on her neck. Isobel squared her shoulders, determined not to allow her consciousness of his lordship’s presence to disturb her further that evening. She shifted through a whole series of simple well-known tunes, and again, the music did its magic of sweeping her away from the company and its discomfort, so that she could feel quite in charity with Lord Francis, when at length she had had enough. She stood up from the pianoforte and turned to him with a laughing smile to thank him for the pleasure. The arrested look in his eyes, and the way his hand crept up involuntarily from his side as though to take hers, made the words catch in her throat.
"You are very musical, Lord Francis. I wish you had told us sooner. Do you play as well?" she said instead, in a forced tone.
The warmth in his face faded to be replaced by his usual expression of polite boredom.
"Very roughly I fear, ma’am. I learned in Spain, when we were homesick and lonely for the music of England, but am not well trained."
"Did you discover your talent for singing there as well, then?" asked Isobel.
"No, my mother is musical and I have many childhood memories of evenings spent singing with my brother and her. However, my voice too is untutored, and I fear that of late I have used it more on Spanish drinking songs than the melodies of home."
Lord Wereham laughed at this and expressed a desire to hear his lordship play some Spanish music.
"For his lordship to be singing drinking songs is quite ineligible in the presence of ladies, my dear Wereham," pronounced Honoria.
"How can you know, dear sister, when none of us speak Spanish?" inquired Isobel.
"I suppose is Honoria is correct, Isobel," said Harriet, "only think how shocking to ask Lord Francis to sing coarse Spanish songs to us."
"I did not say that drinking songs were the only Spanish tunes with which I am acquainted," interjected Lord Francis. "I do know one or two quite unexceptionable airs."
Lord Francis took Isobel’s place at the instrument and proceeded to sing a plaintive lament that, although the words could not be understood, was clearly a love song. His gaze sought hers as he began to sing. Embarrassed, she moved away from his line of sight to seat herself.
What was he thinking of, she wondered furiously. The Viscount and Honoria must have noticed the particularity of his behavior. It was as though he wished to give credence to their suspicions for pure mischief, or perhaps that he really did mean what he had said to her of his interest, and now behaved in this way in order to apprise her family that he was epris in her direction. Either way, she thought with annoyance, it would do Lord Francis no good. He was very attractive, no doubt, but was a useless man of fashion, intent only on his own pleasures. And yet, she knew in her heart this was not a fair assessment of Lord Francis; he had shown himself to be a gentleman of considerable humor and character. She had no need of a husband, Isobel reminded herself fiercely, with her rich fortune, her broad acquaintance, and her distinguished family.
When the song came to an end Isobel stationed herself near the card table and joined the others in praise of Lord Francis’ voice. The rubber was over, and though Dr. Alvey clearly wished for another game, the tea tray was brought, and thus fortified, the guests were ready to leave. Isobel was happy to make her adieux and then fled to her bedchamber, leaving Harriet and Lord Francis conversing politely in the drawing room. She must be thankful after the disturbing events of the evening that Lord Francis departed soon. His flirtatious behavior had distressed her deeply, for reasons she did not wish to consider, and Isobel had no wish for another disturbing encounter with him.
Chapter 6
The next morning was unusually fair and beautiful, and Isobel and Miss Harriet elected to stroll about the grounds. After some desultory conversation about the weather, Harriet trod into the dangerous waters of Lord Francis' apparent interest in Isobel.
"Lord Francis displayed a marked partiality for you yesterday evening, Isobel. I fancy that your brother and his wife cannot be unaware of it. Do you suppose he will soon be asking Wereham's permission to address you?"
Isobel's eyes grew wide. "Pay his addresses?" she asked incredulously, "Are you all about in the head, Cousin? Lord Francis is amusing himself, nothing more. He has been away from England for several years, and I have no doubt that he will flirt desperately with every young lady who comes his way this Season."
"Well, my dear, you may be correct, but I have watched many young men come home from wars, and I fancy that Lord Francis is doing more than flirting with you. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve as you played the pianoforte, but perhaps you failed to notice it. I fancy that Lady Wereham was more observant, however."
"Lady Wereham minds other people's business far more than is proper," responded Isobel. "She may be taken in by Lord Francis, but I will not be. He is personable merely, nothing more."
"I think that you should consider accepting him when he offers for you," volunteered Harriet. "You deal so extremely together, you know. I have seldom seen a couple so well suited, except perhaps for dear Maria Blackheath who married Lord Carringbroke...but there, it is you I am thinking of, not Maria."
Isobel, who had been hoping that Harriet would divert herself, sighed inwardly as her cousin persisted. "Lord Francis never seems perturbed at your odd fits, or even asks questions about why you live alone instead of with dear Frederick."
"He has met dear Frederick," interrupted Isobel. "What need has he to ask?"
"There, that is exactly what I was referring to," remarked Harriet triumphantly. "Most men would be excessively taken aback by such comments, while Lord Francis wouldn't even blink."
Isobel had no reply to this and lapsed into thoughtful silence. She had been surprised by Lord Francis' attentions the previous evening, and still more startled by her own response, for none of her many previous suitors had had any effect on her heart. Now she found to her surprise that Harriet, and possibly Honoria, viewed Lord Francis' behavior as something far more than mere flirtation. Viewed in this light, Lord Francis, she had to admit, was extremely eligible. Furthermore, her own attraction to him was undeniable. His virile image appeared before her mind's eye, startling her by how pleasant she found it. She blushed.
The two women's footsteps had brought them back to the front of Kitswold House, and Isobel was astonished to see a hired post chaise drawn by a pair standing in front of the door. Several trunks were strapped to the back and her footmen were engaged in removing the baggage to the house.
"How very odd, Isobel dear," exclaimed Harriet, "Are we expecting more visitors?"
"I think not, Harriet," replied Isobel cautiously. "But be careful what you say in front of the servants." She ran lightly up the steps and through the open door. In the hall, a beautiful fair‑haired young woman was standing forlornly in the middle of the floor, with a small child clinging to her skirts and a babe in her arms.
"Letitia!" exclaimed Isobel in amazement.
Letitia Winwood, Lady Morgan, had come out in the same Season as Isobel some years before, and they had become fast friends. While Isobel was more than fond of Letitia, she was not expecting her to appear at the doorstep of Kitswold House only a few days before she planned to leave for London.
"Oh, my dear," said Isobel, clasping her in her arms. "How good to see you!"
Letitia looked as though she might cry. Isobel became aware of the servant hovering in the background, and hastened to relieve them of his presence. "Haggock," she said. "Lady Morgan has come to spend some few days with us. Have you not?" she asked Letitia, who nodded silently.
"I have been excessively stupid Haggock. In all the confusion with Lord Francis I neglected to tell the staff that I received a note from my friend two weeks ago telling me that she planned to visit, and I w
as so full of my nursing duties that I forgot to mention it. It was most scatter-brained of me. Ask Mrs. Bridges to prepare a chamber for Lady Morgan, and fetch a maid to take care of the children. And have some tea and cakes brought in to the sitting room immediately. We must make our guest welcome."
Haggock bowed and hurried from the hall, mystified by Isobel's behavior. In all his years he had never known Miss Isobel to forget that visitors were coming, but they were clearly here, and the staff must be alerted.
In the sitting room Isobel hovered over Letitia. "My dear, why are you here? Are you in good health?"
Letitia responded by placing her face in her hands and bursting into tears. Isobel gazed at her in astonishment and then sat down next to her and clasped her in her arms. Letitia continued to cry, and Isobel sat rocking her as she wept and shuddered.
Isobel was amazed and frightened at Letitia's state, for Lady Morgan was one of her dearest friends. Since her marriage to Lord Morgan, they had seen little of each other, as Letitia naturally spent most of her time at her husband's remote Welsh estates far from the Cotswold's. They had met as young women, newly out, in their first Season. Isobel's dark coloring and vivacity had contrasted with and complemented Letitia's fairness and air of celestial calm, and the two were soon nicknamed Snow White and Rose Red by their admiring gallants. The two young women had discovered there was a deep understanding between themselves as well, with Letitia admiring Isobel's courage and daring, and Isobel appreciating Letitia's quiet sureness.
They cherished their friendship and spent as much time together as could be snatched between balls and morning visits and rides in the park. But whereas Isobel had found no man to touch her heart that first Season, Letitia had quickly become engaged to young Alfred Winwood, Baron Morgan. He was a gentleman of the ton, owner of pleasant estates, and possessor of a great charm of manner. He had quite swept Letitia off her feet, and she had been desperately in love. Isobel, while regretting the loss of her friend, had approved of her choice; Lord Morgan seemed to be a man who would make an excellent husband. Society had embraced the match; Letitia was the only child of a wealthy baronet, who, although his estates were entailed on a male heir, had left his young daughter a healthy fortune. This money, added to the Morgan name and estates, was most suitable.
Isobel had attended the wedding breakfast, but since that time communication with Letitia had been uneven. Isobel wrote her friend long, chatty letters, detailing both her social activities and her more scholarly pursuits, for Letitia was one of the few who knew of Isobel's passion for antiquity. At first Letitia had responded in kind, but after the birth of her son the letters were shorter and less detailed. Isobel had put this down to her friend's preoccupation with motherhood, but of late the letters had almost lapsed all together, leaving Isobel puzzled and a trifle worried.
Isobel produced a lace kerchief and attempted to wipe Letitia's tears. "Come, my dear, do not weep so," she said. "Surely I can help you with whatever is wrong. Is Alfred well?"
This question produced a further bout of weeping, and Isobel was almost relieved when Haggock reappeared in the door carrying a tray heavy with tea and cakes. Isobel indicated that he should place it on the table, and with an anxious look at her friend, sent him away to fetch some ratafia. She tried again to staunch the flow of Letitia's tears.
"Letitia, I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is the matter," she said.
Letitia drew a deep breath and wiped her eyes, trying to hold back her tears. "I am sorry, Isobel," she said softly. "I do not mean to burden you, but I could think of no one else to turn to."
"I am very glad you have come to me," said Isobel stoutly. "But you must stop crying and tell me what is wrong."
Letitia gave a mournful little laugh. "Dear Isobel," she said. "Always so practical. I knew I could trust you to be sensible."
Haggock returned with the wine and a rosy-cheeked maid, who looked at the two ladies in surprise.
Isobel stood up hastily, attempting to shield Letitia from their view. "Thank you, Haggock," she said. "Daisy, please come take charge of Lady Morgan's children. Her son's name is James, and the baby is Emily. I am sure they are hungry and tired after the journey. Take them to the kitchen and feed them and then put them down to rest. Lady Morgan will be staying here for some time and you will be the nursery maid."
"Yes, miss," said Daisy, looking pleased at this sudden elevation in her status. Sally, the other lower housemaid, would be jealous. She swept up the baby and offered James her free hand, who took it after a questioning look at his mother, who nodded and smiled at him.
"Go with her, Jamie," she said. "No one will hurt you here."
Daisy and the children left, and Isobel dismissed Haggock with a nod. "Now my dear, tell me what brings you here," she said, pouring tea but keeping the ratafia close at hand.
Letitia accepted a cup and sipped it thirstily. "Oh Isobel, I am sorry to impose on you."
"Nonsense," said Isobel. "Only tell me how I may be of service to you."
Letitia put down her teacup and looked pensive. "I hardly know where to start," she said. "I have made such a mess of things."
"I am sure that this is not your fault," said Isobel. "Is something wrong with Alfred?"
Letitia smiled wanly. "You might say so. Oh Isobel, I was so deceived in him! He seemed so gracious and loving when he was courting me; I had no idea that he would change so after we were wed."
Isobel stared at her in amazement. "Alfred has changed? How so?" she demanded.
Letitia bit her lip. "He drinks too much," she said. "All he seems to care about is hunting and carousing with his friends."
"That is frightful of him," agreed Isobel. "But surely drinking and hunting are the pursuits of many gentlemen?"
"Yes," said Letitia. "But he no longer seems to have any interest in me or our children. He speaks to me only to accuse me of interfering with his pastimes and he never shows me any kindness. And he has gambled away almost all our money. My fortune is gone and his estates are heavily encumbered; indeed, though I did not know it, he had already lost all his own money when we wed. We can barely pay the interest on his debts."
"But Alfred never was a gambler when I knew him," said Isobel.
"He is many things he did not seem to be," said Letitia wretchedly. "He is keeping a mistress as well."
Isobel drew in her breath. "How do you know?" she asked. She knew many fashionable men had a mistress, but they were usually discreet about it.
Letitia sobbed. "Because he brings her to the house," she said. "And he tells me he will bring her there to live if I do not leave him alone!"
Isobel was aghast. For a gentleman to treat his wife so was a breach of every level of the social code. Letitia deserved to be well treated in her own home.
"And so you came to me when he said this?" she asked.
"No," said Letitia. "I tried to keep my pride about me and act as if I did not know what he was about. But when he boxed little Jamie's ears so hard that he could not hear for three days merely for spilling a glass of milk, I could not help chastising him for being a poor father. And then he struck me."
Isobel gasped. "He hit you?" she said. "How dare he? Are you injured?"
Letitia rubbed her shoulder and shook her head. "Nothing that will not heal quickly, but it frightened me badly. He was very drunk. The next morning when he was ill I begged permission to visit you, and he told me to go and be damned. I left before he could change his mind and came straight to you; I could think of no one else who might help me."
"But, surely your family will aid you?" said Isobel.
"My father is dead, and my cousin the new Baron has no interest in my problems. A wife has no legal right to her own money or home; all is her husband's. Alfred has control over me and all that is mine, and my cousin feels that is right."
Isobel stared at her blankly. "Surely you have some recourse," she said.
"None," said Letitia. "I cannot leave him, or I will be parte
d from the children. The law says they are his, not mine, and if I separate from Alfred I must leave Jamie and Emily with him. I cannot bear to leave my darlings in his care, so I must stay to protect them."
Isobel gazed at her in horror. The things Letitia was saying were not unknown to her; she had a considerable knowledge of the rights of women in English society, and had long decried the restrictions that were placed upon wives. But never before had she been directly confronted by the evils of the law; her own family was composed mostly of contented marriages, and those that were not happy were at least civil, with the husband and wife coming to some sort of understanding. Now, a person who was inexpressibly dear to her was being forced to choose the loss of her own dignity and safety or the loss of her children.
Isobel poured herself a glass of ratafia and downed it rapidly. "I will speak to my lawyer when I get to town," she said firmly. "There must be something that can be done for you."
Letitia shook her head mournfully. "I have no legal recourse, I believe," she said.
"We will try," said Isobel firmly. "I go to town soon, and you shall come with me. Until then you shall rest here and try to forget what Alfred has become. It will be wonderful to spend time with you again."
"You are a great comfort to me," said Letitia. "And yet I fear that there is nothing even one as strong minded as you can do. But I thank you for your hospitality; I do not want to be a burden to you, but I have nowhere else to turn."
"I am glad you came to me," said Isobel. "I shall do my best to aid you. But now you must be exhausted. You will lie down in a warm room by a fire for some hours and then perhaps you will feel stronger."
Isobel took Letitia to her room, and with Harriet's aid settled her abed with a shawl about her shoulders and a fire roaring in the grate. She returned to the sitting room and sat gazing out the window, pondering her friend's perilous situation and despairing over what could be done.
The fine morning had given way to grey skies and rain as Isobel sat pondering Letitia's difficulties. The door clicked open and Isobel started as Lord Francis entered the room. She regarded him with a jaundiced eye. Her brooding over Letitia's troubles had done nothing to improve her opinion of gentlemen of fashion, and Lord Francis was looking particularly sleek and well groomed. He sported a well-tailored coat, and his sling merely added an aura of dashing recklessness to his appearance.
The Secret Bluestocking: Isobel's Traditional Regency Romance Page 5
