by Joyce Alec
Charles read the letter two times over, before letting the parchment fall from his fingers, seeing it flutter down onto his desk. His father’s words, whilst filling him with worry and apprehension, did not concern him as much as the sentiment his father had shared—that Charles was, in fact, a selfish person by nature. His father felt that he had to ask Charles to care for Miss Docherty, encouraging him to think of himself last, instead of first. Was he truly that kind of man?
“For goodness sake!” he exclaimed, rising from his desk in frustration. “I am doing exactly the same thing again.” Here he was, reading about his aunt and the danger to Miss Docherty, and the only thing concerning him was what his father had said about his behavior. He was acting selfishly, caught up in his own feelings and emotions.
Groaning aloud, he poured himself a brandy, despite it only being mid-morning. His father had never told him about his aunt’s growing anger over Isabella’s mother, nor that she had been sent to live in an estate of her own. Was his father right in believing that Lady Johnston had been driven mad by the entire situation?
Frowning, Charles recalled how his uncle and aunt had never had children of their own, although his uncle had children from his first wife who had died during childbirth. Why had his aunt harbored such terrible rage? Was it because his governess had borne a child from her husband, whereas she had never been able to carry one? His heart twisted a little in sympathy for his aunt, despite the harm she had caused.
At the same time, he recalled how Miss Docherty had cried in his arms only two days prior. He had, of course, gone to demand she return to the house for his other guests had found her absence more than a little rude, but instead, he had simply held her as she sobbed. He had been so caught up on the impression Miss Docherty was making on his guests that he had forgotten the trauma she had experienced and was, evidently, still dealing with.
The way she had described his guests had, at first, made him stiffen with anger, before realizing that she had every right to say what she did. All the ladies did was talk about whatever titbits of gossip they had heard, making assumptions and conjectures that, at times, could easily turn into rumor. It had never bothered him before that moment, but standing outside by Miss Docherty, and seeing the disdain on her face, had sent a chill right into his soul.
She was correct when she stated that their worlds were very different, but it had made Charles question what it was he loved about his world so very much. Why did he want Miss Docherty to slot into his world without a second thought? Was it because he thought himself better than her? That she should simply step into his realm with delight and pleasure?
He had asked her if he was truly so terrible, and she had not answered. She did not need to. His hope of changing her opinion about him had failed, for the answer had been in her eyes. His heart had stung with the pain of her silent reproof, pushing question after question into his mind.
“Then what am I to do with you?” he muttered to himself, thinking about what his father had said. Was there any chance that his aunt could discover that she was there? His father did not say where she now lived, but even writing to his uncle could take some time before there was an adequate response. His plans to return to London for Christmas Eve now seemed to shatter before his eyes. Surely the most important thing was now to look out for Miss Docherty, even though he was not sure what to do with her.
His guests needed him, however. There were still days left before they were due to return to London, and he was expected to come up with various entertainments, which would include Isabella. Would it be so terrible to continue with the house party whilst she was present within his home? It would give her company, at least, but then he recalled what she had said about his guests, and his heart sank. She did not belong with these people, and they were looking down their noses at her already, simply because she did not join in the idle gossip that the ladies seemed to enjoy so much.
You could always declare the house party over, said a small voice. That way you can focus on protecting Isabella.
The thought struck him, hard, but he tried to dismiss it at once. He could not send his guests home without warning, for then he would become the talk of London. They would have no understanding of why he did so, and certainly would raise their eyebrows at how he had remained behind with Miss Docherty.
Then again, he could ask Lord Walton to remain, so that her reputation would be safe—not that she would care particularly about such things given that her hopes for matrimony would most likely be a cleric, farmer, or a clergyman.
“No,” he said to himself, a little more firmly than he had intended. “I cannot send them away; it would not be right. But I shall have to inform Miss Docherty of the present situation and beg her not to do anything rash.” That would mean no more walks in the garden without company, and certainly no sudden disappearances from their company. She would dislike it intensely, but Charles simply shrugged at the thought. She would simply have to bear it gracefully.
***
Miss Docherty was not all that compliant.
“I will not stay in the company of those I dislike,” she declared when he had called her to his study and explained all to her. “I shall either stay in my rooms or visit the staff below stairs. The cook is becoming dependent on me making bread for her.”
“Nonsense,” Charles retorted, horrified by the idea that Miss Docherty was spending time with his servants. “You cannot be so stubborn, Miss Docherty.”
“Isabella!”
She did not buckle, but simply glared at him. “I have always been Isabella to you, Charles. Do not start with such nonsense now, I…I cannot bear it.” Her voice lost some of its anger, the frustration leaving her gaze.
Charles felt like a stone had settled in his stomach, seeing the expression on her face. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Isabella, I must beg of you to do as I ask. I am trying my best to protect you.”
“I shall be protected within these four walls, shall I not?” Isabella asked a little more softly. “It does not matter where I go, so long as I remain indoors.”
“I know how much you love to be outdoors,” Charles said, with a half-smile. “If you wish it, I should be happy to join you whenever you wish.”
Her smile was tight, accompanied by a slight shake of her head. “Only when you are free from your obligations to your guests,” she replied so quietly he strained to hear her. “I would not make myself a heavy burden to you, Charles. I shall be content pottering around below stairs or reading quietly. I confess I have become somewhat used to my own company since my mother passed away.”
The sadness in her expression made his heart lurch, as his father’s words began to roll around his mind once more. He had to protect her, for who else would do so? There was no one in this world she could call family, and the friend she had gone to had turned out to be less than willing to help her. Shame climbed up his spine, spreading warmth through his face. Clearing his throat, he rose from his chair and came around to face her, deftly catching one of her hands in his.
“Isabella, I am sorry for how little I have offered you before now,” he said honestly. “My father’s letter chimed your words, and I have been forced to consider my actions and even my very character. Believe me when I say that I am trying my best to keep you safe, and even though the future might appear blurry at this moment, I swear to you that you will not face it alone.”
The astonishment in her eyes was immediate as she blinked, apparently trying to absorb what he had said.
“I want to trust you,” she said quietly. “And I do thank you for your concern. I will remain within these walls. I promise.”
“And we shall walk together each afternoon,” he promised, catching her smile. “I would not ask you to give that up, not when you love it so very much.”
The genuine smile on her face made him sent a surge of warmth into his heart as though, for the very first time, he was finally doing the right thing. Realizing that their hands were still joined
, he held onto them a little more tightly, suddenly unwilling to release her. His breath hitched as she lifted her face a little more to look into his eyes, a sudden and sharp urge to bring her closer to him and kiss her soundly overtaking him.
“Isabella,” he said hoarsely, moving closer. “I….” He did not know what he was trying to say, unable to think clearly. Her presence, her closeness, was making his head spin as he tried to sort out his flying emotions into some sort of coherent order, but finding that he was entirely unable to do so. One urge kept pushing him, the desire to press his lips to hers growing stronger with each passing second.
Unable to fight it any longer, Charles lowered his head and caught her lips with his, heat searing through him and lights exploding in his head.
Only for a short, sharp pain to ripple through his cheek from where she had slapped him.
Chapter Twelve
Throwing herself from her chair, Isabella stumbled back from Charles. “What are you doing?” She hated that heat had rushed through her at his kiss, despising the fact that she had been weak enough to allow it, albeit briefly.
Charles rubbed the side of his face, looking more than a little annoyed. “I think that was obvious, Isabella.” To rose to his feet and faced her, his mouth a hard line.
“I am not your conquest!” she exclaimed, her hand stinging from where she had slapped him. “I am not like Lady Swift!”
His expression changed from annoyance to shock. “Surely, you do not think that I would treat you in such a manner, Isabella?”
“Of course I do,” she retorted, refusing to believe that he could truly feel anything for her. “You are well used to that, are you not? Used to having ladies fall at your feet, used to stealing kisses from those you choose?” Isabella could feel her cheeks heat as she backed away from him, hating that he had managed to capture her under his spell.
He shook his head, looking as though he was about to explode in temper, and Isabella felt herself shrink inside, suddenly afraid of his anger.
“Isabella,” he said, his voice loud and filled with wrath. “I…”
She stared at him in astonishment as his voice suddenly faded away, the anger in his eyes dimming. The finger he pointed at her dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping. It was as though the fight had gone out of him in one breath.
“You are right to think that of me,” he said, in a voice that was filled with misery and contempt for himself. “Oh, Isabella, what have I become?”
The eyes that lifted to hers were ones bright with sadness and shame, and, without warning, Isabella felt her heart wrench with pity for him.
“My father has shown me that you were right to question my integrity,” he continued, turning away from her. “I become angry at your assessment of me when you have every right to think as you do.”
“Charles,” she heard herself say, reaching out one hand to him. “I did not mean to cause you this much suffering.”
He glanced at her before slumping down in a seat by the fire. “It is a fire I need to go through,” he said quietly. “A fire of refinement. I am a man who cares only for himself and his own pleasures. A man who turned away from his oldest friend because he considered her an inconvenience.” His voice broke, and he passed a hand over his eyes.
Isabella was stunned. This was no pretense, no game that he was playing to try and make her bend to his will. It was as though he was being taken apart, piece by piece, right before her very eyes. She had never believed that anything she said would get through to him, but apparently, it had pierced his very soul and now he was being transformed.
“I have brought nothing but misery to my parents,” he continued unhappily. “They are right in their estimation of me, as are you.” He shook his head, before looking up at her sharply. “But no longer. My guests must go. You are the priority.”
Isabella gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Oh, no, Charles!” she exclaimed, her breath hitching. “They will despise being sent away early. Did you not have some wonderful entertainments planned?”
He shook his head, a determined look on his face. “And yet, I see now that such things are not important. I would rather be here with you, ensuring your safety and wellbeing than continue with my plans.”
Stammering, Isabella tried to protest, but to her shock, Charles seemed quite determined. She could hardly believe that he was genuine in his intentions, given how much she knew he adored all the festivities he had planned, but as he threw himself from his chair and stalked from the room, she was left standing in disbelief, unable to take in the extraordinary events that had just occurred.
Charles had kissed her, then declared what a scoundrel he was, only to leave her standing alone while he went to send his guests packing. She did not know what to do or to think, still frozen to the spot.
However, she could not help but smile just a little, relief suddenly filling her as she wandered to the door. This was the very first hint of the Charles she had once known, the kind, compassionate, and sometimes, impetuous, young man that had been her friend. Could she allow herself to hope that he was truly genuine? That he really was attempting to change?
***
Wandering along the corridor, Isabella was surprised to hear a sudden crash. Shrieks and shouts erupted from nearby, which made her hair stand on end. To her astonishment, Lady Swift came crashing out of the drawing room and stormed along the hallway towards Isabella, shouting and wailing with every step. Behind her came the other ladies, each one spitting with fury.
Apparently, Charles’ swift decision to bring an end to the house party had not gone down well.
“You!” shrieked Lady Swift, stopping dead in her tracks and glaring at Isabella. “This is all your doing!” One long, bony finger prodded Isabella’s shoulder as she stared at Lady Swift, not sure what she meant.
“You think you can have him all to yourself, but I assure you that he is not that kind of gentleman. He will have his fill of you soon enough, and then where will you be?”
Isabella opened her mouth to defend herself, entirely bewildered at what was going on, but Lady Swift, having said her piece, turned on her heel and marched away. Each of the other ladies gave Isabella a look that was filled with loathing, as though she had somehow influenced Charles to bring the party to a sudden close.
Letting out a long breath and still feeling bemused, Isabella continued to make her way along the hallway, only to hear Charles’ loud voice booming across the hallway, intermingled with two other gentleman’s voices. Apparently, Charles was having a bit of a difficult time in encouraging his guests to leave. Isabella had to admit that even she was stunned by his swift decision, and not wanting to be the brunt of any more wrath, hurried up the staircase towards her bedchamber.
It did not take long to push her feet into cozy boots and pull her warm cloak around her shoulders, and after only a few minutes, Isabella found herself outside, her feet crunching over the still frozen ground. The warning Charles had given her rang in her ears for a moment, but she did not heed it for long. She would only be outside a few minutes, needing to get away from the commotion going on within.
Isabella had to admit that whilst she was utterly astonished by all that had just occurred, she could not help but be thrilled with the fact that Charles was showing her such consideration. It made her feel as though she was actually important to him, that their long-standing friendship meant something to him. Whether it would be a lasting transformation, she could not say, but Isabella was determined to trust that, at least for the time being, he wanted to prove that he could change.
The gardens were quiet and still, with barely even a bird song to interrupt the silence. Isabella smiled to herself as she walked, enjoying the sights and sounds of being outside alone on a cold winter’s day. The sun was barely visible, even though it was still early afternoon, and a cold grayness wrapped itself around the trees. Despite this, Isabella found a great deal of happiness and contentment in being outdoors, straying a little further
than she ought.
“I knew I would find you here.”
With a shriek, Isabella spun on her heel to see the same woman who had destroyed her home. It was Lady Johnston. Isabella’s heart began to slam repeatedly into her chest, making her gasp for breath.
“Trying to get back into the family, are you?” the lady sneered, walking closer to Isabella, who immediately began to back away. “As soon as I found out you had been at my sister-in-law’s door, I knew I had to stop you.”
“Stop me?” Isabella repeated, trying to think of a way to get past the lady, but discovering that she had the same brute of a man standing just behind her. He would easily stop Isabella if she tried to run past them. “I came to them for aid. That is all.” She tried to keep her voice calm, even though her mind was screaming in panic. “How did you know I had gone there?”
Lady Johnston laughed wickedly. “Do you not think that I have spies within the walls of my brother’s home, as well as my husband’s? I know all their goings on. Ever since they decided to banish me from my own home, I have been determined to know everything that goes on in their households.”
“I assure you, I mean no harm to your family,” Isabella pleaded, her eyes glancing all around her in an attempt to find a way to escape. “I have simply come to them in search of help.”
The lady shook her head, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of steel. “No, you intend to get your claws into that nephew of mine.”
“I do not, I swear to you,” Isabella promised, growing more frightened with each passing second. “Charles has been very good to me and—”
“Charles!” Lady Johnston shrieked, her eyes widening as if with shock. “Charles! You dare to call him Charles when you are nothing, nothing, compared to him. You have no right!”
Isabella allowed the lady to continue her rant as her stomach clenched with fear. The man standing to Lady Johnston’s left was wearing a somewhat crooked grin, as though he were enjoying the prospect of bringing Isabella’s life to a swift and sudden end.
