Isabel: A Regency Romance

by Keyes, Martha

  Charles drew his head back a bit and offered his arm to Julia. "And why is that?"

  Julia's smile became more forced. "Oh, she does not approve of my association with Farrow. She thinks I am ruining my chances with other eligible gentlemen by spending so much time in his company. She believes that my reputation has suffered and that you are the best we can hope for now."

  "Very flattering," Charles said grimly.

  He thought of what Isabel had said. Perhaps she had a point—Julia’s mother at least seemed to think Farrow was not the sort of character her daughter should consider eligible for marriage. Surely whatever reason she had for thinking that would also be known to Julia.

  "And what do you think?" he said, turning his head to watch her.

  "I think," she glanced back at her mother with a smile and leaned closer to Charles, "that my mother has any number of antiquated notions."

  Charles looked down to the ground, pursing his lips. He wasn't sure how earnest Julia was. She seemed not to take her mother's reasons seriously. But how much did she know? And how much did her mother know or guess?

  There had always been something off-putting about Farrow—perhaps his arrogance. So, when Charles had learned of Hetty's predicament—and that it was at the hands of Farrow—his dislike of the man had been cemented.

  If Farrow had done the honorable thing and taken responsibility for Hetty, perhaps he could have overlooked his actions. But he had not taken responsibility. He had taken advantage of Hetty's youth and naïveté and then left her with nothing. It was despicable. And his role in sending her to Marshalsea? It was outside of any bounds.

  This was the man Julia was allowing to court her. She couldn't possibly know how black his character was.

  "I admit," Charles said, "that I, too, dislike seeing you in his company."

  "Jealous, Charles?" Julia said with a teasing look.

  "Perhaps," he said. "But more than that, I don't trust him. He is not who you think he is, Ju."

  Julia laughed. "You think you know him more than I?"

  He looked over at her as if he could gauge how much she knew by simply looking at her. Surely, she couldn't treat the things that Farrow had done with such levity if she were aware? "Perhaps," he said slowly, "he has only let you see the side of himself that he wishes you to see."

  "Good heavens, Charles," she turned her body toward him with an incredulous look, "What has Farrow done to set you so at odds with him? Aside from courting me."

  Charles's jaw shifted from side to side. How was he to explain everything to her? "It is nothing fit for a lady’s ears."

  "Ah," she said, turning away from him with a smile. "You mean the women of easy virtue Farrow keeps company with?"

  Charles drew back, and she laughed when she saw his face. "Surely you can't be so prudish, Charles, to begrudge Farrow his adventures."

  "Adventures?" His expression was pained, his brows drawn together. "I don't think that the pain he has left in his wake can accurately be described as an adventure, Julia."

  Julia looked at him with a patronizing smile. "Charles, if I were as fastidious as you seem to think I should be, I should have no prospects at all for marriage."

  Charles shook his head. "You hold far too low an opinion of the male sex. Even if Farrow is in the petticoat line, no gentleman worth the title would prey on innocents nor leave them uncared for."

  Julia's chin went up, and her lips pursed. "These women you speak of should perhaps take more care to guard their virtue."

  Charles could think of no response. It seemed Isabel hadn't deserved his offended reaction when she had implied that Julia was aware of Farrow's character.

  This wasn't the Julia he knew. But he had to believe that she would feel differently if she knew the details of the situation. If she had seen Hetty in distress as he and Isabel had, she would have done the same thing Isabel did. Wouldn't she?

  Julia nudged him playfully. "Oh, Charles. Do stop being so very serious. Besides, if you are trying to convince me that you are a more eligible husband than Robert, you will have to do better than that. He is very wealthy, you know." She gave him a significant look. Her eyes still teased him, but he was in no mood for it.

  He drew away from her. "Since when did such concerns matter to you so much? Whatever his wealth, I shouldn't have to convince you, Ju." He looked her in the eye. "I would care for you in a way Farrow isn't capable of, even if he has more money. I think you know that. And if wealth is more important to you than that—" he shrugged his shoulders and stared ahead "—then I wish you well."

  There was a pause before Julia said, "And what of your muse?"

  Charles's brows snapped together. "My muse?"

  "Miss Cosgrove, of course," she said with an eyebrow raised.

  He opened his mouth and then shut it. Yes, what of Isabel? He could tell Julia that his relationship with Isabel was just a result of her own rejection of him—a means to an end, no more. But was that true? Perhaps it had been at one time.

  Besides, Julia was supposed to question Charles's affection for her. That had been what they had wanted all along, wasn't it? For Julia to believe Charles was falling in love with Isabel Cosgrove.

  "It is true that I hold Isabel in great esteem," he said. And it was true. "She is unlike anyone I know—selfless, caring, loyal."

  "Well," said Julia in a clipped voice, "she sounds a terrible bore, just as I had suspected."

  Charles's half-smile appeared as he stared at the ground they were treading. "Quite the contrary. She has an unexpectedly keen sense of humor." It was one of the things he best loved about Isabel—she was amusing without even realizing it.

  He looked over at Julia—her eyes stared forward, hard and bright, and her nostrils flared slightly.

  Her expression changed suddenly, and she moved closer to him, reaching up to brush something from his face. He blinked rapidly at the abrupt change in demeanor and the intimate gesture. She was as confusing as ever.

  "What was that?" he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a curious and surprised smile.

  Her gaze shifted to the side and then back, and she looked into his eyes with the coy smile he had grown to despise. "You had something on your face." She was closer to him than ever, keeping the entirety of their upper arms locked against each other as she turned back to face the path. "Ah," she said with a large smile, turning at the approaching group of people.

  20

  When Isabel had seen Charles and Miss Darling up ahead—followed by a woman she could only assume was Miss Darling's mother—she had hoped to pass by unnoticed. The two were turned toward each other, after all, and sharing a moment which looked to be intimate. Seeing it made Isabel feel sick, and she had turned her head away, addressing a remark to Mary and Hetty to avoid observing anything more. She felt ridiculous as she thought on the moment she and Charles had shared in the churchyard.

  Miss Darling had definitely noticed her though—the furtive glance she shot in their direction as she reached up and touched Charles's face was evidence of that.

  Charles, on the other hand, was oblivious to their approach until Miss Darling turned and called their names. They had no choice but to return her smile and stop, while Mary said through her clenched, smiling teeth, "Don't let Miss Darling get to you, Izzy. She means to provoke you."

  It was only what Isabel should have expected. It meant that the plan was working: Miss Darling felt threatened by Isabel. A part of Isabel could even feel for Miss Darling—the fear that she might be losing the man she loved to another.

  The groups exchanged greetings, and Isabel forced herself to meet the eyes of both Miss Darling and Charles. The last thing she needed was for Charles to realize the truth: that she didn't have to pretend at all anymore; that her smiles for him were genuine; that she had been miserable after their last meeting, knowing that he was upset with her; that she was in love with him.

  If there was one thing that could increase the obligation he felt toward her
, it would be the knowledge that she was fast beginning to wonder how she would ever find joy outside of the relationship they had formed.

  And to allow Miss Darling to sense the jealousy or inferiority Isabel struggled against in her presence—it would be to undo much of Isabel’s work.

  Miss Darling never broke arms with Charles as she greeted the group. Her eyes landed on Hetty, and Isabel couldn't help but bite her lip as she saw the competitive gleam which came into Miss Darling's eyes in that moment. Hetty, on the other hand, was characteristically open and guileless.

  She extended a hand to Charles, saying, "I was about to embrace you, but I have been sternly informed by Izzy that it is not at all the thing, and that I must not go about embracing gentlemen."

  Charles's lip twitched and he caught Isabel's eyes. "She is quite right," he said as he shook hands with Hetty.

  Isabel watched Miss Darling send an elbow into Charles's side, indicating with a significant look that she wished to be introduced to Hetty.

  "Ah," Charles said, "Miss Darling, let me present to you Miss Hetty Robson."

  Hetty smiled and curtseyed, while Miss Darling inclined her head slightly. "Are you a relation of Miss Cosgrove's then?" Miss Darling asked.

  “Yes,” Isabel chimed in. “She is my father’s cousin’s daughter. Visiting from up north.”

  "And what of you?" Hetty said, unaffected by the daunting reaction. "Are you a relation of Mr. Galbraith's?"

  Isabel stiffened slightly. It would only be a matter of time before Miss Darling could respond that she was Charles's wife.

  "No," said Miss Darling, looking up at Charles with an arch look. "But we have known one another since childhood."

  "Oh dear," said Hetty with a self-censuring grimace. "I am forever making foolish mistakes like that. I thought that Izzy and Mr. Galbraith were married when I first met them."

  "Mrs. Darling," interjected Mary, drawing a grateful look from Isabel, "I understand that your oldest son has just bought a commission?"

  The subject changed, and Isabel found that she, Hetty, and Miss Darling were left to converse amongst themselves. Isabel wondered what she could say to this woman who seemed to have taken her in dislike and who obviously looked down upon Hetty.

  Miss Darling spoke before she had time to consider, turning toward Hetty and saying with an overwrought smile, "You mentioned your relationship with the Cosgrove family, Miss Robson. How do you come to know Charles?"

  "Oh," Hetty replied with the extra measure of energy which always permeated her voice when she spoke of Isabel or Charles, "I met him at the same time as I met Izzy. He is the most obliging and kind gentleman I know. I owe him my very life!"

  Isabel put a hand on Hetty's shoulder, hoping to quell her enthusiasm and the dangerous direction the conversation seemed to be taking. "Yes, Charles has been very good to you, hasn't he?"

  Miss Darling's smile became even more brittle. "To be sure, Charles has always been one to show kindness to the young ladies neglected by everyone else." Her bright eyes flitted to Isabel as she spoke.

  Isabel felt her cheeks heat up, but she smiled back at Miss Darling.

  "He seems to be very kind to you," Hetty said.

  Isabel's eyes widened. She glanced at Hetty, but there was no trace of impudence in the expression she directed at Miss Darling. Had she intended to put Miss Darling in her place?

  Isabel cleared her throat. "You mentioned that you grew up with Charles?"

  "Yes," Miss Darling said, her gaze lingering on Hetty for a moment before she pulled it away to meet Isabel's eyes. The brilliant blue eyes held a challenge. "We have always been on very close terms, naturally, and we always shall be, I hope.”

  How did she manage to make a smile seem so full of hostility?

  "Hmm," Hetty said.

  "What is it?" Miss Darling replied.

  "I am just surprised," Hetty said, the picture of innocent confusion. "Surprised that, close as you are, I have never once heard Charles speak of you. Not in all the times he has come to visit Izzy."

  Isabel's jaw went slack, and she grabbed Hetty's arm before Miss Darling could strike back. "Oh!" she cried, looking down the lane, "I see Lord Brockway, and I have been meaning to ask after his mother." She inclined her head at Miss Darling with the most genuine smile she could muster. "Please excuse us, Miss Darling. It was a pleasure." She tore Hetty away from Miss Darling's reach and tapped Mary on the shoulder to inform her that it was time to go. Isabel smiled at Mrs. Darling and Charles as she put a firm hand around Mary's arm, guiding her away as Mary made her excuses.

  "Wait," Charles said. He took two strides over to Isabel, bringing him back in front of Miss Darling.

  Isabel looked at him, waiting for whatever he had to say while she tried to ignore Miss Darling as she laced an arm through Charles's and stared at Isabel.

  "I had been meaning to speak with you," he said. Isabel said nothing, and his eyes darted to those surrounding them. "No matter, though. I will wait upon you instead."

  Isabel avoided Miss Darling's eyes determinedly, nodding at Charles with something between a smile and a grimace, and leading Mary and Hetty away.

  "Good heavens, Izzy," Mary said as she tried to keep up with the persistent forward tug of Isabel. "What was the meaning of all that?"

  "Perhaps you should ask Hetty," Isabel said with a mouth trembling as she tried to stave off a smile. She nudged Hetty with an elbow and looked at her.

  Hetty held her chin high. "It was high time someone gave that woman a set-down. She is quite odious, trying to make you look silly, Izzy."

  Isabel gripped her lips together and tilted her head to the side. "I'm sure she is not an odious person. It is only because she feels Charles's regard for her threatened by my presence.”

  "Oh, Izzy," Mary chimed in, "you are too charitable, if there is such a thing. Mama has always said that it is not the circumstances which are to blame for a person's rudeness; the circumstances simply bring existing rudeness to light."

  They quickly came upon Lord Brockway, approaching them at the front of a small group of people. On his arm was a petite young woman who seemed to frequently look up at him with warm eyes. Isabel thought he looked happier than she had seen him in ages. He was relaxed, and there seemed to be a lightness to his step as he came upon them.

  He came to a stop in front of the three women, greeting them in his customary polite way. The rest of the group who had been following behind Lord Brockway walked around him and continued on their way.

  Lord Brockway looked down at the young woman on his arm and said, "Miss Bernard, allow me to introduce you to Miss Holledge, Miss Cosgrove, and Miss Robson. Miss Bernard is only recently arrived from the Continent where her father was stationed for some years."

  Isabel's eyes shifted to Lord Brockway's, a significant look on her face. Was this the young woman he had mentioned at the menagerie?

  He met her look with an almost imperceptible incline of his head, confirming her suspicions. She smiled at him and greeted Miss Bernard with a friendly smile.

  They didn't tarry with the two for long, not wishing to keep them from the company who had gone on ahead of them, but when Isabel said farewell to Lord Brockway, it was with an expressive look, indicating her approval of Miss Bernard.

  "Well," Mary said as they walked away, "if those two haven't tied the knot by Michaelmas, then I know nothing of love."

  "Yes," Isabel said, "I believe you're right."

  "Happily for them." Mary glanced at Isabel. "Not so happily for you, though, Izzy."

  Isabel took in a deep breath, staring at the hem of her dress as it shifted with her moving feet. "Indeed, it does make things more awkward for me. But I am very happy for Lord Brockway, and perhaps it will help Cecilia learn a valuable lesson." She tried to make her voice sound light as she added, "Charles and Miss Darling look to be well on their way to burying the hatchet and reconciling." She saw Mary look at her through the corner of her eye and kept her eyes on the path a
head.

  "Izzy," said Mary with suspicion in her voice.

  Isabel looked at her, eyebrows up, affecting ignorance. "What?"

  Mary sighed. "And I suppose you are every bit as happy for them as you are for Lord Brockway and Miss Bernard?"

  She leaned away, looking at Mary with disbelief. "Why should I not be? It is what we have been wishing for all along."

  "It is decidedly not what I have been wishing for all along," replied Mary, turning her head away from Isabel.

  "Nor I," said Hetty.

  Isabel's throat felt tight, and she felt the back of her eyes burning. She forced a laugh. "Good gracious! Whatever can you mean?"

  "You know, Izzy," Hetty said prosaically, "You think that you are acting kindly by encouraging Mr. Galbraith to marry Miss Darling. But it is not at all kind to encourage someone as good as he is to marry someone as bad as she is.“

  Isabel's head whipped around to stare at Hetty who seemed to be suddenly full of wit and wisdom. She glanced at Mary, wondering if she, too, was surprised by this new side of the wide-eyed young woman they had taken under their wings. Mary was not smiling, though. She was looking at Isabel with a straight face and raised brows, as if challenging her to respond to such a home thrust.

  "Perhaps, Hetty," Isabel responded. "But Charles is a grown man. He is very capable of determining what is best for himself. Besides, even if Miss Darling is not the most fitting wife for him, it does not necessarily follow that I am."

  "It does for anyone who has spent any time around the two of you," said Mary flatly.

  Isabel's mouth opened to respond, but she closed it again. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt desperate to change the subject while also wanting fiercely to ask Mary what she meant.

  A sharp intake of breath erupted from Hetty. "Oh dear,” she said as she scooted in toward Isabel, lowering her head with eyes darting up toward the path ahead and then back down to her feet. “This was a terrible idea. I should not have come!”

  Isabel and Mary exchanged confused glances and then looked ahead. Isabel's heart skipped a beat. Mr. Farrow was riding toward them on a gleaming chestnut.