by Carla René
As Izzy picked at her scone and continued in thought, more realizations hit her as to exactly what was to come. There would be no more high teas with society’s most fashionable, for what reason would they have to sup with the Audleys now? In most of these societal circles, it was their money and their social clubs, also based on money, that were the only things they held in common. And what of the servants? With no money coming into the household, there would be no way to keep the household staff on in their employ, so Mother would eventually have to dismiss each one, and some of them had been with the family since Isabella was in diapers! They were more than servants—they were family to her, and had she and her mother not lost enough family for a lifetime? Of course with nothing to wear, there would be no more society ball invites. And with no invites, there would be no more suitors, for where would one have occasion to meet an upstanding young gentleman if one were residing in the poor house and working in a factory? Oh my dear Lord. How will I ever be able to face Mr. Whentworth again? He must never, ever find out. He already treats me as if I am incapable of thinking for myself. What is to be his opinion of us now that we are no longer his social equal? Oh my goodness! His sister, Miss Whentworth was right about everything, which means that when he called upon us to take tea, he already knew about our situation! What he must have thought of us, and how was he able to keep from laughing? I will never be able to speak to him again for as long as I live. What if I am unable to return to Radcliffe and complete my studies! And worse yet, what if both Mother and I are forced to find jobs in a local sweat trade? Oh, this cannot be borne!
Tears streamed down her face as the self-pity began to roll. Unable to finish eating her scone, she no longer cared who noticed her tribulation and she cried openly. While she admitted to herself that she thought, at times, society’s general rules superfluous and high-handed, still, it was all she knew, and without it she would no longer be able to define who she was. Perhaps that was the reason her mother had wanted to protect her from this torment for as long as she possibly could.
“No,” she said. “I will not take up for that woman. Not today. She has done enough damage for one lifetime.”
Izzy realized that during her ruminations, she had picked up her nib and begun writing her thoughts in her journal. She suddenly began to feel lighter, in spite of the fact that she still did not have an answer to the anxiety plaguing her future. So she continued to write—faster and faster as she found solace in the privacy of each page. Now she understood what it was that Father had found so therapeutic in his own journal writing, and that’s when she remembered she had exited the house with not only her own journal, but also his.
But her plans of solace were cut short. As the bell to the front door tinkled, she looked up and her mouth flew open.
Chapter 13
Round And Round We Go
Round and Round We Go (Chapter Thirteen)
“May I join you?” said Mr. Whentworth.
Izzy sat motionless, hoping perhaps that Mr. Whentworth had not seen her, there, directly in front of him, not more than three feet away, staring into her eyes. How good could his eyesight be?
As he removed his hat and sat in the booth, he said, “Wait, I wish to retract that question. If given the choice, you will escape with my dignity in tow and I will never catch you.” His eyes twinkled in merriment.
Still Izzy said nothing.
As Mr. Whentworth searched her face for some clue, that is when he noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks. His concern was immediately apparent. “Miss Audley, are you unwell? Has something happened?”
Izzy could feel her cheeks begin to flame hot, but she remained composed. “Why do you not tell me, Mr. Whentworth?”
“Pardon me?”
“You are not hard of hearing. You know exactly what I said.”
“Perhaps. But I do not understand why you are asking. Has something happened?”
“Do not insult me any further, Mr. Whentworth,” said Izzy. She gathered up her things and started to excuse herself.
But Mr. Whentworth stood directly in front of her and blocked her path of ingress.
With no place to go, Izzy sat down and avoided Mr. Whentworth’s gaze by staring out the picture window, noticing the brilliant crystals of snow in the afternoon sun.
Mr. Whentworth softened his tone. “Miss Audley, please. I implore you. Has something happened to your mother? Is she in good health?”
At the mention of her mother, Izzy could feel the tears begin again under their own volition.
This did not go unnoticed by Mr. Whentworth. Suddenly taking stock of their public circumstance, he proffered the option of accompanying him to somewhere with a little more privacy. “Join me in my carriage, Miss Audley. I will have my footman drive to no place in particular, and there we will have all the privacy we need.”
Izzy stood, thus giving her consent and Mr. Whentworth escorted her to his waiting carriage just outside the Café door.
Once safely ensconced inside the warmer carriage, Mr. Whentworth waited for Izzy to situate herself, take a deep breath, and begin her account of the week’s events; from her first moments in town with the mysterious Peacock Lady, to the chestnut vendor, to the visit with Mrs. Hastings, to yes, even the encounter with Mr. Whentworth’s own sister. She spared no detail, no thought, no question, and no one’s feelings.
When she finally came to the end of her tale, it was Mr. Whentworth who then took a turn at staring out onto the crystalline snow, unsure of how to proceed or even what to say, for Miss Audley at this moment appeared to be inconsolable.
It was Izzy who finally broke the silence. “Are you going to be a statue, or are you going to respond? Please, do me the courtesy of saying something.”
Mr. Whentworth was now in a precarious situation. He had to choose his words carefully, for he did not wish to hurt someone who was fast becoming more to him than a passing acquaintance. But he also did not wish to betray a confidence that would soon play into this little drama that was unfolding before him. He feared if he were to play dumb, then it would certainly offend Miss Audley’s raw sensibilities. But if he were to share what he knew, then he feared it would do more harm than good for the time being.
Then, it came to him. “Miss Audley, I will confess that I had heard something of this nature through the town gossips. You know people, they love to whisper.”
“Then why on Earth did you not come to me about it?” said Izzy.
Mr. Whentworth’s voice softened. “Miss Audley, I just did not want to believe that there was any truth to it.”
This reply seemed to douse some of Izzy’s rage and she lowered her head. “Oh, Mr. Whentworth, I am truly beside myself, and I will confess that inwardly I buck against the ridiculous rules of society as much as anyone with common sense, but at the same time, it is all I have ever known, and without that barometer, I just do not know how I will be able to measure up again, in my own eyes.”
This was something Mr. Whentworth understood all too well, for society seemed to place more pressure on the women of a family to marry well, since they could not inherit a fortune on their own. But for a gentleman such as Mr. Whentworth, once he gained his inheritance, a man was free to find a wife in good societal standing and breeding, or, not. The choice was clearly his own, and no one would fault him for choosing to remain single. Growing up with two very well-connected women in his own family, Mr. Whentworth had learned much more about this topic than he felt he might ever need in one lifetime. And while the rules in America were modeled after but slightly more relaxed than those in his London hometown, both sets still considered a woman to be that of a spinster if she did not have a doorstep full of eligible suitors and offers of marriage forthcoming by the time she had turned twenty-four. If a woman had not become engaged by that year of age, then it was globally accepted and understood that she probably would never marry in her lifetime, and would live with whatever parent remained.
“May I ask a question of a person
al nature, if you do not deem it inappropriate? You are wholly welcome to decline.”
Izzy signed. “Go ahead. I have nothing to hide now.”
“How is it that you finally learned the entire truth?”
“Oh.”
“As I said, you are welcome to decline, and I hope you do not feel my question to be too unfitting.”
“It was quite by accident. This morning after Mother left to go to hospital, I decided I did not like looking at the house without holiday decorations, so I went to our attic and began searching, but my attentions were hijacked by the bookshelves, and then by one in particular… ”
Suddenly, she stopped, a horrified look on her face.
“Miss Audley? What is it?”
“Nothing. It is nothing, and I fear the hour has become late and I must be getting back home. Would you kindly have your footman take me home now?”
Mr. Whentworth did not like the mood that had overtaken Izzy; she reminded him of a wilderness cat trapped in a cage, and he became concerned for her well-being. “Miss Audley, I will confess, that I would like to help you and your mother in this most trying of circumstances if it is at all possible to do so, but I feel I cannot successfully intervene if I do not know the entire truth. Will you at least trust me that much?”
“It is not a matter of trusting your character, Mr. Whentworth, it is about your family connections. You come from one of the most estimable families in this town, and I would rather die than allow you to be witness to more of my family’s public humiliation,” she screamed. “Now please take me home!”
Mr. Whentworth stiffened. “I am only trying to help. I meant no offense.”
“Kindly do me the honor of not placating me, Mr. Whentworth. I am not an infant.”
“I did not say you were. But you are clearly agitated, and I truly had no wish to exacerbate that.”
“Well, then, kindly keep your remarks to yourself.”
Mr. Whentworth’s face grew hot. “Why have you chosen now to pick a fight with probably the one person in this town who will still bother to associate with you?” and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“How dare you! How utterably insolent and brazen you are, and I do not need this! You have absolutely no room to make snap judgments, do you? You have probably never known a day of want in your entire life, and now you deem yourself qualified to give me advice? I want to thank you for adding insult to my already deep injury, Mr. Whentworth. You sit there with your college degree, your job security, your connections and your eighty-thousand a year and think you are qualified to give me lessons in keeping friends.”
“Miss Audley, I… ”
“… are you truly stupid, or just really that naïve?”
“I am afraid I do not understand… ”
“Your family, Mr. Whentworth. Are you too naïve to realize that it was your own mother and sister that helped spread the word about our situation? With every lash of their tongues they added fuel to this already precarious tinderbox. Go pledge your allegiance elsewhere, for I do not have time to be insulted thus.”
Mr. Whentworth sat back in the carriage and said nothing. Apparently, Miss Audley had been correct in her assumption that it was his own flesh & blood that had helped to actively damage their reputation. This much he knew to be true from his conversation with his mother and Katherine only days previous. But what could he do about it now? If he distanced himself from his family at the joy of helping the Audleys through this trying time, then he would anger the two women who meant the most to him, and had the biggest influence on his life and connections. But if he turned his back on the Audleys now, then his former statement would also be true: he was probably the only one still speaking to them, rather than about them, and his character did not allow him to be pleased with anything else.
And with that, he realized he had just answered his own question. So, at the risk of betraying a confidence and losing his job, too, he decided a vagary would be best. “Miss Audley, you are right. I have never been in your boots, nor would I enjoy it if I were. But I also have never turned my back on a friend, and I do not choose now the time to do so. I will say, that I am asking you to hold on. Be hopeful and of good cheer. This situation might not be as abject as you think.”
Izzy stared wide-eyed at him. “Mr. Whentworth, what are you on about?”
“I am just saying to not jump to conclusions too quickly. You know how life can change from one minute to the next; fortunes are sometimes lost and won again in the span of a heartbeat. Life is unpredictable that way. I am just asking you to not be so disheartened, that is all. I do not like to see you so upset. Your beauty only shines when you smile.”
“And there you go again, stating what you feel is best for me without consulting me.”
“Oh, Miss Audley, I sometimes think I already know you better than I know myself, and I have lived with me forever,” he said, hoping a slight smile would lighten an otherwise tense mood.
For a moment, Izzy was silent, as if contemplating his words. Then she said, “Mr. Whentworth, I am tired, and I am hungry.”
Mr. Whentworth immediately turned to speak to his footman. Izzy could not make out what he said to the man, but she felt the direction of the carriage turn and hoped that meant she would soon be at her own doorstep.
“Miss Audley, allow me to take you to dinner at my favorite restaurant. The chef and I are old friends, and he always saves me a private, curtained table in the back where we can gain sustenance as well as continue talking. You are so distraught right now, that as a gentleman, I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone with your mother in that lonely, empty house. Please, I am asking you to allow me to help share your burden this evening.”
She protested. “But why on Earth would you still be seen in public with me? You do not need to damage your reputation in such a haphazard manner, especially when it is not just your own, but also that of your family.”
“Please, Miss Audley, sometimes you speak too much for your own good. Will you allow me to do this for you?”
Izzy, too tired now to continue, only nodded her head in affirmation. Then she turned and stared out the window during the rest of the ride, no longer able to make out the beautiful snow crystals for the tears that were stinging her eyes.
Mr. Whentworth had been correct: the restaurant’s prime booth had been saved for Mr. Whentworth, and was, indeed, quite private. Once they were situated in their respective places, the heavy draperies were drawn, the gas table lamps lit, and a large pitcher of brewed tea immediately brought to their table. After the waiter poured them each a cup, added the milk and exited with their orders, Mr. Whentworth leaned closer to Izzy and watched her drink her tea. “Thank you for allowing me to do this for you.”
She was so overcome with emotion again, that she could still only nod at her companion. But she enjoyed her tea. She could feel each golden sip fortifying her exhausted body. It was like an elixir.
“It is good to see the color beginning to return to your cheeks,” said Mr. Whentworth.
“I admit, I am beginning to feel more like myself again,” said Izzy.
“And just in time, too.”
At that moment the waiter drew back the draperies and set out their courses. Mr. Whentworth had ordered for them both, and the waiter delivered two plates of Maine lobster with drawn butter, asparagus with Hollandaise, and french bread, straight from their ovens. Mr. Whentworth, an amateur wine officianado, had chosen a White Riesling to accompany dinner, and he could not have been more pleased.
When Izzy saw the yummy repast, Mr. Whentworth could not help but laugh out loud at how large her eyes became. “I told you, this is my favorite place to eat, and the food is worth the wait and the price.”
Izzy, her stomach in full complaint at the smell of the tasty treats, sipped the Riesling and then, with Mr. Whentworth’s nod of approval, began her meal with a hearty mouthful of the lobster. She could not have been more pleased at its sweet taste
, accompanied by the savory of the butter.
Mr. Whentworth, seeming to intercept her thoughts, nodded, too. “Yes, I agree; this is scrumptious,” and both companions laughed.
The meal continued for nearly three hours, and conversation eventually returned to topics of a more festive nature. As they were exiting after Mr. Whentworth paid their bill and helped Izzy into his carriage, it was then that he asked her the one thing he had been meaning to all day long.
“So. Why did you not answer my two letters?”
Izzy stopped short. “What do you mean? I have received nothing from you.”
“Are you certain? As soon as I returned home from the Blackberry Patch Café that evening with Miss Hastings, I penned a hasty note giving you the details of why I had been her escort and could not have dinner with you. I put it in the next morning’s post.”
Izzy was surprised. “Mr. Whentworth, I am sorry, but I received nothing. In fact, I have not received anything in the post for nearly three days now.”
“That is strange, because when I did not hear from you yesterday on the matter of my first letter, I again penned a second one, requesting a time we could have dinner. And you are sure you did not receive that one, either?”
“Mr. Whentworth, I would have remembered seeing something, anything from you in the post, but I did not. As it turns out, I have not even received my invitation yet for the Christmas ball. But on second thought, I do not have an escort and cannot see someone taking particular pity on me by extending an invitation.”
