Whispers of Light

by Monroe, Jennifer

  The carriage came to a stop in front of him, and the driver jumped down from his seat to give Laurence a quick bow. Then he placed the step and opened the door, bowing again as he reached a hand out to lend aid to the occupants.

  When Mrs. Barnet alighted, everything else around Laurence disappeared as he focused on the woman. She wore a celadon riding dress with tiny white flowers embroidered on the lapels and white lace at the cuffs. A black hat with a yellow ribbon that matched her dress shaded her features, and Laurence thought no other woman could have been lovelier than she.

  “Your Grace,” she said as she dipped a curtsy to him.

  Another young woman followed from the carriage. He blinked in surprise as Miss Hannah Lambert came to stand beside her sister. It never occurred to him she would come with a chaperon.

  He bowed to the two women, wondering why his tongue was so tied in knots. However, when Mrs. Barnet smiled, his worry dissipated, and his tongue unraveled. “Mrs. Barnet. Miss Hannah. Shall we go inside? Or perhaps we should head to the stables first?” Then he glanced at the horses tied to the carriage. “Oh, I see you have brought your own mounts.”

  “We did,” Mrs. Barnet replied. “With little time for riding, I thought bringing our own horses would be best. You know how temperamental horses can be with unfamiliar riders.”

  Laurence chuckled. “Indeed.” He turned to Weber. “Would you see my horse brought about?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied before snapping his fingers at a nearby footman, who rushed off to do Laurence’s bidding.

  When Laurence returned his gaze to Mrs. Barnet, he saw she was eying the basket in his hands. “Some food and drink for us all,” he said, and then felt relief as Mrs. Barnet smiled again. If Lady Lambert asked him in that moment if he would accept her offer to marry this woman, he knew what the answer would be.

  Chapter Five

  As she waited for the duke’s horse to be brought from the stables, Isabel wondered at the odd addition of the picnic basket the man held in his hands. It was not that the gesture was unkind; however, she hoped the duke did not have any romantic notions about this outing. When she glanced over at Hannah, she was panicked to see her sister peering from the basket to Isabel and back again, as if she had the same thought as Isabel. Which only worried her that much more.

  The duke seemed to be surprised that Hannah had accompanied her, and Isabel could not help but feel a sense of relief that she was not the only one looking at her need for a chaperon as an absurdity. However, after her quick appraisal of how he wore his dark riding coat and buff breaches made her a bit breathless, she realized that perhaps her mother had been in the right in sending Hannah. The insufferable woman!

  As the duke untied the horses from the back of the carriage, Hannah leaned in and whispered, “Does he intend to get you drunk on wine?”

  Isabel felt her cheeks heat. “Hush!” she hissed back. “What nonsense you speak. Now, stop teasing.”

  Hannah gave a derisive sniff. “It is what men are prone to do, or at least that is what I have heard.”

  With a glare, Isabel replied, “It is simply an act of kindness and nothing more. Now, enough of your balderdash.” She punctuated her words with a firm nod in order to keep her sister quiet as a stable hand joined them, a dark and tall thoroughbred in tow.

  The duke brought over Isabel and Hannah’s horses, a broad smile on his lips. Isabel had never seen the man smile so, and she had to remind herself that he had few friends, if any. The picnic basket, much like the riding invitation, was meant as a gesture of goodwill and nothing more. She would do as her mother counseled and simply enjoy the time and do what she could to make the man happy, for it was the right thing to do.

  “Allow me to aid you,” the duke said as Isabel placed a foot on the step the stable hand placed beside her horse, Winterfall.

  All white, the mare had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday, and the horse had gone with her when she married; a familiarity in a place that was new to her. When she returned to Scarlett Hall, Winterfall also came with her. She was glad for this outing, for she had neglected the poor animal as of late.

  The duke helped her mount the horse, not an easy task in a sidesaddle. Not that she had ever ridden astride; no lady with an ounce of respect ever rode astride. Unless she was a rebellious Juliet, of course.

  “Miss Lambert?” the duke asked Hannah, who had attempted to mount her horse, Teardrop, without aid, much to Isabel’s angst, and with little success.

  “Hannah,” Isabel said, attempting to keep her voice even, “allow His Grace to aid you.” What had come over her sister? Isabel prayed the girl would not take up behaving like Juliet. As luck would have it, however, Hannah accepted the duke’s help and was soon mounted upon her horse and riding over beside Isabel.

  Despite whatever issues the man had with his leg, he mounted his horse with little trouble—and with the aid of the step she and Hannah had used. Once he was upon his horse, however, he groaned, a grimace on his face as his hand went to his leg. Her heart went out to the man, for she could see the pain he endured, but rather than embarrass him, she fiddled with her reins as if she took no notice of his discomfort.

  He had seen she had noticed, however, for he said, “I apologize.” His cheeks reddened considerably, as well.

  She shifted in her seat as if to find a more comfortable position. “Sometimes I wish I did not have to deal with all these skirts,” she said with a smile. Then she turned to the duke. “I am sorry, Your Grace. Did you say something?”

  “No,” the duke replied, and his sigh of relief did not escape her notice.

  The stablehand tied the basket to the cantle of his saddle and then looked up expectantly at the duke, who waved him away.

  Soon, they were riding down the drive side by side. “It is a pleasure having you here as my guests,” the duke said.

  “We are honored,” Isabel replied. Hannah echoed her words. “The weather is ideal. You selected the perfect day for an outing.”

  “Perhaps luck is with me,” the duke said with a light laugh. “Or is it that you and your sister have brought luck with you this day?”

  Isabel offered a polite smile and then turned right on the main road, leaving the house and stables behind them. Although she had reservations about coming out today, she was glad she did. For the first time in a long time, her mind was at peace.

  “Miss Hannah,” the duke said, “are you looking forward to the upcoming season?”

  Of all the questions the man could ask, Isabel had hoped it would not be this one. Although she trusted Hannah to watch her tongue, she did not wish to risk it and therefore spoke for her.

  “She is quite excited, Your Grace. It is all about which she and her friends speak. The way they carry on, I worry she will leave for London early just so she is able to spend more time there.”

  Hannah frowned, but the duke let out a laugh. “My sister Harriet loved the London season,” he said. Then his smile faltered. “No matter. We are not here to discuss her.”

  Isabel recalled the former Miss Redbrook. She was a disagreeable woman who preferred rudeness not only toward her peers but to her family, as well. Although Isabel suspected the duke had the same dislike for his sister, it would never be appropriate to speak ill of one’s sister in his presence. She could not help but be curious, nonetheless.

  The conversation lagged as they crested a hill, and Isabel gazed over a magnificent sight. Stretching before them was a large valley with a spattering of small cottages surrounded by green spotted with yellow flowers and white sheep.

  “I have never seen such a view,” Isabel said with a sigh. “This is truly marvelous. Hannah, do you not agree?”

  “Yes,” her sister replied. “It is like the scenes about which the poets write.”

  “That tree down there?” the duke said. “The large one surrounded by the others?”

  Isabel narrowed her eyes and followed where he pointed. Indeed, one tree rose above
a dozen or so clustered around it. “Yes, I see it.”

  “Let us ride there, and then we will rest.”

  Although Isabel had come on this outing as a way to appease her mother, she found she was enjoying it much more than she had expected. To have a day that took her mind off Arthur was a blessing in itself. Therefore, as she followed the duke down the other side of the hill, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Yes, today was a blessing, indeed.

  ***

  The duke flicked the blanket and placed it on the ground in a shaded glen beneath the trees the duke had pointed out at the top of the hill. He had chosen a place with trees on three sides and the expanse of the valley floor on the other. It made for a wonderful view, as if they were seated in the front row of the theater.

  After placing the basket on the blanket, he glanced around. “Your sister?” he asked in confusion.

  Isabel felt her cheeks heat. Why was she blushing so much? “She has gone off on her own, I am afraid,” she replied, pointing to where Hannah leaned against a tree, her nose already in a book. Despite Isabel’s insistence that she remain, her sister had no interest in conversation with Isabel or the duke.

  “I came to read,” Hannah had whispered while the duke was readying the picnic. “I cannot do that if I must listen to the two of you prattle on about the weather.” Then, much to Isabel’s chagrin, she had turned and with a sinister grin added, “Just keep control of your lust for the man.”

  If the duke had not been so close at hand, she would have given the girl a great tongue-lashing! She expected such behavior from Juliet, but not from her quiet, sensible sister!

  “I thought this spot would be perfect,” the duke said, breaking Isabel from her thoughts. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, yes, Your Grace,” Isabel replied with honesty as she sat on the blanket, spreading her skirts around her. “It is lovely.”

  The duke sat across from her with his legs outstretched. As if absently, he massaged his bad leg. “Would you mind very much addressing me as Laurence?” he asked.

  The question caught her off-guard. How could he expect her to be so intimate as to address him by his Christian name?

  “We are friends, are we not?” he asked. “We have known each other since we were children.”

  Isabel shot a glance toward Hannah, but the woman’s attention was on her book. She and the duke might have been acquainted as children, but friends? Perhaps it was a sign of how few friends the man had. “Well, yes, I suppose we have,” Isabel replied.

  He gave her a wide grin, much like a young boy who has gotten his way. “Then I believe friends should be able to speak freely with each other.” He opened the basket and produced a bottle of wine. Another surprise. “Furthermore, I do not hear my Christian name anymore and I am quite fond of it.” He gave her a wink, and Isabel let out a genuine laugh.

  “Very well, Laurence,” Isabel said, finding the ability to laugh strangely freeing. “You may address me as Isabel then, since we are such close friends.” She could not have put away the grin she wore if she tried.

  As Laurence poured the wine, Isabel took in their surroundings. Cool air brought in by a light breeze made tiny strands of hair tickle the edges of her face under her hat. Birds chirped in nearby trees creating a symphony of song. The sun peeked through the boughs overhead to warm her back. She recalled a time when Arthur had taken her to a similar place just two months after they were married, and she had thought her love for him at the time was endless.

  “There you are,” Laurence said as he held out a wine glass toward her. “Would your sister like a glass?”

  “No, thank you,” Hannah called from her perch beside her tree. So, she wanted to only give the illusion of giving them privacy. Fool girl. As foolish as their mother believing she needed a chaperon in the first place!

  “Would you like a scone? Or perhaps a roll?” He motioned to the basket, and Isabel could not help but smile. Although the man was a duke, he was as hospitable as a vicar.

  “No, thank you.”

  Laurence glanced again in Hannah’s direction. “She does love to read,” he said. “I remember the girl always had a book clutched in her hand the few times I was at Scarlett Hall.” Isabel was surprised how much he remembered from his visits to Scarlett Hall, for she recalled very little.

  She gave a small laugh. “It is true. Although, I would rather she cling to her books than behave in the manner of Juliet.” When she realized that she had said the thought aloud, she scolded herself inwardly. “Forgive me. I did not mean to complain or speak ill of my sisters.”

  “Please,” Laurence said. “If you feel you must share, I will be happy to listen.”

  Isabel considered his offer for a moment. How could she share such personal information about her family with a man she barely knew? However, the need to unburden herself was too strong, and she let out a heavy sigh. “You see,” she said in a lowered voice so Hannah could not hear, “Juliet finds trouble at every turn. I am surprised my hair has not turned gray with the number of times each day I must chastise her.” She looked down at the untouched glass of wine in her hand. “Please understand that I do not mind looking after her. However, I do have my own matters to which I must attend.”

  “The burden of the family oftentimes falls on the eldest child,” Laurence said with a sympathetic nod. “Although I can see it wears on you, your strength remains.”

  Isabel smiled at the compliment. “Thank you,” she said. “I do it for my mother. She does not have the strength to handle much at the moment.” She clamped her jaw shut. Now she had said too much. If Laurence and her mother were to enter into a business agreement, the words may make him reconsider. “Not that Mother does not have a sharp mind, of course. She is still formidable with any task, large or small.”

  Laurence chuckled. “I have no doubt in the woman’s capabilities. Her daughters are a testament to that.”

  Isabel smiled at his words, and any concern about being too open with her thoughts disappeared. He was much different than she expected; not that she had many expectations when he came to mind. He was a duke, and most men in his position tended to be overbearing and haughty, did they not? Yet, here he sat beside her to show her that her assumptions had been wrong.

  “What do you see for your future?”

  “My future?” Isabel asked. This man had a way of catching her off-guard all too often. And yet, it did not make her uncomfortable. “I suppose I have not thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

  “Well, do you plan on traveling? Or do you wish to remain at Scarlett Hall forever?”

  The last stung her heart, for she suspected they rang true. She had no desire to leave her family home, and she hoped to remain in its walls until her death.

  “I have waded in areas that are none of my concern,” he said in a quiet voice. “Please forget I asked.”

  Isabel sighed as she moved her gaze to the surrounding trees. “Your question is not without merit,” she replied. Then she looked at the duke. “I do not have any desire to leave Scarlett Hall. It is my home, and I cannot imagine anywhere else I would rather be.”

  Laurence seemed to consider this for a moment. “I understand. When my parents died…”

  His words trailed off, and Isabel could see the pain in his eyes. Her heart went out to him, and instinctively she reached out and placed a comforting hand over his.

  He stared at her hand for a moment, and she almost removed it. However, something told her to keep it there. “I had thought there was nothing left for me in this world,” he continued. “Of course, there was the dukedom, the estate, but I speak of deeper things. Somehow, I believe you understand my thoughts.”

  Her heart ached as the memories of the deaths of her father and husband washed over her. “I do,” she whispered. “The loss of the conversations once had, the smiles, the embraces. Nothing can replace what was lost.”

  Laurence nodded. “Like you, I do not wish to leave my home.” He let
out a small laugh and tapped his leg.” This is one of the most prevalent reasons.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I have another question, if you do not mind.”

  “Not at all. Please ask.”

  “What is it that prevents you from leaving your home? Or rather, why do you wish to remain?”

  The question bore into her like an arrow from a hunter’s bow. Isabel felt an uncomfortable racing of her heart and mind. She did not wish to continue this conversation, and a need to change the topic forced her to set her still untouched glass of wine on the blanket and stand.

  Laurence hurried to do the same, a confused look on his face. However, he did not ask his question again.

  “The homes across the horizon,” Isabel said, motioning toward the opposite side of the valley, “do you see them?”

  “I do.”

  “Who do you believe resides in them?”

  It was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke. “I imagine families live there. Men who work fields or own their own shops. Women tending children. Indeed, families who are happy at the end of the day.” He turned to her. “What do you see?”

  The hurt inside her threatened to escape in the form of tears, and Isabel held them back as she had learned to do so well in the past few years. “I see families, as well,” she whispered. “However, they do not know the hurt that is to come in the future. Wives will weep for their husbands. Children for a father who will never return.” She then turned to Laurence. “That pain cannot overtake me in Scarlett Hall. In its walls, I am safe from the suffering I had when I was gone. When I lost my father, so had my sisters and mother, and therefore, we carried our mourning together. Then my husband died, and I returned home once again. Those walls are much like the caring arms of a loved one, for they offer me safety and warmth.”

  Isabel had never shared these thoughts with anyone before, and she was not quite certain why she did now. However, Laurence did not judge or argue with her.