When Isobel woke she was alone, the trays had vanished and she might almost have thought she’d imagined the whole thing apart from a delicious ache between her legs which told her she was no longer a girl—but a woman.
Today was her wedding day, she had never been so happy in her whole life. To be marrying the man she loved, who had shown her by his actions last night that he felt the same way, was something to celebrate.
The sound of water being poured into her bath meant she must rise immediately. Where was Mary? Her abigail was usually there with her morning chocolate long before this. Isobel leapt out of bed shocked to see the tell-tale blood stain on the sheets. She had pre-empted her wedding night, her relatives would be scandalized but she didn’t care.
Alexander had come to her because he knew how scared she was. By making love to her last night he’d demonstrated his care for her. She was the luckiest girl in England and in two short hours she would be his wife— nothing could spoil her joy in the day.
Impatiently she rang the bell that stood beside the bed. Mary could remove the evidence and keep it out of sight until tomorrow; with luck her secret would remain just that. The dressing room door opened and a strange young woman came in. She had pinched features and sharp knowing eyes.
“You rang, my lady? I’ve your bath ready; his grace said you would not be requiring breakfast this morning.”
“Where is my abigail? I don’t wish to be attended by strangers this morning.”
The woman curtsied stiffly; her lips curled but the smile did not reach her eyes. “Watkins left here first thing with the luggage. I’m now your personal maid. His grace appointed me himself to take care of you in future.”
Isobel turned away too upset to remonstrate with this supercilious intruder. Had everything they’d shared last night meant nothing? The man she thought Alexander to be would not have dismissed Mary without speaking to her first. He had sent away the only familiar face in this barracks of a building. She would be alone with a stranger and she was no longer sure of his feelings.
In frosty silence she allowed this unwanted woman to help her dress. Her joy in the day had gone. She couldn’t bear to think Mary thought this was her decision. This would mean Mary’s husband Sam, who was her personal groom, would have gone as well.
As soon as the last pin was pushed into her hair she stalked from the room and along the wide passageway. She could hear the church bells ringing. Newcomb had its own place of worship in the grounds and she was to be married there.
Her parents were waiting for her in the vast entrance hall. There was no sign of her other relatives. Their presence would have alleviated the tension, lifted her spirits just a little. “Mama, Papa, did you know Rochester has dismissed Mary? She’s gone without even the opportunity to say goodbye and after all she’s been to me these past years.”
“Isobel, we had no idea she was not to remain here. These things are no longer under our control; you must abide by your husband’s decisions in future. I’m sure you’ll soon come to appreciate the superior woman he has appointed for you.”
“I haven’t bothered to ask her name for she’s a stiff and unpleasant person. I shall insist that she is dismissed, but not today. In a week or two I’ll ask my husband to reinstate Mary and Sam as a favour to me.”
Her father scowled at her as if she had no right to criticise the man who’d given him a fortune in exchange for his daughter. “I wish to hear no more of your complaints, miss. You’re tardy and Rochester has been awaiting your appearance in the church for five minutes already.”
He offered his arm and she had no recourse but to take it. Before she had time to object she was being marched firmly down the aisle and standing beside her future husband. A wave of despair engulfed her when he turned to glance at her. This was not the Alexander who had made love to her so passionately— this was the autocratic man she’d hoped never to see again.
Somehow she mumbled through her vows, smiled bravely during the wedding breakfast but far too soon was at his side to wave her parents and relatives away. Without thinking she turned to him imploringly. “My lord, I shall miss my family sorely. May I invite them to stay later in the year?”
He shook his head. “No, not this year, my dear. Perhaps they can come when you have produced a child for them to dote on.” His arm was hard around her waist and she was firmly escorted inside. “Go upstairs and change into your habit, I thought we could ride around the estate this afternoon. I know you explored the park yesterday, but I should like to show the rest to you myself.”
“I should enjoy that above everything, I shan’t be long. Do we expect further visitors today?”
His eyes darkened and he lowered his voice so the ever present butler could not overhear. “I thought you might be tired this afternoon and wish to rest.”
His meaning was unmistakable; there would be little rest involved of that she was quite certain. Despite her sadness at his high-handed actions she could not help smiling at the thought of what was to come. His lips curved and he dropped a light kiss on her brow.
The weeks passed in much the same fashion. During the day he was distant, always aware of his position, never letting down his guard for a second. However, when he came to her room at night he was her darling Alexander, and she lived with these moments. He was assiduous in his attentions and she prayed she would not conceive immediately. If his visits stopped because of her pregnancy she would have nothing to look forward to.
Maynard, the supercilious housekeeper, appeared at noon each day with the menu but Isobel was not required to do more than read it. She had nothing to do apart from playing the pianoforte, painting water-colours of the grounds and reading her novels. Alexander usually rode out with her but during these rides she learnt little about the estate as they stayed within the park. Sometimes he was absent and she didn’t ask where he went. On the days he did not come to her at night he remained in his study drinking heavily.
When her monthly courses appeared for the third time things changed. Even his lovemaking became less passionate as if already he considered her incapable of producing the much wished for child. That this was her fault was indisputable. After all, had he not already fathered two children during his first union?
In October a group of his friends arrived for the shooting and hunting. They were mostly objectionable gentlemen and she did her best to remain aloof from them. She wrote to her aunt and uncle and heard that Petunia had accepted an offer from a young man of impeccable pedigree, deep pockets and unbounded love. Dearly she wished she could change places with her cousin as material possessions were nothing without affection.
Alexander removed to Town returning a few times each month to do his duty by her. The joy she had once found in his lovemaking was fading. Although he was still more relaxed in the privacy of her chambers he no longer seemed as approachable as he had in the beginning. It became painfully apparent his sole reason for coming to her bed was to conceive a child.
As the festive season approached she asked Alexander what celebrations would take place at Newcomb.
He shook his head. “Nothing at all, Isobel. We attend church and give Christmas boxes to the staff— apart from that we have no traditions.”
“May I arrange to decorate the house? Could we not invite our neighbours? I know it is customary to leave a newly married couple alone initially, but more than six months have passed since we were married and still we have no visitors or invitations.”
“I thought you understood I don’t entertain here. The ball and garden party were exceptions to my rule. I organised the events for you in order to mark your wedding day. If you wish to socialize then you must come to London for the Season.” He smiled sadly. “It would appear there is no reason for you to be confined to the country.”
She flushed; there was nothing she could say. She was apparently unable to have children, small wonder he had little interest in her. To be saddled with a barren wife after he had paid so much to get her, must rankle.
“I’ve no wish to go to London, thank you. However, I have no objection if you prefer to be elsewhere at Christmas.”
His eyebrows shot up at her impertinent comment. “There’s nothing to keep me here. I shall do as you suggest and go to Town, and you must please yourself whilst I’m gone. I shall arrange for your allowance to be paid in coin in future. You have my permission to spend it as you wish.”
When his carriage left the next morning she remained in her bed chamber unwilling to appear before the staff with blotched eyes and running nose. One thing she could do with the pile of gold he’d given her was send for Mary and Sam. She was sure they could find themselves a cottage nearby and bring her beloved dogs with them. Being able to visit with them would give her something to fill her empty days.
Sam and Mary were safely installed in a cottage which could be reached by walking through Home Wood. It needed some repairs to make it habitable but these would soon be done. Ebony and Othello were overjoyed to be reunited with her.
“Mary, I shall come as often as I can to walk the dogs. However, I must be vigilant as Foster, Maynard and the unpleasant girl who has replaced you, spy on me.”
“I’m surprised Lord Drummond did not refuse his permission for us to take the dogs. But he seemed happy for them to go and made no enquiries as to where we were taking them.”
“He obviously does not believe I’ll ever return to Bracken Hall to visit. He and my husband must have come to an arrangement on that score.”
“Will you be requiring luncheon today?”
Isobel frowned. “Rochester is bringing down a group of his friends for the shooting. The Season will be starting next month. Why could they not remain where they were?”
“You mustn’t be tardy; the duke will wish you to be there to greet his guests when they arrive and you must change.”
“Indeed I must. I shan’t be able to visit until he and his guests have gone. Take care of yourselves and my dogs.”
The wind was bitter. Sam had predicted there would be snow before the day was out. She prayed it would come soon and prevent the unwanted visitors from setting out from London. She no longer looked forward to Alexander’s return for there had been no further glimpses of the person she fell in love with— the tender and passionate man who had shared her bed for the first three months of their union. The interludes they spent in bed were still most enjoyable as her body always responded willingly to his touch, but she believed he was no longer fully engaged in what they did.
She hurried in through the side door hoping to return to her chambers without comment. She was waylaid by Maynard with the usual supercilious sneer on her face.
“Your grace, I’ve been waiting for you to approve the menus for the visitors.”
Isobel stiffened and for once did not apologise. “It’s of no interest to me what you have been doing, Maynard. It is your duty to be there when I wish to see you not the other way round. Kindly remember that in future.”
The woman recoiled, unused to being reprimanded. She curtsied, her navy bombazine rustling noisily. “I beg your pardon, your grace. When will it be convenient for you to see the menus?”
“I’ve no interest in them for whatever I say will be ignored. In future don’t bother me with such trivia.” Isobel walked off wishing she had held her tongue, Her duty was to view these things and Alexander would be most displeased when he heard. That he would know was certain. The staff at Newcomb were loyal to him and still treated her as an interloper even after almost a year as their mistress.
She took the little used back stairs and braced herself for another confrontation. Cranford, the abigail Alexander had appointed, had taken to setting out her gowns without requesting permission to do so. Every morning Isobel felt obliged to insist something else was fetched, although if she was honest quite often the ensemble selected by her maid was a better choice than the one she selected for herself.
Her bath was waiting in the small, tiled anteroom used for this purpose. She hastily disrobed glad she’d forbidden Cranford to enter during her ablutions. Today the warm water failed to soothe her and she did not linger. Quickly donning the necessary underpinnings she stepped through to her dressing-room to see what had been put out today.
“I thought the blue velvet afternoon-dress might be suitable, your grace. I don’t believe you’ve worn it more than once and certainly not when there have been guests at Newcomb.”
Isobel was too dispirited to argue. “It will do. Please dress my hair plainly; I require no ribbons or feathers.”
In silence she sat whilst her hair was arranged to her satisfaction, then raising and lowering her arms when necessary. After collecting her cashmere shawl she left her apartment without a second glance at herself in the mirror. What did it matter if she looked her best? Alexander no longer noticed and he was the only gentleman she wished to approve of her appearance.
She was standing dutifully in the freezing entrance hall when the party arrived. Alexander strode in first and smiled briefly before removing his caped coat and tossing it to the waiting footman.
“My dear, that’s a most becoming gown. The weather has deteriorated and I thought we might have to abandon our trip. However, we are here now, but I doubt there’ll be much shooting.”
“Did any of the wives accompany the gentleman this time, your grace?”
“Unfortunately this visit was arranged too quickly to allow the ladies to join us. It might be better if you did not dine downstairs but that’s entirely up to you.”
Her heart lifted; perhaps this gesture showed he still thought of her a little. “Thank you, my lord. I would much prefer to remain apart when there are no ladies present.” The gentlemen would drink too much and behave accordingly—far better to be safe in her apartment until they left. There was something she needed to tell him but now was not the time as, accompanied by a flurry of snow, the gentlemen poured in.
She retreated halfway up the grand staircase; from there she curtsied and bid them welcome before hurrying back to the sanctuary of our own chambers. Her dinner was brought to her on a tray. As always it was beautifully cooked but stone cold. The kitchen was so far from the main part of the house she rarely ate a meal that was more than warm.
The mantel clock struck nine. If she slipped down now maybe she could find Alexander in his study and tell him she was unavailable tonight. Her monthly course had arrived that very morning. He usually timed his visits better; she was regular as clockwork so it was easy for him to avoid the few days she could not welcome him to her bed.
There had seemed no necessity to change so she was still wearing the blue gown from the afternoon. The wall sconces were lit along the wide passageway. There was no need to carry a candlestick at Newcomb unless one wished to go downstairs when all the staff were abed.
The noise coming from the drawing-room gave her due warning what to expect if she encountered any of the inebriated gentlemen within. A footman stepped out and bowed.
“Is the duke in his study?”
“I believe him to be in the billiard room, your grace.”
Botheration! She could hardly go there to speak to him, she had better write him a note and leave this in his dressing-room. Hopefully he would not be so foxed he would be unable to read it when he retired. She was about to return when a gentleman holding two glasses of wine staggered out from the drawing-room.
“Your grace, have a drink with me. We missed your lovely presence this evening.” He wove his way towards her. She could not get past him. Several other guests appeared in the doorway to watch the confrontation.
“Thank you, sir, but I’ve no wish for a glass. If you’ll kindly allow me to pass, I wish to return to my apartments.”
He leered at her and thrust one of the glasses into her hand; she had no option but to take it or allow it to smash onto the tiles. She waited her expression icy, for him to move. To her horror he lurched forward and with his free hand attempted to touch her face. Her reaction was instinctive. She flung the glass of wine into his face. This was enough to stop him momentarily. Dodging past the spluttering gentleman she shot up the stairs before he could do her more harm. The whoops and cheers that followed made her fear they would decide to give chase.
Breathless she tumbled into her sitting room and for the first time since her arrival at Newcomb locked the doors behind her. She rang for her maid; the sooner she was safely in her bed the better. “I shan’t require you again this evening, Cranford.”
She settled back with the latest novel from Hatchards and became immersed in her romance and quite forgot she had left her external doors locked.
Alexander heard the shouting and came to investigate. According to his cronies Isobel had thrown a glass of wine over Bartram for no other reason than that he had failed to move aside quickly enough to please her.This was unacceptable behaviour. He’d already had to smooth the ruffled feathers of his housekeeper because of her incivility. Tonight he would make it clear to her he would not tolerate breaches of etiquette.
His head was thumping— he couldn’t recall exactly how many bottles of claret he’d drunk over dinner or how much brandy he’d consumed since then. Drink numbed the senses, dulled his disappointment with his wife and helped him to accept that he would never have another child to cherish. He paused and leant his burning face against the wall. He closed his eyes expecting to see an image of his beloved Eleanor, instead a picture of Isobel filled his mind. He rubbed his eyes angrily. No—he would not let her creep into his heart. He had no room for love in his life. He’s done with this emotion for it only led to unbearable pain.
He tried her parlour door. He rattled but it refused to budge. This door was never locked; it must be jammed. He walked along the passageway and tried to enter Isobel’s bed chamber. This door also did not move. Furious he hammered on the panel. He would not be denied entry to any room in his own house.
He heard the patter of bare feet told on the boards. What was the matter with her? Did she not have a maid to do these things? The key turned but the door was not opened. At least his wife had the sense not to appear in the passageway in her night clothes. He stepped in and glared at the young woman who was staring nervously from beneath the bed covers.
“Alexander, I came down to tell you that I am not available this week.”
He felt a flicker of remorse that this lovely young woman was reduced to hiding in her bedchamber in her own home. “I know that, I am not a simpleton. I am quite able to keep note of the date. I came here to discuss the matter of your unbecoming display downstairs.”
“That man was going to touch me. Would you wish me to stand there and let him do so?”
He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts—she was quite right. He had not given the incident sufficient attention. He did not doubt her veracity one minute. “No, of course not. But in future you will not respond in such an unacceptable way. It will be the talk of the town, I dislike having my good name brought into disrepute.”
If he did not remove himself hastily he would cast up his accounts on her carpet, this would not enhance his attraction. Momentarily he was ashamed by his lack of control.
“I apologise, Alexander, it won’t happen again. You don’t look at all well. I wish you did not drink so much, it is ruining your health.”
Her comment hit a raw nerve. “Madam, let us get this quite clear. If something similar occurs again don’t expect me to be so lenient.” He gulped; he must get to his room before he disgraced himself.
Isobel watched him go and her heart twisted. Her husband was no longer the man she had fallen in love with. He was gambling heavily as well as drinking too much. How long would it be before he was unfaithful? As she curled up under the covers she prayed his threat was an idle one, something he would regret when he was sober. She good forgive his drunkenness, but if ever he mistreated her she would hate him. All hope would be gone. She would let him go to the devil anyway he chose.