Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

A nd so Izzie settled into a routine inside the house. After Archibald left for Nettlethorpe Iron, she would slip into John Nettlethorpe’s sick room. He spent most of the day asleep, so it was a quiet place where she could write. Izzie wouldn’t have said as much to Archibald, but the respite from his parents was a welcome one. Her new in-laws were not unkind, but they were extremely gregarious, and the notion that she occasionally needed some solitude in which to work was one they seemed to have trouble grasping.

When John Nettlethorpe did awaken, they would talk. He mostly didn’t feel well enough for long stretches of conversation, although she enjoyed the stories he told her about Archibald’s childhood, including the one about him disassembling and reassembling the pendulum clock in the corner.

They found themselves at an impasse regarding what he would call her. She invited him to call her Izzie, and he had muttered that Lady Isabella was more befitting. After some bickering, they landed on Lady Izzie , which suited them both well enough.

By now, she had read him her entire novel, The Castle of Brynberian , which he pronounced, “Daft, but a good sort of daft.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied. “That was precisely my aim.”

Now when he awoke, she would read him passages of her current work and ask what he thought should happen next. He often made suggestions that never would have occurred to her, several of which she adopted. There was nothing like a plot twist, after all.

In the afternoons, her family was good about making sure she had visitors. Usually, they included Lucy and Diana, accompanied by either Izzie’s mother or Lady Griselda. Her other siblings put in appearances, too, as did the Duke and Duchess of Trevissick, much to Mr. and Mrs. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy’s delight.

Then, in the evenings, Archibald would be home, so she didn’t lack for company, and she would not have described herself as lonely. But even if her days were enjoyable, there was a sameness to them, and Izzie couldn’t help but wonder how long she could keep this up before she grew restless in her confinement.

Five days after her attempt to visit Nettlethorpe Iron, her sisters Anne and Caro came to call. Lucy and Diana were there, too, along with Lady Griselda, who settled into a plush chair to doze in the corner.

Anne waited until Lucy and Diana were across the room poring over one of Izzie’s new Gothic novels, leaving the three married sisters alone around the tea table. She leaned forward, dropping her voice low. “Are the more intimate aspects of your marriage going well?”

“If you have any questions, you can ask us,” Caro added.

Izzie swallowed. “Things are going well. Archibald is… considerate.”

Her sisters exchanged a knowing look. “Good,” Anne said.

“Your wedding night wasn’t too painful?” Caro asked.

Izzie considered her words carefully. “Archibald is… not lightly made,” she admitted.

Caro made a sympathetic sound. “Poor dear. I should imagine he’s not.”

“But it turned out well in the end,” Izzie hastened to reassure her sisters.

Anne giggled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. But give it a week, and I daresay you’ll be glad your husband is not lightly made .”

Izzie’s shoulders sagged. She had given it a week; in fact, two weeks had passed since her wedding day. Any remnants of her maidenhead had long since been obliterated. The act wasn’t painful, but nor was it exquisitely pleasurable, as it was supposed to be. Although she very much enjoyed the other acts Archibald performed upon her person, she couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with her.

“Anne,” Lucy called from across the room, “come and see this!”

Anne patted Izzie’s knee as she rose to her feet. Once she was gone, Caro took her place on the sofa and wrapped an arm around Izzie’s shoulders.

“Lucky Anne,” she mused. “She’s one of those women who finds pleasure in just about anything Michael does to her.”

“One of those…” Izzie dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you mean to say that you don’t find your pleasure from… you know.”

Caro’s eyes flared with understanding. “Not usually. But there’s a little spot on the outside—”

“I know where it is,” Izzie said quickly. “Archibald showed me.”

“Good! Very good.” Caro studied Izzie’s face. “What, then, is troubling you?”

“It’s just…” Izzie glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I feel like it’s extra work for him. That I should be able to find enjoyment through the act alone. That there’s something wrong with me,” she added in a small voice.

Caro squeezed her shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with you, although I can understand why you feel that way. Married women like to jest about men with a large cock, or men with a small cock, but honestly? From what I can tell, there are more women out there like you and me, who don’t much mind one way or the other. Far better to have a husband who takes the time to do the things that will actually please his partner than an indifferent man with a thick cock.”

“I very much have one of those.” Izzie sighed. She was feeling somewhat better after Caro’s reassurance. But still… “I can’t help but wish I were one of those women who found pleasure both ways.”

“La, don’t we all? But you are enjoying your marriage bed, yes?”

“Very much so,” Izzie admitted.

Caro gave her a speaking look. “And you will not convince me that Thorpe is displeased to have you in his bed.”

Izzie had to admit he had never given her cause to believe that, not for a single second. “No, he said that the minutes we spent making love were the best minutes of his day, and he would never object to having a few more of them.”

Her sister smiled brightly. “I knew I liked him.”

Lucy plopped down next to Izzie on the sofa. “May I borrow this?” she asked, holding up the latest novel from Rosalia St. Clair.

“Of course. I finished it yesterday, and it’s excellent. But you must promise to bring it back.”

“Izzie needs all the books she can lay her hands on,” Diana said. “She has floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to fill.”

“Oh!” Anne exclaimed. “I haven’t seen your new library yet. Would you show me?”

“Of course,” Izzie said, rising from the sofa.

“There isn’t all that much to see,” Izzie explained as she led the group up the red-carpeted stairs. “We were feeling confident enough for a moment there that we brought in the architect. But two days later, I was attacked again.”

“Has the work had to stop, then?” Diana asked.

“Mostly,” Izzie said. “We’re being very careful not to let anyone we don’t know in the house. The architect Archibald has worked with before. But we feel less comfortable admitting a dozen strange workmen.”

“That’s probably wise,” Anne said.

“Some portions of the project can proceed,” Izzie noted. “My desk is being built off-site, and when it gets delivered, Archibald’s men can carry it upstairs. The same thing goes for the window seat. His men are handy enough to install it. But my floor-to-ceiling bookcases will have to wait until the threat is resolved.”

“Have your contacts come up with any leads, Anne?” Caro asked.

Anne shook her head. “It’s strange—my network is usually able to uncover something . But there’s not even a whisper of a plot against you, Izzie. Either whoever is behind this is unusually skilled at keeping their mouths shut, or your attackers are not connected to any of the usual criminal groups. I’m not giving up, though,” she hastened to add.

Izzie sighed. Bow Street wasn’t having any more luck. At this rate, she would be imprisoned in this house for the rest of her life…

She reminded herself that she was lucky to be alive. That many people spent their lives imprisoned in a hovel, not by danger but by poverty, and they would have traded their lot for a chance to live in this mansion without a second thought. And that she was exceptionally lucky to have a husband who would move mountains to secure her safety and happiness.

She forced herself to smile as she pushed open the door to her future library. “This is it. Tell me what you think…”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupted behind her. Lucy and Diana had visited the room several times, but it was Anne and Caro’s first time seeing it. Izzie gave them the full tour, showing them where the window seat would be built, where her desk would go, and telling them of Archibald’s plans for her floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

“It’s perfect,” Caro declared. “The only thing missing is a pet raven to perch on a stand beside your desk.”

“Don’t tell Thorpe,” Diana said. “If you put the idea in his head, by this time tomorrow, she’ll have a whole flock.”

They all laughed as they filed out of the room.

As Izzie shut the door, Anne said, “And it will be lovely having your husband so close at hand.”

Izzie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“This is Thorpe’s workshop, is it not?” Anne asked, gesturing to the locked door across the hall. “Or have I misremembered the way? I’ve only been in there the one time.”

There was a sudden roaring in Izzie’s ears. “You’ve been inside Archibald’s workshop?”

“Yes,” Anne said, oblivious to the jealousy raging in her sister’s gut. “It was when he first became involved with the Ladies’ Society. I had just started my campaign against the use of chimneysweep boys, and he created this marvelous long-handled broom that could bend through the crooked corners so many flues have.” Anne laughed. “He built it in one night. I thought that was impressive enough. But it doesn’t hold a candle to his other inventions.”

“What other inventions?” Izzie burst out. At Anne’s surprised look, she modulated her tone. “It’s just… Archibald keeps all his most impressive creations at his main machine shop. The one at Nettlethorpe Iron.”

Anne waved a hand. “I’m sure you’re right. This was more than a year ago. He’s probably moved things around since then. But when I visited, he had one of his screw-cutting lathes in there!”

“His screw-cutting… what?” Izzie asked.

Her words were effectively covered by Diana, who said in the same breath, “Oh! I read an article about his screw-cutting lathe! It sounded absolutely fascinating, and the implications for precision-engineered machine parts are tremendous. Did he demonstrate it for you?”

“He did not,” Anne said. “But I’ll bet he’s done so for Izzie.”

Everyone turned to her expectantly. For once, Izzie was at a loss for words. Not only had she not seen Archibald’s device in operation, but up until a moment ago, she hadn’t even been aware that he’d built something called a screw-cutting lathe.

Even worse, she wasn’t entirely sure what a screw-cutting lathe was .

And she knew that this was partially her own fault. That she tended to become so absorbed in the imaginary worlds she built inside her head, she didn’t pay as much attention to what was going on around her as she should. Diana knew all about his invention without having a particular acquaintance with Archibald.

But she had asked him to tell her about his work multiple times. Now that she thought about it, he had changed the subject each time.

It was almost as if he was trying to avoid her questions.

But why? She could only come up with one possibility.

Because he thinks you’re too silly to understand it .

Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to answer. She scrambled to come up with a face-saving excuse.

They always said the best lie was the one that was closest to the truth…

“I must confess, I am yet to see it. As I mentioned, he now keeps most of his machines over at Nettlethorpe Iron. That’s where I was heading five days ago when I was attacked. I was hoping to see all his inventions for myself. But I’ve been stuck here at the house.”

The hallway filled with sympathetic murmurs. Lucy came over and wrapped an arm around Izzie’s waist. “Don’t worry. Bow Street will get to the bottom of this soon.”

“And then you’ll be able to see your husband’s screwing-cutting jigamaree,” Caro said brightly.

Everyone laughed, and Izzie felt a bit better. At least everyone didn’t know more about her husband’s invention than her.

But she resolved that as soon as Archibald got home, he was going to answer her questions.

And he was going to show her what was behind that locked door.