7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I ris sat at the window seat of her bedchamber, her favorite spot for quiet contemplation, watching as the garden below awakened. A robin hopped along the stone path, searching for its breakfast, while the roses nodded their heavy heads in the gentle breeze. Despite the serene beauty of the scene, Iris found herself unable to shake the melancholy that had settled over her since the night of the soirée at Thornbrook Manor.

A soft knock at the door roused her from her reverie. "Come in," she called, turning from the window.

Lucy, her lady's maid, entered the room with a gentle smile. "Good morning, My Lady. It's a beautiful day outside. Perhaps you'd like to join your family in the garden? Mr. Hartley has come to call, and they're all taking tea on the terrace."

Iris hesitated, her gaze drifting back to the window where she could see her parents and sister laughing with the handsome Mr. Hartley. "No, thank you, Lucy. I think I shall remain indoors today. "

Lucy's brow furrowed with concern. "Begging your pardon, My Lady, but you've been acting strange these past few days."

Iris turned back to Lucy, studying her maid's kind face. She had always found Lucy to be trustworthy and discreet, but the thought of confiding in her about Lord Thornbrook made her heart race with anxiety. What if Lucy thought her foolish?

"I..." Iris began, then faltered. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Lucy, what I'm about to tell you must remain in the strictest confidence."

Lucy's eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. "Of course, My Lady. You can trust me."

Iris patted the seat beside her, inviting Lucy to sit. As the maid perched on the edge of the window seat, Iris found herself pouring out her thoughts and feelings about Lord Thornbrook—his mysterious demeanor, the intensity of his music, and the connection she felt when they were together.

"...and I cannot help but wonder about his past," Iris finished, her cheeks flushed with the effort of her confession.

Lucy listened attentively, with something akin to concern or intrigue etched on her features.

"I see," she said slowly. "What do you wish to know about his lordship, My Lady?"

"Everything," Iris admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "The rumors, the scandal... I need to understand who he truly is."

Lucy's lips quirked into a small smile. "Well, My Lady, if it's information you're after, I daresay the servants' hall might be a good place to start. We hear all manner of things, you know."

Iris's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, Lucy, would you? It would mean ever so much to me."

"Of course, My Lady," Lucy replied with a conspiratorial wink. "Leave it to me. I'll see what I can discover."

As Lucy rose to leave, a call drifted up from the garden below. "Iris! Do come down and join us!"

Iris sighed, recognizing Maude's voice. "Lucy, would you please tell my sister that I'm feeling a touch under the weather and will remain in my room this morning?"

Lucy nodded, though her expression betrayed her concern. "As you wish, My Lady. Shall I bring you some tea?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," Iris replied, turning back to the window as Lucy left the room.

The morning passed slowly, with Iris alternating between reading and watching the activities in the garden below. As the sun reached its zenith, she saw the family and Mr. Hartley make their way back into the house for luncheon.

A short while later, Lucy returned with an invitation to join the family for the meal. Iris knew she could no longer avoid them without raising suspicion, so she allowed Lucy to help her dress and made her way downstairs.

The Rosier family was already seated in the dining room when Iris entered. Mr. Ralph Hartley had been invited to join them, and Iris couldn't help but notice the way Maude's eyes sparkled whenever she looked at the handsome young man.

"Ah, Iris," Lady Rosier said as she took her seat. "How are you feeling, my dear? Maude said you were unwell this morning."

Iris forced a smile. "Much improved, thank you, Mama. The rest did me good."

The conversation flowed easily around the table as the first course was served. Iris watched Mr. Hartley and Maude, noting how they seemed to gravitate towards each other, their eyes meeting frequently .

"I must say, Lord Rosier," Mr. Hartley said, his voice warm with admiration, "your daughter Maude is a true treasure. I count myself fortunate indeed to have made her acquaintance."

The Marquess beamed with paternal pride. "We are equally pleased with your courtship, Mr. Hartley. Maude speaks most highly of you."

Maude blushed prettily, ducking her head. "Papa, please," she murmured, though her pleasure was evident.

Lady Rosier leaned forward, her eyes alight with interest. "And what of your intentions, Mr. Hartley? Surely you must have given some thought to the future?"

Mr. Hartley cleared his throat, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. "Indeed, I have, Lady Rosier. I want you all to know that I hold Maude in the highest esteem. It is my sincerest wish to take her as my wife."

A chorus of delighted exclamations followed this pronouncement. Iris smiled at her sister, genuinely happy for her, yet she couldn't shake the feeling of discontent that had taken root in her heart.

As the meal progressed, Iris found her thoughts drifting again to Lord Thornbrook. What would it be like, she wondered, to have him look at her the way Mr. Hartley looked at Maude? The intensity of her longing took her by surprise, and she hastily excused herself from the table.

"If you'll pardon me," she murmured, rising from her seat, "I believe I shall retire to the music room for a while."

Once safely ensconced in the familiar surroundings of the music room, Iris seated herself at the pianoforte. Her fingers moved over the keys, drawing forth a melody that seemed to capture the tumultuous emotions within her breast. As she played, she allowed herself to imagine Lord Thornbrook beside her, his strong hands joining hers on the keys, his deep voice murmuring words of encouragement in her ear.

So lost was she in her reverie that she failed to notice the passage of time. It wasn't until Lucy entered the room that Iris realized how late it had grown.

"My Lady," Lucy said softly, approaching the pianoforte. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Iris shook her head, her fingers stilling on the keys. "Not at all, Lucy. Have you... discovered anything?"

Lucy glanced about furtively before leaning in close. "I have, My Lady, though I'm not certain you'll like what I've learned."

Iris's heart began to race. "Tell me everything," she urged.

Lucy took a deep breath. "It seems the rumors about Lord Thornbrook's scandalous past in London are true. He was involved with a married woman, the wife of a Viscount. Her name was Isabelle Black."

Iris felt a sharp pang of jealousy at the mention of another woman's name. "Go on," she prompted, striving to steady her voice.

"She was Mr. Ralph Hartley's second cousin," Lucy continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "The family had to distance themselves from her to maintain their respectability. It's said that her husband was so overcome with disgrace that he... well, he took his own life."

Iris gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Good heavens," she breathed. "What became of her?"

"She fled to France with her new husband," Lucy replied. "Nobody speaks to her now. It's as though she's been erased from society entirely."

Iris sat in stunned silence, trying to process this information. The Lord Thornbrook she had come to know seemed so far removed from the reckless libertine these rumors painted him to be. And yet... hadn't she sensed a deep well of passion beneath his cool exterior? A part of her longed to unravel the mystery, to understand what could have driven him to such extremes .

"Thank you, Lucy," she said at last, her voice soft with emotion. "You've been most helpful."

As Lucy curtsied and took her leave, Iris lost herself in thought again. Part of her yearned to meet Isabelle Black and understand what it was about her that had utterly captivated Lord Thornbrook.

Such a meeting was impossible, of course. And even if it weren't, what right did she have to pry into his past?

Iris shook her head, chastising herself for her foolishness. Whatever her feelings for Lord Thornbrook might be—and she was far from certain of their nature—they were unlikely to be reciprocated. He had made it clear that his heart was not free to give.

And yet... the memory of his intense gaze, the way his fingers had hovered so close to her cheek in the library, sent a shiver down her spine. There had been something there; she was sure of it. A connection that defied explanation.

With a sigh, Iris returned her attention to the pianoforte. Her fingers moved over the keys once more, drawing forth another melody that seemed to reflect her feelings—joy for her sister's happiness, confusion over her own feelings, and a lingering melancholy that she couldn't quite shake.

The soft click of the door opening startled Iris from her reverie. She turned to see Maude entering the music room, a look of concern etched upon her delicate features.

"Iris," Maude said softly, approaching the pianoforte. "That was beautiful but so sad. I couldn't help but notice that you seemed out of sorts at lunch and didn't join us earlier."

Iris's fingers stilled on the keys as she turned to face her sister. For a long moment, she remained silent, unsure how to express her feelings.

"I'm not sure," she admitted finally. "I suppose I'm just... thinking about change."

Maude seated herself beside Iris on the bench, her expression one of concern and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Iris sighed, her gaze drifting back to the keys. "With you possibly getting married, everything will be different. I'm happy for you, truly I am, but... I'll miss you terribly when you're gone."

Maude's eyes softened, and she reached out to take Iris's hand. "Oh, Iris. No matter where life takes me, you'll always be my dearest sister and friend. Nothing could ever change that."

Iris squeezed her sister's hand, feeling a lump in her throat. "Do you remember when we were little girls, playing in the nursery at our home in London? How simple everything seemed then?"

Maude smiled, her eyes taking on a faraway look. "Of course. We'd spend hours with our dolls, creating such elaborate stories."

"And Mama and Papa would watch us from the doorway, smiling," Iris added, her voice wistful. "Sometimes I wish we could go back to those days. That we'd never grown up. Adulthood is so...complicated."

Maude nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It is. But it also brings new joys. Think of all we have to look forward to—marriages, children, building our own families and legacies."

Iris forced a smile, though her heart ached at the thought of Maude's future happiness—a future she wasn't sure she'd ever share. "You're right, of course. I'm just being silly and sentimental."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, both lost in memories of their shared childhood. Finally, Maude spoke again, her voice gentle but probing.

"Iris, all of us have noticed you've been distracted lately. Particularly since… the soirée at Thornbrook Manor. Is there... is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Iris felt her cheeks grow warm, the memory of her encounter with Lord Thornbrook in the library rising unbidden in her mind. She hesitated, torn between the desire to confide in her sister and the fear of judgment.

"I..." she began, then faltered. Taking a deep breath, she decided to trust the bond she shared with Maude. "I asked Lucy to gather information about Lord Thornbrook's past."

Maude's eyes widened in surprise and dismay. "Iris! You shouldn't have done that. It's not wise to involve the servants in such matters."

"I trust Lucy," Iris defended, though she felt a twinge of guilt at her sister's rebuke. "And... well, I learned some rather distressing things about Lord Thornbrook's history in London."

Maude leaned closer. "What sort of things?"

Haltingly, Iris recounted what Lucy had told her about Lord Thornbrook's affair with Isabelle Black and the tragic consequences that followed. As she spoke, she watched Maude's face grow increasingly troubled.

"Oh, Iris," Maude breathed when she had finished. "That's... that's truly awful. To think that his actions led to such tragedy—a man taking his own life, a family disgraced. And then for his own mother and sister to die on their way to confront… it's all so alarming."

Iris nodded. "I know. I can scarcely reconcile the man I've come to know with the one in these stories."

Maude studied her sister's face intently. "Iris, you... you are not involved with Lord Thornbrook, are you?"

Iris felt her cheeks flush with heat. "No! I mean... it's just a fascination, really. His music, his intensity—I find it all rather intriguing. But I'm sure it won't lead anywhere. "

Maude didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded slowly. "Just…be careful, Iris. A man with such a past… could be dangerous. To your reputation, if nothing else."

Iris managed a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I will be, I promise. It's all just idle curiosity, nothing more."

Maude's expression softened, and she reached out to embrace her sister. As Iris returned the embrace, she felt a pang of guilt for her deception, but how could she explain the complexity of her feelings when she scarcely understood them herself?