Chapter 3

Isadora tried to forget the issue the next day. It dawned bright and warm. She breakfasted with her family and she, Charlotte, and Henry, shared anecdotes about the Keat's ball.

"It was acceptable," said Henry, Earl of Swingfield, munching on a piece of toast, "the musicians were above average but the food left a lot to be desired."

"I thought the food was wonderful," said Charlotte, spreading jam with gusto, "and so much of it!"

"A sure sign of a man of low birth. Sir Obadiah flaunts his wealth," Agnes commented, sipping tea delicately.

Henry grunted and Charlotte looked heavenward as though pondering her mother's opinion. At that moment, there came a knock at the door of the breakfast room. Swingfield Manor's butler, Mr. Wainwright, came in at his master's call, bearing a silver tray. Atop it were a number of envelopes and a card. Mr. Wainwright was slope-shouldered and tall, appearing to walk with a stoop even though he always had his back straight. His hair was dark and held in rigid waves back from his temple. His eyebrows were thunderous and his demeanor endlessly serious.

"A gentleman awaits your lordship's pleasure in the drawing room," he intoned gravely.

Henry picked up the card which lay atop the pile of envelopes.

"Mr. Cornelius Shadrack, Solicitor-at-Law, Gray's Inn, London," he read, "I don't know the gentleman. Do you, mama?"

Agnes shook her head, reaching for the card which Henry gave to her.

"It means nothing to me, I'm afraid. My personal affairs are managed by Mr. Shelby who looks after the estate. Have you recently engaged another solicitor, Henry?"

"I have not. Perhaps this fellow is touting for business. If he is, he will get short shrift," Henry said with a grunt. "Imagine turning up at this hour. Most unprofessional. Well, he can wait."

Charlotte and Isadora exchanged glances, the mystery mildly exciting. Isadora's own affairs were taken care of by Mr. Brendan Shelby, the solicitor for the Strickland family and the Swingfield estate. Neither she nor Charlotte had much cause to be involved with legal matters, that was left to cousin Henry and Aunt Agnes. Charlotte soon broached the subject of Mr. Elliot Keats, a favorite topic for her. She and Charlotte spent the remainder of breakfast discussing his virtues, with contributions from Aunt Agnes. Henry was reading his correspondence while Mr. Wainwright poured him tea. He occasionally leavened the praise with characteristically pessimistic comments on the vices of the Keats family. He did this without looking up from his letters or stopping to notice if his comments were received.

An hour passed before he sighed loudly, putting aside his correspondence and rising. He threw down his napkin.

"I suppose this fellow from London must be seen as he has taken the trouble to come all this way," he finally declared.

With that, Henry left the room. The women also rose, breakfast over.

"Will we take advantage of this glorious day to take the trap out?" she said.

"Oh yes!" Isadora replied, "the wind in our air and the sun on our faces will be simply wonderful on a day like this. I think I will take us up the valley towards Timsbury. We can stop for elevenses at that lovely little tea shop there."

"And I can pop into Mrs. Gulliver's dress shop. Last time we were there, she mentioned that she was getting a new consignment of material in that lovely shade of blue that I like from the Keats Mills. It should have arrived by now and I would dearly love to see what wonders she has performed with it."

Worries about arranged marriages could not have been further from Isadora's mind at that moment. The day was glorious and she loved nothing more than driving the trap around the countryside with Charlotte. She took it out most days except when the weather forbade it. Even then, she would drive it in the rain if not the fact that Charlotte and Aunt Agnes would worry for her. She did not mind taking excursions on her own. All she needed was the countryside and a good road. Swingfield's stables were excellent and she knew all of Henry's horses, even helped the stable hands to care for them in order to build a bond with the animals. They left the breakfast room arm in arm and planning their morning's adventure, when Henry appeared from the drawing room.

"Isadora, might I have a word," he said in a more than usually somber tone.

Isadora frowned and stopped. He looked to Charlotte and then to Aunt Agnes who had followed the two young women out of the breakfast room.

"I'm afraid I must disrupt your plans, cousin. Mr. Shadrack has brought most disturbing news. Would you come with me, please?"

"What on earth is going on, Henry?" Agnes asked.

Isadora felt a chill run down her spine and her mind leaped to the arranged marriage. Was she finally to be deprived of her freedom? But then, why should she obey an arrangement that was made without her consent and whose chief architect was now deceased?

"Mr. Shadrack has come here to talk to Cousin Isadora, mother. It is a private matter," Henry said.

"Nonsense. If this man has official business with Isadora, then it is entirely proper that she should be represented by her family. You and I will be present, of course."

"And I," Charlotte said stoutly.

"No, dear. I must insist that you retire to your room for the time being," Agnes said, "come Henry, Isadora, let us see what this man wants."

Isadora followed her aunt, glad for her seizing control of the situation. It gave her some comfort to know that Agnes would always protect her, Henry too in his own gruff way. She had always been able to rely on her father for that protection, until his ill health had deprived her of him. While she considered herself to be independent and capable, sometimes it was nice to be able to lean on her family.

Agnes strode along the hallway towards the drawing room. Before she reached it though, it opened. A tall man with long, straight white hair stepped out. He wore black and carried a cane that he stabbed at the ground in front of him. He wore spectacles, but they seemed to be completely black, hiding his eyes. As he strode towards them, Isadora realized that the man was blind. With unerring accuracy, the blind man strode forward and came to a halt directly in front of them, head turning from left to right as though surveying the three people before him.

"My Lady Swingfield and Miss Fairfax. I am Cornelius Shadrack."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shadrack," Agnes replied with a hint of frost in her voice, "may I ask what business you have with my niece?"

"That is a private matter, your ladyship. Miss Fairfax would not wish it discussed too openly." Shadrack spoke in a clipped tone and his head whipped towards Agnes as he spoke.

"I find that a quite bizarre statement to make as you are standing in my home and making demands on my niece's time. You will state your business, sir, or leave," Agnes said, the frost now coating every word.

"My business is to give notice to Miss Fairfax that the man to whom she has been promised in marriage wishes for the commitment to now be fulfilled. The ceremony is to take place next week."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Isadora felt an icy fist gripping her insides. Agnes openly gaped and Henry grunted.

"Perhaps we should all go into the drawing room…" he began.

"Why on earth should she? When was this commitment entered into and with whose consent?" Agnes demanded, ignoring her son.

"Arranged by the late Lord Henlade, her father." Shadrack replied abruptly, "and in answer to your first question, she is entirely free to break the covenant entered into by her father. But if she does, there will be consequences."

"I do not believe I am hearing this!" Agnes said.

"Aunt Agnes, it is quite alright. I think I should speak to Mr. Shadrack about this," Isadora finally spoke.

Agnes looked at her, opening her mouth to speak. But Isadora remembered the letter, and her father's confession to her on his deathbed. She remembered the act he had confessed to, the act which had led to him being forced to give away his only daughter. It was a secret that her father had been so desperate in his need to provide for her that he had resorted to an attempt to steal in order to do just that. George Fairfax was regarded as a man of honor and integrity by all who knew him. Isadora would protect that memory with everything she had.

"You do not need to, Isadora," Henry said, glowering at Shadrack.

"I know, Henry. And thank you both, but I must address this matter myself," Isadora said, swallowing against the fear that gripped her.

Shadrack had already turned smartly on his heel and stalked back towards the drawing room, cane stabbing at the carpeted floor as he went. Isadora took a breath and followed him. To her relief, Agnes and Henry did not follow, though she could hear them whispering furiously to each other. Entering the drawing room, she closed the doors behind herself. Mr. Shadrack had found his way to a chair by the fire and sat, hands atop his cane, waiting.

"I know of the arrangement my father made and the reasons for it. I must tell you that I am loath to honor an agreement I was not consulted about."

"Then my employer will be forced to renege on his own side of the agreement entered into," Shadrack replied, head turning unerringly to face her.

"And what does that mean?" Isadora asked.

"That he will let it be known that Lord George Fairfax of Henlade was caught, red-handed, attempting to steal a priceless artefact from my employer's own library. Also, that in a craven display of cowardice, he left my employer to die. And this after my employer had saved the life of Lord Henlade's only child. Namely, yourself," Shadrack intoned, still looking in her direction.

Unsettled by his ability to locate her so precisely, Isadora stepped to one side, sitting in an armchair. With only the small sounds of her dress brushing against the chair to go on, Shadrack's dark spectacles found her once again. She felt pinned in place, like a butterfly under glass.

"Why would he want to expose my father? Lord Henlade is dead and is well thought of. Why would anyone want to sully his memory with such accusations?" Isadora implored, horrified at the very idea.

"Because my employer was wronged and has a strong belief in natural justice. Such justice must be served whether or not the perpetrator has left this mortal world. The sins of the father and so on."

"Who is your employer?" Isadora asked in a small voice.

"His Grace, the Duke of Bellmore," Shadrack replied, again in a clipped tone.

Isadora gasped. The Beast of Bellmore! The recluse who lived in a castle rumored to be haunted and even cursed. Tales were told of Bellmore in hushed whispers. A pack of savage hounds were reputed to be allowed to roam the grounds of Bellmore Castle, to savage any intruder. Tales were also told of the Duke himself. Tales of a cruel man, last in a line of cruel men, cursed by God and rejected by society.

"I do not wish to marry him," Isadora muttered resolutely.

"Do you wish it to be known that your father was a thief? Or a coward?" Shadrack said brutally.

"No!" she replied sharply, "you will not sully his name. Nor will Bellmore. Do you understand, Mr. Shadrack!"

When faced with a threat to her dear father's memory, Isadora found that she could be fierce. She still felt afraid but the need to protect him ruled her, gave her strength.

"I am instructed to tell you that His Grace considers this a marriage in name only. He does not wish for an heir and does not care for the Bellmore name beyond his own death. He will not require consummation of the marriage. All he asks is that you become his wife and reside at Bellmore with him."

Isadora nodded, tears filling her eyes. Tears of grief for the happy life at Swingfield that was now coming to an end. She had thought that after the years of privation and struggle that she and her father had endured, that happier times had now been reached. But, it seemed that fate had other plans.

The sunlit days of summer were over for her. Winter was beckoning.