Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The first light of dawn was barely peeking through the small window of Isabella's attic room when she woke. The room was sparse, containing only a small bed, a wooden dresser, and a washbasin, but it was home.

She had grown accustomed to its simplicity, finding a sense of solace in the modesty. It was her haven. Stretching, she pushed back the thin covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet finding the worn rug on the cold wooden floor.

Isabella dressed quickly, choosing her usual plain, dark dress and white apron. She braided her long brown hair and pinned it up neatly so it would not get in her way as she worked. She glanced at her reflection in the small, cracked mirror above the dresser, her brown eyes tired but determined. Today would be another long day, but she would face it as she always did: with quiet resolve.

Descending the narrow staircase, Isabella moved through the silent house. The Montgomery estate was grand and imposing, a stark contrast to the orphanage where she had grown up.

She still marveled at the ornate furnishings and opulent decorations, even though she had been working here for several years. As she entered the kitchen, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread greeted her, and she smiled softly at Mrs. Jenkins, the cook, who was already bustling about.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jenkins," Isabella said, her voice a whisper in the quiet morning.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Jenkins replied warmly. "There is some tea ready for you."

Isabella poured herself a cup of tea, the warmth spreading through her hands as she held the delicate porcelain. She savored the brief moment of peace before her duties began in earnest. Setting the cup down, she gathered the breakfast tray for her lady, Marie Montgomery.

Then she sucked in a deep, sharp breath, and attempted to prepare herself for what was next.

Facing her mistress.

If she was in a good mood, then the day would be fine, but if not…

Well, Isabella did not like to think about those consequences.

With the tray balanced carefully, Isabella made her way up to Marie's chambers. She paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. Working for Marie was a mixed blessing. Isabella enjoyed the act of caring for someone, finding satisfaction in the routine and the small tasks that filled her day.

But Marie herself was not an easy person to please. Demanding and often unkind, she treated Isabella with a cold indifference that sometimes bordered on cruelty.

Knocking softly, Isabella entered the room. Marie was still asleep, her blonde hair spread out like a golden halo on the pillows. Isabella moved quietly, setting the tray on the small table by the window and drawing the heavy curtains aside to let in the morning light.

"Good morning, Miss Montgomery," Isabella said gently, knowing it was best to wake her lady with as much care as possible if she did not want to suffer a storm first thing.

Marie stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She frowned immediately, her face contorting into an expression of displeasure.

"Isabella, must you make so much noise?" she snapped.

"I am sorry, miss," Isabella replied, keeping her tone even. "Your breakfast is ready."

Marie sat up, her gaze scanning the tray.

"I hope the tea is hot this time," she muttered, reaching for the cup. She took a sip and sighed, her expression softening slightly. "At least you got that right."

Isabella nodded, hiding her relief. "Would you like help dressing this morning, miss?"

Marie waved a hand dismissively. "Of course. And be quick about it. I have an engagement later, and I must look my best."

As Marie sat in front of her vanity, Isabella brushed her hair gently, the rhythmic strokes calming her own nerves. Marie's reflection in the mirror was one of irritation and fatigue, as it often was

"You have no idea how difficult it is, Isabella," Marie began, her tone carrying the weight of self-pity. "Mother insists on parading me around like a prized pony at every ball and social event. She is so desperate for me to marry well, and it is utterly exhausting. Every man I meet is either a bore or insufferably arrogant. I just want to live my own life, make my own choices."

Isabella nodded, her hands deftly braiding Marie's golden hair. "I understand, miss. It must be challenging to have so many expectations placed upon you."

Marie sighed dramatically, her eyes closing as if the very thought of her predicament was too much to bear. "Challenging? It is unbearable. I long for freedom, for a life where I can choose whom I spend my time with. But that will never happen as long as Mother has her way."

Isabella's heart ached with empathy. She knew what it was like to have little control over one's own life, to be bound by circumstances and expectations. Yet, Marie's complaints were tinged with a lack of awareness of the privileges she possessed. Despite her sympathy, Isabella could not forget the numerous times Marie had treated her with disdain, as if she did not realize that others could have problems of their own.

As Isabella finished braiding Marie's hair, securing it with a delicate ribbon, Marie's eyes snapped open with a sudden glint of mischief.

"Speaking of freedom, Isabella, I will be going out again this afternoon, and I will need you to switch clothes with me at the seamstress today. Since I will tell my mother that is where I am going to be, I will need you there, with your back to the window as always, just in case her nosy friends pass by."

Isabella's stomach dropped. She had been hoping Marie would not ever ask that of her again, but here it was, the request that always filled her with dread.

Isabella thought it completely unnecessary, but because they had a similar hair color, Marie would not allow her to refuse. She might have enjoyed her freedom, but she was always deathly afraid of getting caught.

Isabella wanted to utilize that fear if possible. "Do you think that is a good idea?"

"Yes," Marie said, standing up and turning to face her. "Mother would never allow me to walk freely through the streets of London, and I am craving some freedom. You will wear my clothing and wait for me, while I spend some time doing exactly what I want."

"Miss, I…I do not think that is a good idea," Isabella said, her voice wavering slightly. "What if someone recognizes you? What if your mother finds out?"

Marie's eyes narrowed, and her voice took on a sharp edge. "Are you refusing me, Isabella?"

Isabella took a deep breath, summoning her courage. "It is just that the last time we did this, miss, we nearly got caught. If your mother finds out, I will lose my position. I cannot afford that. The orphanage…"

Marie's expression softened only slightly. "Oh, Isabella, always thinking of that dreary orphanage. Do not be so dramatic. No one will find out, and besides, you owe me this. After all, I have kept you employed despite your many…shortcomings."

The reminder of her precarious position made Isabella's resolve falter. She knew Marie was capable of making good on her threats. "But, miss…"

"No buts, Isabella. We are doing this. You will wear my dress, and I shall wear yours. No one will suspect a thing." Marie's tone left no room for further argument.

Isabella sighed inwardly, knowing she had no choice. "Very well, miss."

Marie's smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Good. Now, let us get ready. We have not much time. I will have my breakfast, and then we shall go, all right?"

All Isabella could do was nod.

After ensuring everything was in order, Isabella made her way to the servants' quarters. She needed to talk to someone, to share the burden of her anxiety. Her best friend, Sarah, was in the small common room, polishing silverware with great care and precision. Sarah looked up as Isabella entered, her warm smile fading into concern as she saw the tension on Isabella's face.

"Isa, what is wrong?" Sarah asked, setting aside the silverware and standing up.

Isabella sighed, feeling the weight of the morning's events pressing down on her. "It is Marie. She wants me switch clothes with her again."

Sarah's eyes widened. "Again? What is it this time?"

"She does not tell me what she is doing, only that she will have me fired if I do not comply with her wishes."

Sarah shook her head, a mixture of sympathy and frustration in her expression. "She is going to get you into serious trouble one day, Isa. You know that, right?"

"I know," Isabella replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what can I do? She's threatened my position, and I cannot afford to lose this job."

Sarah reached out, squeezing Isabella's hand. "You are in an impossible situation. But you have to be careful. If anyone finds out, it could be disastrous."

Isabella nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I am so scared, Sarah. Every time she asks me to do something like this, I feel like I'm walking on a tightrope."

Taking a deep breath, Isabella allowed herself a small smile.

"This time, I might not simply sit in the seamstress's store like Marie wants of me. This time, I may even visit my mother and the children at the orphanage…"

Sarah's face fell. "Now, that could really lead to trouble."

"I know, but I have done this enough times to know now that Marie will never be the wiser. As long as I am fast."

Sarah nodded. "I understand your desire to see them all. How is everyone at the orphanage?"

"They are doing well. Mother is as strong as ever, and the children…they always manage to lift my spirits. I miss them so much, but every visit reminds me of why I have to keep going. For them."

"Oh, Isa! I almost forgot. There is a letter waiting for you with Mr. Thompson. Perhaps it is from Eileen."

Isabella's eyes brightened with anticipation. "Oh, it has been a while since I received a letter…"

"You had better go get it before Mr. Thompson forgets where he put it. I'll cover for you while you are gone."

"Thank you. I shall be back as soon as I can."

Hurrying to the butler's pantry, Isabella found Mr. Thompson meticulously organizing various household keys and documents. The elderly butler looked up as she entered, his expression softening at the sight of her.

"Ah, Miss Isabella. I believe I have something for you." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a neatly folded letter, handing it to her with a kind smile. "From the orphanage, I presume."

Isabella took the letter eagerly, her fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I appreciate you holding on to this for me."

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. "You are most welcome."

Isabella hurried back to her small attic room, wanting a moment of privacy to savor the letter. Sitting on her bed, she unfolded the paper carefully. The sight of the children's signatures brought a smile to her face, each name written with a different flourish of enthusiasm and innocence.

She read through the children's messages first, her heart warming with each one. They spoke of their daily adventures, their excitement over small victories, and their longing to see her again. Then, she found her orphanage's mother's note, written in the familiar, neat handwriting she missed so much.

My dearest Isabella,

I hope this letter finds you well. The children have been eagerly waiting for your next visit and insisted on writing to you themselves. They miss you dearly, as do I. Life at the orphanage continues as usual, but there is a noticeable void without you here.

I want you to know that we are all proud of you. I understand the challenges you face every day, and I am grateful for your strength and perseverance. Remember that you are always in our thoughts and prayers.

Stay safe, my dear. We all look forward to the day we can see you again. Until then, know that you are deeply loved and missed.

With all my love,

Eileen

Isabella clutched the letter to her chest, tears filling her eyes. The love and support from her mother and the children gave her the strength she needed to face her challenges. She wiped her tears away, determined to stay strong for them.

Yes , she decided. I will visit with them today. No matter what Marie says.

She could not afford to lose this job, but she also needed to see those she cared about the most.