Chapter 1

1

Lady Strickland considered it exceedingly vulgar for a lady to display any glimpse of her nether limbs in public, or even to make mention of them. So when she suffered a sudden fit and collapsed, she would have been quite pleased (had she been conscious) that her maid ensured she was decently covered before calling for help. When the doctor finally arrived, Lady Strickland had been dead for a good two hours at least. However, those who knew her felt that her features, hardened by death, differed very little from her usual rigid expression while alive, and had great difficulty believing that she was as dead as the proverbial doornail.

Lady Isabelle, who had been gently informed by her cousin Arabella that her mother had had a sudden apoplexy and there was nothing that could have been done to save her, blinked and nodded, before saying: “Is she asking for me? Should I go to her?”

Bella tried again to explain, stating bluntly: “Issie, your mother is dead.” And then, feeling that perhaps she’d been too blunt, attempted to soften her pronouncement by saying: “She has gone to her eternal reward.”

She felt quite foolish spouting this platitude, as Bella didn’t feel her aunt deserved any reward, and since God was said to be omniscient, he had to have known it, as well. But Bella was accustomed to protecting her younger cousin from life’s harsh realities, and one didn’t have to be a high stickler like Lady Strickland had been to realize it was inappropriate to dance a jig on the occasion of your relation’s death, no matter how awfully she might have treated you.

Although Bella had no desire to celebrate. Her aunt’s passing seemed such an impossible thing to comprehend that she was having difficulty assimilating it and felt no more than a shocked numbness. She could understand Issie’s instinctive refusal to accept that her domineering mother, who had tyrannized Issie for the first eighteen years of her life, had ceased to exist.

It became easier to accept in the coming weeks, after the will had been read and Issie had been named the sole beneficiary of the family estate. Bella had no expectation that her aunt would leave her anything so was not surprised when she was proven correct, though she couldn’t help feeling a trifle disappointed. However, she was not totally penniless. Her father, who had been the late Lord Strickland’s younger brother, had left her a small bequest when he died. (Although her annual income was less than what the Strickland estate spent on candles each year.)

Bella did derive one financial benefit from Lady Strickland’s death: while she was alive her aunt had appropriated Bella’s income, claiming it was her due for housing and feeding Bella, which she’d done for more than sixteen years since Bella had come to live with the family when she was three years old. Now that Lady Strickland had died, the family’s man of affairs was forwarding Bella’s allowance directly to her. So even though Bella did not inherit one penny from her miserly aunt, she suddenly felt very wealthy indeed, as she had pocket money for the first time in her life. Unfortunately, she had no opportunity to spend it, as she and Issie never left the estate.

The girls had been surprised to find that, other than that initial visit from the family attorney, they had been left completely to their own devices. Bella finally concluded that Lady Strickland had never expected to die before Issie was married and so had made no arrangements for that eventuality. After all, before Lady Strickland’s sudden death, she and Issie had been actively preparing for Issie’s come-out and had been planning to travel to London the following week. Therefore Issie and Bella, just eighteen and nineteen, had no older woman to chaperone them. Nor did they have any desire to point out this oversight. They were much happier to be allowed to make their own decisions without criticism, and rejoiced in their freedom from the myriad rules and restrictions Lady Strickland had imposed on them. This freedom was limited, however, as they were expected to observe strict mourning, and Bella couldn’t help feeling that even though Lady Strickland was gone, the conventions that she had insisted upon were continuing to control them.

But a year couldn’t last forever, and eleven months after her aunt’s death, Bella approached Issie in order to discuss their future. She had no doubts about where she would find her cousin, and when she entered the library—a much cozier room compared to when her aunt was alive—she found Issie curled up on a sofa reading by the light of a candle, exactly where Bella expected her to be.

It was only midmorning but it was a cold, damp, cloudy day in late February, and one indulgence they’d granted themselves since Lady Strickland’s passing was the lighting of fires and candles in any room they pleased. And Issie’s favorite room was the library. Bella enjoyed reading, too, but not nearly as much as Issie, who had to be reminded to eat and sleep when she was engrossed in a book.

Issie didn’t look up when Bella entered the room and, even after Bella cleared her throat, Issie merely gave her an absentminded smile and a nod before retreating once again into her book.

“Issie,” Bella said.

“Yes?” she replied, though she wasn’t looking at Bella when she did so.

“Issie, give it to me.”

This finally got Issie’s attention. She pulled the book tight against her chest as if she were its mother and it was an infant that Bella was trying to forcibly wrest from her arms. “Why?”

“I need to talk to you, and I need you to pay attention.”

Issie sighed, but obediently handed the book to Bella, though she looked bereft as she did so. Bella, looking more closely at her cousin, was surprised by her unhealthy appearance. As critical and dictatorial as Lady Strickland had been, she was better than Bella at making sure Issie ate, slept, and left the house. In the eleven months since her mother had died, Issie had become a virtual hermit. She hardly ever dressed for dinner, and she and Bella very rarely ate in the dining room, contenting themselves with a tray in their rooms. They never went to church or into the village, or paid or received calls, and Bella at first had been happy about this state of affairs, as she felt that if she and Issie were seen in public without an older female chaperone, one of their officious neighbors might take it upon themselves to contact someone who had the authority to appoint one. But now she felt guilty that she had let her cousin deteriorate to this point, and wondered if having an older female companion would have been such a bad thing, after all. It was highly unlikely that anyone could be as harsh a taskmaster as Lady Strickland.

And Bella acknowledged that, while Lady Strickland had been far too demanding of Issie, Bella had not been demanding enough. Bella knew, more than anyone, how her cousin had suffered under her mother’s merciless domination, and so was inclined to give in to Issie too easily, condoning behavior that could not be for her long-term good. Why, Issie had dark circles around her eyes, was white as a sheet, and seemed even thinner than she had been before Lady Strickland’s death, and she had been slender then.

Bella felt a sudden surge of sympathy for her poor, rich cousin, and asked very kindly: “Dearest Issie, isn’t there anything you would like to do?”

“What do you mean?” Issie asked.

“Our year of mourning will end in a few weeks. Wouldn’t you like to go to London? You were on the verge of going when your mother died. Just think, in less than a month it will be permissible for you to attend balls, and musical concerts, and the theatre…oh! I envy you prodigiously!” Bella said, in all sincerity. She knew her common birth and lack of fortune made it impossible for her to have her own come-out, and gave herself frequent lectures so that she did not feel depressed or discontented when comparing her circumstances with her cousin’s.

However, rather than being pleased at this list of delights that awaited her, Issie appeared horrified. She put one hand to her heart and her breathing accelerated, as if the very thought of such activities caused her extreme agitation. “I do not want to do any of those things! I know you mean well, Bella, but please do not worry about me. I am quite content. Indeed, I am doing everything I’ve ever desired to do.”

“But…you don’t do anything; other than stay indoors and read.”

“Exactly!” her cousin replied, and a brilliant smile lit her pale face.

Bella did her best to convince Issie to join her in rides and walks, but Issie pleaded poor health and staunchly refused every invitation. Bella was wondering if she should approach someone older and wiser for advice, and even paid a visit to the vicarage, her first time making a call since her aunt’s death. However, while the vicar and his wife were at least two decades older than Bella, they didn’t strike her as particularly wiser, and she decided against confiding her troubles in them.

Before she could worry for too much longer, a letter arrived for Isabelle that Bella felt was the answer to their dilemma. However, Issie eyed it as if it were a snake, particularly when she saw who it was from. “Who is Lady Dutton?” Bella asked, looking over Issie’s shoulder.

“Mama’s aunt. My great-aunt,” Issie replied.

“Have you ever met her?” Bella did not recall meeting her, but she had never left Fenborough Hall since she’d arrived there as a child; whereas Issie had gone with her mother to visit relatives upon occasion.

“Once; on a visit to London when I was twelve. She told my mother if she allowed me to read so much I would ruin my eyesight and spoil my looks and no man would marry me. Mama forbade me to read for the entire month of our visit.” Issie looked as if the injustice of this incident still rankled seven years later. Then her indignant expression turned mischievous. “But I snuck a book and candle into bed every night. One time I nearly caught the bed hangings on fire, and I slept till noon every day, but I was never found out.”

Issie was smiling fondly over this memory when she began reading the letter, but her smile quickly faded. “Oh, no, it’s the worst possible news!”

Issie handed Bella the letter and sank down onto the sofa. She looked even paler than she had before, something Bella had not thought possible.

“Issie, are you all right? Should I get your vinaigrette?” Bella asked.

“Just read the letter,” Issie whispered, and Bella took a deep breath to prepare herself for whatever dire news it contained. She couldn’t imagine what could have caused Issie’s stricken expression. They had already lost their closest relatives, so no one could have died, or at least no one Issie cared about. Had Issie’s fortune been lost? Had Napoleon escaped a second time? Had Lady Strickland faked her death, and was she about to reappear now that their year of mourning was ending?

Bella’s own knees got a little weak at that last thought, and she dropped down next to Issie on the sofa. But even though she read the letter twice, once very quickly and a second time much more thoroughly in case she’d missed something, she couldn’t find anything that would have caused Issie’s dismayed reaction. In fact, Bella thought it was the most thrilling letter she’d ever read, even though Lady Dutton had atrocious spelling, grammar, and penmanship. Perhaps that was what had upset Issie so.

Bella looked up from the letter to see Issie watching her with an expression of concern. “Issie, we’re going to London!” Bella shouted jubilantly, jumping up from the sofa and twirling around the room before running back to her cousin’s side and hugging her.

Issie groaned.

It was apparent that Lady Dutton assumed Issie’s governess was still in residence, as her letter suggested that the girls travel to London under her escort. They were to stay at Lady Dutton’s London house for the season, and she intended to give Isabelle the come-out she’d missed because of her mother’s demise. (Though she’d spelled it “dumyes” and it had taken Bella a good ten seconds to figure out that Lady Dutton wasn’t offering Lady Strickland an insult.) Lady Dutton had specifically included Bella in the invitation. At least, that’s how Bella interpreted the paragraph that said if Issie’s cousin was still living with her she might as well bring her and they’d find something for her to do, since Lady Dutton was honor bound to show the same charity toward the “poor, unforchunet creacher” that Lady Strickland had.

If it were up to Issie, she would have found some way of ignoring the summons. She’d even suggested to Bella that they destroy the letter and pretend it had been lost, but Bella responded very reasonably that Lady Dutton would then send someone to get them or come herself, and that would only have the effect of delaying the inevitable and make Lady Dutton annoyed with them. By repeatedly reminding Issie of such facts, Bella was eventually able to coax her into a carriage and onto the road to London.

Bella was highly impressed with herself for accomplishing this feat, and reflected that it was a shame there was no one to notice and praise her as she deserved. Issie sulked in the corner of the carriage, and May, the fifteen-year-old maidservant they’d brought with them, was just as bashful and nervous as her mistress. Bella assumed that was why Issie had chosen her to accompany them, so that Bella would have no one to support her in what Issie insisted on calling “this mad and ridiculous escapade.”

It was somewhat mad, Bella admitted to herself, as while Issie had traveled with her mother occasionally, Bella had never been any further than a few miles from Fenborough Hall. She couldn’t believe that she was twenty years old and only now leaving. She knew less about travel than Issie did, perhaps even less than May, who had a cousin in “London-town.”

However, with the help of their coachman, who had made a few trips to London while Lady Strickland was alive, combined with Bella’s fierce determination to begin this new chapter in her life as soon as possible, Bella and Issie made it safely to London.

Upon their arrival, the young women were ushered into an opulent drawing room where Lady Dutton was waiting to greet them. Bella was sorry that they were not even allowed the opportunity to refresh themselves before meeting her and hoped the interview wouldn’t be a long one. But since Lady Dutton stood at their entrance and didn’t invite them to sit, it appeared as if their ordeal was to be brief.

Lady Dutton’s critical glance quickly passed over the three young women before settling on the diminutive May.

“Who is this? She’s certainly not your governess; she looks to be no more than a child. Who are you, girl?” Lady Dutton asked her.

“May-your-ladyship.” May was so overcome with fear at addressing this august personage that the sentence came out in a hurried, breathy whisper.

Lady Dutton did not deign to reply, but merely looked down her nose at the lowly chambermaid in a silence that dragged on for an excruciatingly long time, until poor little May was visibly shaking. Then, finally, Lady Dutton asked: “May I what?”

To which question May was incapable of responding, merely staring at Lady Dutton in confused terror while her mouth opened and closed several times.

Lady Dutton turned in exasperation to Bella, whom she’d obviously marked as the only conversable member of the group, and asked: “What is wrong with the girl? Why can’t she finish her sentence?”

“She had finished. She was telling you her name. It’s ‘May,’ my lady,” Bella explained.

“Call me Aunt Lucretia, child,” Lady Dutton replied, and a wave of relief washed over Bella. She’d never expected a relation of Lady Strickland’s to treat her so graciously and had prepared herself to face coldness, if not outright insults, so she was very pleased to be proven wrong in her assumptions.

Now that Lady Dutton realized that the maid had merely been giving her name, she quickly, albeit firmly, dismissed the girl, telling her that she could stay for two days but was then to return with the coachman to Oxfordshire. Bella was relieved that the question of the missing governess appeared to have been forgotten. After May had gratefully left the room, still trembling from her encounter with Lady Dutton, that lady turned to survey the cousins, who moved closer to each other in an unconscious seeking of support.

“Why, you’re as alike as two peas in a pod,” she finally said, before the silence had grown too ominous. “How does anyone tell you apart?”

Bella and Issie looked at each other in surprise. There was a superficial resemblance, to be sure. They both had blue eyes and brown hair, but while Issie’s was a mousy brown, Bella’s was a darker, richer chestnut. And while they were of a similar height, a little taller than average, Issie was thinner and smaller-bosomed. Both girls were attractive, but Issie’s conventional prettiness paled in comparison to Bella’s more striking appearance, as Bella’s features were more defined; her lips fuller, her blue eyes a more vibrant hue, and her complexion blooming with health. Only a woman who was nearsighted and too vain to wear spectacles would ever think the two girls could pass for each other.

But they had no desire to argue with the lady and allowed her statement to go unchallenged, and she continued: “Though I’m sure I will have no problem knowing who is who, as Isabelle is my dear niece’s daughter, and blood is thicker than water, as the saying goes.” She seemed ready to bring the interview to an end, and gestured to the door, where the housekeeper had suddenly appeared. “You would probably like to refresh yourselves after your long journey. Mrs. Lucas will show you to your rooms.” Before they could leave, she turned to address Issie directly. “You are called Arabella, are you not?” she asked, and the two girls stared back at her as witlessly as May had.

Bella, realizing that the lady had confused her and Issie for each other, hurried to correct her. “Aunt Lucretia,” she said, before pausing, as it had suddenly occurred to her that she’d been invited to call her that because the lady thought she was Isabelle. Should she address her by her title after all? Then she thought about how awkward it would be to correct Lady Dutton when she’d just announced that the noble blood she and Issie shared would create a special bond between them.

While Bella hesitated, Issie startled her by saying, very clearly: “Yes, I am called Arabella.”

Bella waited until they were shown to their respective guest rooms, the wrong guest rooms, and after Mrs. Lucas had left Bella alone, she immediately went into the room Issie now inhabited to confront her. “Why did you tell your great-aunt that you were Arabella? That you were me? I. That you were I?” She paused to listen to herself. It sounded awkward no matter how she phrased it. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

“It didn’t seem very tactful to correct her at that moment,” Issie responded reasonably. “We can just tell her the next time we’re together; she’ll never know the difference. She’s obviously nearsighted, poor thing.”

“That’s true,” Bella replied, though she wondered if Issie was telling the entire truth. She couldn’t help but feel Issie was up to something. Her cousin wasn’t a devious person, but because she’d been oppressed by her mother for so long, she’d become skilled at quietly and unobtrusively getting her own way on the rare occasions that she could. However, Bella couldn’t imagine how it would benefit Issie to assume Bella’s identity as the poor, unloved, unwanted daughter of a misalliance. Even this brief masquerade had demonstrated the inequality of their treatment, as Bella pointed out to Issie. “But you’ve been given the wrong room. I’m sure the grand chamber I was assigned was really intended for you.”

“I prefer this one. It’s cozy,” Issie said.

Bella looked around her. It wasn’t a bad room; she doubted there was a bad room in the house, unless it was in the servants’ quarters. But it was simpler and smaller than the room Bella had just been assigned, when she was presumed to be “Lady Isabelle.” The four-poster bed in that room had rose velvet draperies, and the walls were covered with a lovely light green Chinese-style paper painted with peacocks and flowering trees. Bella had felt an actual pang at the realization she’d have to give up the room after they’d corrected the misunderstanding concerning their identities. But for some reason Issie didn’t want the beautifully decorated room. Perhaps she planned to read in bed and didn’t want to get caught by her great-aunt.

“Are you afraid Aunt Lucretia will take your books away? Or that you’ll catch the bed hangings on fire?” Bella asked.

Issie shrugged. “That’s definitely a consideration. Though mostly it’s because I don’t like a lot of attention from the servants. And I thought it would make a nice change if you received special treatment, for once.”

Bella smiled fondly at her cousin. “That’s very kind of you, Issie. Thank you.”

Issie nodded and pulled a book out of her reticule. And Bella, realizing that their conversation was at an end, returned to her own luxurious chamber.

Over the coming days, Bella and Issie found that Lady Dutton frequently confused them for each other, and they dealt with it by pretending to be whomever it was she mistook them for. This seemed easier than embarrassing her by constantly correcting her.

However, when Lord Dutton made an appearance, they worried that they might have to change their tactics. He was not nearsighted (in fact, he appeared to see far too much), and he would catch on to their little ploy immediately.

It was the second morning of their stay before Bella even realized he was in residence. She came down for breakfast to find an elderly gentleman seated at the table reading a newspaper.

Bella had walked a few feet into the room before noticing his presence, and when she did, she came to a sudden stop. “Oh! I beg your pardon,” she said.

He looked regretfully at his paper for a moment before rising unhurriedly to his feet and bowing slightly in her direction. He was a very dapper, elegant gentleman of around seventy, with impeccably coiffed gray hair. To Bella he appeared the very epitome of an aristocrat.

“Good morning,” he said. “You must be Lady Isabelle.”

Bella hesitated a moment before deciding she should be truthful. “No, I’m Isabelle’s cousin, Arabella Grant.”

“Miss Grant.” He gestured to the sideboard. “Please.”

Bella hurriedly filled a plate, hardly knowing what she chose, as she hated for him to stand there waiting while his coffee grew cold, and he was obviously too much the gentleman to sit until after she had.

Her plate full, she rushed to the table and sat down, and he proceeded to do so as well, eyeing his newspaper with a look of longing.

“Please, my lord, do not stand upon ceremony with me. You’re more than welcome to read.” Bella would actually prefer for him to read his paper, as she felt exceedingly uncomfortable eating in front of him, certain he’d find something to criticize in the way that she did so.

His lips turned up so slightly that Bella barely recognized it as a smile, before he did as she’d suggested and picked up his paper.

Bella was very uncomfortable eating breakfast with this formidable, silent gentleman and regretted that she’d come down. She should have done as Issie had and requested a tray in her chamber, but before she could make her escape, Lady Dutton entered the room.

“My lord,” she greeted her husband.

He answered her with a slight inclination of his head.

“And Isabelle,” she continued, nodding her head in Bella’s direction.

Bella looked at Lord Dutton, a stricken expression on her face, unsure how to answer since she’d just told him she wasn’t Isabelle. But before she could respond, Lord Dutton had risen from his seat and was speaking.

“Enjoy your breakfast. I’m off to my club,” he said, and left the room.

Bella was able to enjoy her breakfast after the intimidating nobleman had left, though as Lady Dutton had confused her with Issie, she was forced to listen to instructions about the court presentation she wouldn’t be participating in. She cheerfully responded, “Yes, Aunt Lucretia,” whenever necessary and had a second cup of tea.