Chapter 12

12

It was past three in the morning when Issie had finally gone to sleep, and she was still sleeping soundly when Bella looked in on her at nine.

Bella watched her cousin for a moment while she slept, trying to imprint an image on her mind to recall later. Issie hardly looked any older than she had when Bella had first arrived at Fenborough Hall, with traces of tears on her puffy cheeks and her eyelashes matted from weeping. So innocent, so fragile, and so easily wounded. Poor little Issie.

Bella said a short prayer for Issie’s happiness, wiping away the inevitable tears that she couldn’t prevent from falling at the thought of their separation. She loved Issie so very much, despite the pain she was causing Bella by marrying the man she herself loved, and Bella would carry that secret to the grave before she wrecked Issie’s chance of happiness with him. But neither could she live with Issie and Lord Brooke after their marriage.

She left the house a little before ten, carrying a small valise. One of the footmen found her a hackney, and she took it to the Bell and Crown coaching inn where she paid for a room for the night. She then went to Rundell, Bridge and Rundell and sold two of the diamonds in the ring that Issie had given her. After returning to the inn, she wrote a letter to Issie and gave it to a servant to deliver, and then had a dinner tray sent to her room. However, she found she was so dejected that she could barely eat and realized she would have done better to save her money. She had no doubt that she would eventually need it.

Two gentlemen arrived on the Duttons’ doorstep shortly after Bella had left, both requesting an audience with Lady Isabelle. They were invited inside by the butler, where they looked each other over surreptitiously and nodded unsmilingly in acknowledgment of the other’s presence.

Nancy, who happened to be crossing through the hall shortly after they had been admitted, saw Dr. Jordan standing there, assumed he had an established appointment with the young lady, and told the butler that she would escort him above stairs. She had not heard him ask for “Lady Isabelle,” nor would she care if she had. She took him to the door of the sickly young lady he had visited in the past, whose real name only the good Lord knew.

Lord Brooke watched jealously as the doctor followed the maidservant up the stairs, and wished it had been that easy for him to gain an audience with Bella. He was also dismayed to find Bella’s description of the man was all too accurate. He was surprisingly handsome. And he had an air of intelligence and competence that heightened his good looks.

Lord Brooke waited impatiently while his card was taken to Lady Dutton, wondering if the doctor was a serious rival for Bella’s affections after all. It was odd he was there to visit “Lady Isabelle,” not her cousin. He hoped Bella was not ill. Or perhaps Dr. Jordan was visiting Miss Grant and had asked for Bella because she was chaperoning them? That would make sense, though he could just be fooling himself.

The butler returned after what seemed an interminable amount of time to tell Lord Brooke that the ladies were not yet receiving and that he should return in two hours.

“The doctor is still with Lady Isabelle?” Lord Brooke asked, though he knew that he was and that it was none of his business. Still, the man had been up there a good ten minutes with no chaperone that Lord Brooke knew of, unless Bella’s cousin was with her. The flighty maid had come back down the stairs soon after she’d taken the doctor up, and Lady Dutton was probably still abed.

“I am not at liberty to say” was the butler’s reply, and Lord Brooke left, frustrated he’d been unable to see Bella, and wondering how he was going to survive the next two hours.

He had stayed up most of the night, cursing his stupidity, and wishing he could relive those moments with Bella in the garden so that he could do things differently. He’d been so overcome by the strength of his feelings for her; so bemused by the touch, and scent, and beauty of Bella, that he had hardly been aware of what he was saying. He thought she had merely been concerned with the propriety of the situation, and so sought to reassure her that he meant to marry her. It wasn’t until later that he realized he’d never told her that he was only complying with their mothers’ scheme because he had fallen in love with her. He had never even told her that he did love her! Nor had he actually proposed, but had just taken it for granted that she was amenable to an arranged marriage that he had not even wanted himself before he had come to know and love her. He didn’t think he could have handled the situation any worse if he had been trying to do so.

Nor had he discovered what her feelings were for him. He felt that she reciprocated his feelings, though he was uncertain to what degree. Certainly, it had appeared as if she loved him when she was sweetly and ardently returning his kisses—though that was not something he could think about for any length of time without going weak in the knees. However, these last few months his interactions with her had felt somewhat like a choreographed dance, where every time he would step forward she would immediately take a step back.

That was also why he had waited so long to speak to her about marriage. Not only had he felt there was no need to hurry, as they had been unofficially engaged for years, but he had also not wanted her to feel like he was putting her under too much pressure, as her mother had. He had wanted them to have a real courtship, something which most participants in an arranged marriage were deprived of.

But it was odd that Bella had seemed as if she was unaware of the plans their mothers had made for them. Had she assumed that the arrangement had ended with the death of her mother? Should he have plainly spoken of it when she first arrived in town? But at that point he was unsure if he was willing to submit to the arrangement himself. And he had made oblique references to it on their first drive and at the Royal Academy, and both times she had not seemed interested in pursuing the topic.

His thoughts chased themselves around and around in his head until he thought he would go mad, while the clock seemed to stubbornly refuse to advance those one hundred twenty minutes—seven thousand two hundred seconds—until he could see her again.

Nancy had knocked on Issie’s door, announced that the doctor was there to see her, let him in, and immediately left, shutting the door behind him.

Issie, who had been soundly sleeping before Nancy’s knock, was horrified Dr. Jordan had found her in such a disheveled state. She couldn’t believe he was there, and closed her eyes at the sight of his handsome face.

But her bedraggled, tear-ridden, haggard countenance affected the doctor far more than the sight of her with her hair elaborately arranged and her cheeks and lips rouged ever could. The affection and attraction and admiration that had been germinating in his heart suddenly burst into the full flower of love. He deeply regretted his words of the previous evening and had gone there with the intention of offering a heartfelt apology, and had been surprised to be ushered into her bedchamber. (He wasn’t sure that she would agree to see him at all.) But upon seeing how heartbroken and distraught she looked, he rushed to her bedside to pull her into his arms and press kisses on her rumpled hair, with absolutely no concern for the gross impropriety of what he was doing.

“Please, please forgive me, my dearest,” he said, as he still had no idea what he was supposed to call her. But if Issie had any objection to this form of address she did not mention it. Indeed, it was a good thing she was only half-awake and not fully coherent, as she would not have forgiven Dr. Jordan so easily had she had time to remember how deeply his words had hurt her the evening before. But in her dazed state she submitted docilely to his caresses and endearments, and after a moment began to cooperate a little too enthusiastically, considering the fact that the two of them were in a bed together and were not yet married or even engaged.

Thankfully, the doctor came to his senses and pulled away. “My dear—” he said, and then, as if realizing he would need to use her name at some point, asked, “May I call you Isabelle?”

“Please, call me Issie,” she replied, leaning in for another kiss. Dr. Jordan could not bear to disappoint her, or himself, and there were another few kisses given and received before he pulled away again, this time to get up and walk a discreet distance away from the bed.

“Issie, you may call me James,” he said, pushing his hair out of his eyes and making other adjustments to his appearance in an effort to appear more composed and less shaken than he actually was.

“James,” Issie said.

James was so charmed by the sight and sound of his name on her lips that he was overcome by the desire to kiss her again. However, firmly resisting the temptation, he said, “Issie, I was very wrong last night to speak to you the way that I did. Please say you will forgive me.”

This statement caused Issie to become fully alert, and some of her anger was rekindled at this reminder. “You were very unkind to me,” she said.

“I will never be so again,” he promised. “I had not realized until I considered it later that my prejudice against the aristocracy was as deep as their prejudice against the lower classes. It is a grave fault, and I will work diligently to overcome it. I admired you greatly when I thought you were Miss Grant; indeed, you are the most intelligent and interesting and enchanting woman I have ever met, and you were Lady Isabelle that entire time. So obviously your title is irrelevant.”

Issie nodded her head in acceptance of his apology in a very dignified gesture that, though she did not know it, made her appear every inch the grande dame. James, observing her with a wry smile, gave a mental shrug. He loved this woman, in spite of her aristocratic blood, and, if he were honest with himself, found her little refined mannerisms quite adorable.

“Issie, I know I’m considered far beneath you and from the world’s viewpoint couldn’t, and probably shouldn’t, aspire to your hand, but”—and at this point he kneeled on the floor beside her bed—“will you marry me? I promise to love you most tenderly for the rest of our lives together.”

Issie, her eyes bright with unshed tears, gestured for him to get up. “Please, do not kneel to me, James. It will only further your negative opinion of the upper classes,” she said, with a smile that glowed as brightly as her eyes did.

James smiled back, but got to his feet a little uncertainly. After all, she still hadn’t said yes.

“Tell me before I answer you: Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked shyly.

“No,” he said promptly. “I think you are the most beautiful and desirable woman I’ve ever met. Particularly after you began eating beefsteak,” he added, as she was looking a tad pale that morning and he thought a reminder might be in order.

“I would be honored to marry you, James,” she said, after she had swallowed the lump in her throat. The doctor expelled a quite audible sigh of relief. “Really,” Issie continued, “you should be glad you’re marrying a wealthy aristocrat, since we can work together to ensure my fortune is used for the benefit of the poor. Because, though I did not appreciate the manner in which you said what you did, I strongly agree with the principles that caused you to say it. I find your desire to fight injustice and corruption very noble, ” she said with a teasing smile.

She held out her arms to him, but he did not return to her side, even though her little speech had made him want to kiss her till they were both breathless. “Issie, I promise to explain to you the reason why after we are married, but at this present moment I do not think it wise if we continue to embrace while you’re wearing a flimsy nightdress and lying in bed.”

“Yes, I remember that you were quite disappointed to find me waiting for you in bed the last time you visited me in my room,” Issie said.

“Believe me, I will feel much differently after we are married,” the doctor said with a grin.

Since it was now Thursday and the next day Issie was supposed to leave London with her aunt, she felt there was no time to waste and told James they should elope that very afternoon.

He was inclined to argue with her at first, as he felt they should at least try to get her relatives’ permission before taking such a step. But when she explained that her aunt would insist that she marry Lord Brooke, who he realized was the very handsome, expensively dressed gentleman he’d seen waiting for “Lady Isabelle” in the hall, he quickly came around to her way of thinking and went to see about hiring a post chaise for the trip to Gretna Green.

Issie went to Bella’s room to tell her what was happening and was disappointed that she did not appear to be in the house, but neither was she concerned by her absence. Bella frequently went to ride or walk in Hyde Park, or she might have gone to make her goodbyes to Catherine Adams. Issie hoped Bella would return before she left for Gretna Green, but jotted off a quick note just in case she did not. She also packed a trunk and retrieved her jewel case, though when she checked she was relieved to find she had quite a bit of cash on hand. And though she did not know how much it cost to fund a trip to Gretna Green, she felt that a hundred pounds was probably sufficient.

She called a footman to take her trunk downstairs, explaining to him that Dr. Jordan would be arriving with a chaise and he should give the trunk to him.

After another hour went by and Issie realized that Bella wouldn’t be back in time for her to say goodbye, she left the note she’d written on Bella’s bed and made her way down the stairs and to the back of the house just as the chaise Dr. Jordan had hired pulled up.

Lord Brooke arrived just moments before the doctor did, giving his card to the butler, who promptly ushered him into the drawing room.

There he was forced to wait at least ten minutes before Lady Dutton finally made an entrance. During this time, though he did not know it, Issie’s trunk was secured to the post chaise and she and the doctor drove off on their journey to Gretna Green and the beginning of their life together.

“It’s about time you called,” Lady Dutton greeted Lord Brooke. “I imagine you’re here to discuss the wedding arrangements. You certainly left it to the very last minute. Everyone who is anyone is leaving town.”

“Good afternoon,” Lord Brooke said, ignoring Lady Dutton’s words. “I am actually here to speak to Lady Isabelle. In private,” he added.

“You mean you still haven’t spoken to her?” Lady Dutton asked in exasperation.

“I have spoken to her. I just neglected to get her acceptance.”

“You don’t need it. It’s been understood these past five years. I honestly don’t understand why you two aren’t married already. It should have been done while my niece was alive to witness it. Still, Elizabeth did promise the girl a season, and I did my best to fulfill that promise,” Lady Dutton said, before poking her head out the door to tell the butler to ask Lady Isabelle to come down.

“She is not in the house, milady,” the butler replied.

“Are you sure? It’s not that sickly cousin of hers that has left? She was to be gone by tomorrow.”

“Both the young ladies are gone. They left earlier today, one with a valise and one with a trunk,” the butler said.

Lord Brooke made an exclamation of shock but Lady Dutton waved him to silence. “He’s merely confused the two girls. Happens to me all the time. Miss Grant was moving on to another situation.”

“What situation; where?” Lord Brooke asked.

“How should I know? That’s no concern of mine. She could not continue to batten on Lady Isabelle for the rest of her life,” Lady Dutton said, oblivious to the look of shocked disgust Lord Brooke directed at her, and turned to address the butler again. “Wilson, was it Miss Grant who left?”

“It is as I told you, milady. One young lady left this morning, and the other ten or fifteen minutes ago; but both are gone.”

“And they both took baggage with them?” Lord Brooke asked the butler.

“Yes, milord.”

“I do not understand,” Lady Dutton said, frowning. “Lady Isabelle knew we were going to Warwickshire tomorrow. I informed her of it myself just yesterday.”

“Is that when you also informed Miss Grant she couldn’t continue to ‘batten on Lady Isabelle’ and should find a different situation?” Lord Brooke asked contemptuously. “It’s obvious that they chose to leave rather than be separated.” Lord Brooke turned back to the butler. “Could you check their rooms? Perhaps one of them left a message.”

He furiously paced the drawing room while he waited, trying to think of a plan of action should there be no note found, but very soon the maidservant he’d seen earlier ran in, clutching a folded piece of paper.

She was about to hand it to Lady Dutton, but Lord Brooke intercepted her, quickly opening and reading it himself.

Dr. Jordan and I are going to Gretna Green to be married. You should travel to Fenborough Hall and we will meet you there after we return. He truly loves me, and I love him, and I need not marry Lord Brooke.

Lord Brooke felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, and he did not resist when Lady Dutton pulled the letter from his grasp.

“It’s hard to read; I am not sure why she writes with such a cramped hand, but does she say she went to Gretna Green with a doctor?” Lady Dutton said, squinting at the note she held.

“Yes,” Lord Brooke said, though it was an effort for him to say anything at all. If he had been alone he felt as if he could have cried. The first and only other time he had done so as an adult was when his sister had died.

“You must go after them!” Lady Dutton said. “Hurry, you could still catch them!”

Lord Brooke did not respond, but turned and left the room, snatching up his gloves and hat from a table in the hallway. Lady Dutton followed him. “You’re going after them?” she asked eagerly.

“No, Lady Dutton, I am not. You read her note. She was so eager to escape marriage to me that she eloped with another man. And she said she lov—” His voice wavered a little on the word, and he cleared his throat before completing the sentence: “She loves him.”

“What does that matter! She is throwing herself away on a doctor when she might have married an earl!”

Lord Brook didn’t trust himself to speak and walked out of the townhouse, ignoring Lady Dutton as she continued to insist he go after them.