Chapter 3

3

A doctor did come to see Issie, and Bella was concerned that the examination would kill her before her mysterious illness could.

When Issie and Bella discussed it later, they very magnanimously agreed that it wasn’t entirely Dr. Jordan’s fault that he had exacerbated Issie’s nervous condition. He was not to blame that their only experience of doctors thus far had been with the middle-aged, rotund, balding fellow who was Lady Strickland’s physician, and who one could only imagine had emerged from his mother’s womb as a nondescript fatherly figure. Certainly, he could never have been a personable man like this one, who was no more than five and twenty years of age, with tousled blond hair that he had not had the time to cut, so that he had to frequently sweep it out of his hazel eyes. Based on their previous experience with members of the medical profession, neither Issie nor Bella had expected to meet such a handsome young doctor. And Issie was worried about how she could hide her attraction to him while he was inspecting her from head to toe.

Bella thought Issie would have found the doctor’s visit excruciatingly awkward and embarrassing, in any event, as no other human had touched either of them as familiarly as Dr. Jordan proceeded to touch Issie during his examination. (Though Nancy had come close to doing so when she’d had her hands down Bella’s bodice.)

Merely his visit to her bedchamber, as unthreatening as he tried to be with his calm, polite demeanor and softly voiced questions, overwhelmed poor Issie. She clutched at her chest and began breathing even more shallowly than before, so that Bella could only surmise her palpitations had increased in severity.

The previous evening Issie had insisted on bathing and washing her hair, and this morning Bella had helped her to sit upright in bed, with a pillow behind her back. Issie made a very pretty invalid, as the increased activity, as limited as it was, along with the reflection from her pink morning gown, had put a tinge of color in her pale cheeks, and her brown curls were fluffy from their recent washing. The doctor, after asking what her symptoms included and learning that she had no cough or pain but was experiencing weakness, palpitations, and nervous attacks, told her he needed to listen to her heart, which he did by placing his ear against her chest.

Issie gasped.

“Please breathe normally, Miss…” the doctor said, his ear still pressed against her breast.

“Grant,” Issie whispered, and Bella realized that Issie was again assuming Bella’s identity, though Bella was unsure of her reason. Perhaps Issie did not feel she should take the time to identify herself as “Lady Isabelle” at the same time the doctor was attempting to listen to her heart, or she did not wish to embarrass him by pointing out her exalted rank. Bella did not correct him, either, deciding it scarcely mattered if Dr. Jordan failed to use Issie’s title while he had his cheek pressed against her bosom.

“Could you please cough?” he asked a moment later, though to Issie, waiting in silence and acutely aware of every breath she took, it felt like an eternity had passed.

Issie dutifully coughed, and the doctor finally raised his head from her chest, his blond locks even more disordered than before.

“It doesn’t sound as if you have any fluid in your lungs,” he told Issie, who just stared at him with big eyes. “But your heart rate is quite elevated and your pulse quick and light.” He briefly pressed on Issie’s lower stomach and she gasped in shock. “I beg your pardon; I had to check for accumulation of fluid in your abdomen.” He drew back a little, but looked Issie over so carefully that Bella felt even more sympathy for her, as she would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of such a comprehensive perusal. This doctor was much more thorough than Lady Strickland’s physician had ever been. Perhaps that was why Lady Strickland was dead.

But Dr. Jordan wasn’t finished and reached for Issie’s hands next. “Your hands are too cold,” he said, after squeezing each one in turn, “but don’t appear to be swollen.”

He placed her hands by her sides and reached for the blanket that covered her feet. “I beg your pardon, Miss Grant, but I must examine your…other extremities as well,” he said, turning slightly pink, and Bella reflected that he must have the same horror of legs as the late, unlamented Lady Strickland. Though perhaps he was merely sensitive on her and Issie’s behalf, because he was aware that some ladies felt the word “leg” should not be spoken in polite society.

He uncovered Issie’s delicate little feet (which Bella secretly envied, as hers were not so dainty), and picked up first one foot, and then the other, gently squeezing them as he had her hands, and it was at this point that Bella feared Issie might not survive the examination, as she’d never seen her so agitated. Issie was clutching the bed, had her eyes squeezed shut, and looked as if she wished she could die, or at least disappear.

The doctor covered her feet and looked around the bedchamber, his gaze coming to rest on the stack of books on her bedside table. “Do you read a lot, Miss Grant?” he asked, as if it was an idle question.

“I do,” Issie said, a little defensively. “I enjoy it.”

The doctor smiled. “I enjoy reading myself. I wish I had more time for it.”

Issie smiled radiantly back at him, her first smile since he’d entered the room, and the doctor blinked in surprise, as if he had just realized that Issie was an attractive young woman and not an insentient body.

“Do you have any other hobbies or interests?” he asked, though he had picked up one of Issie’s books and was looking at it and didn’t seem too concerned with her reply.

“I play the pianoforte and sketch a little, but haven’t done much of those things since my mother died last year.”

“How did your mother die?” the doctor asked.

“She had an apoplexy,” Bella replied on Issie’s behalf, as she had noticed Issie’s voice was weak and breathless and she was worried she hadn’t the strength to answer so many questions.

“My condolences,” the doctor said, dipping his head in a polite bow. Issie murmured her thanks. “And so you spend most of your waking hours…” He placed the book down and looked directly at her.

“Reading,” said Issie, with a defiant expression that made it clear she would not appreciate any criticism of her favorite hobby.

“These attacks,” the doctor said, “are they frequent?”

“Recently they have been.”

“She’s never been strong,” Bella interjected, “but the nervous attacks seem to have started since we came to town, and she was unable to keep an appointment just recently because she’d had one.”

The doctor studied Issie a moment more in silence, and she began to pluck nervously at the bedcover. “You say your mother died last year. Have you been in mourning for her this entire time?” the doctor asked, and then continued before she could reply: “I suppose a better question would be: Have you been in the habit of going out or receiving visitors since her death?”

“No, not at all. It wouldn’t be proper, since I was in mourning. You are probably my first real visitor in a year,” Issie explained. “The only person that I’ve seen—other than servants—is my cousin”—she nodded in Bella’s direction—“and my great-aunt, once I arrived in town.”

“And did my visit cause an attack?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, yes,” Issie said, nodding her head. “It was quite the most vigorous attack I’ve ever had. My heart is still palpitating quite fiercely,” she said, looking up into his very un-doctor-like, far-too-handsome face, the sight of which was causing a strange fluttering in her abdomen, in addition to the one in her heart.

“I see,” he said, and Bella wondered if he did, while Issie, whose symptoms were very different from those she’d ever before experienced, hoped that he did not.

Bella walked the doctor down the stairs and to the door, asking him what was wrong with her cousin.

“I cannot be certain,” Dr. Jordan said. “There was a paper published a few years ago in which one of my colleagues reported a peculiar, and fatal, heart ailment he’d observed. I would hate to push Miss Grant into activity that would precipitate an attack, and it’s even more of a risk since it sounds as if she has a family history of such things. However, I also wonder if her sudden nervous attacks are because she’s become used to leading a solitary, sedentary life, and she’s weak from lack of physical activity. She could also be experiencing anxiety over normal human interactions to which she’s no longer accustomed. Especially as she’s spent the preceding year isolated from society due to her mourning period.”

“I suspect the same, Doctor, but I also fear pushing her into something that could prove damaging to her.”

“I would advise against forcing her to do anything too vigorous, for now. I will call again in a week and see how she does. If you are able to get her out of bed and into a chair, that would be helpful. Don’t be too ambitious, but it would be best if she does not become completely immobile.”

Bella thanked the doctor and sent him on his way, and went back upstairs to talk to Issie. One thing had become very clear: Issie was in no condition to have her come-out. Bella, realizing that meant she must now agree to take her place, wasn’t sure how she felt about the prospect. She suspected it might cause her to have a nervous attack, but then reflected that only noble, wealthy ladies were allowed to so indulge themselves, and that she’d be better off spending her time doing something more productive. So she went upstairs and began altering Issie’s dresses, since it appeared she would be wearing them for the next eight weeks.

The following day, Bella found herself at the point of no return. Lady Dutton took her on morning calls and introduced her to all those present, even to a patroness of the exclusive club Almack’s, as “Lady Isabelle.” Bella realized that, even if she might have one day been forgiven for appearing at court and being presented to Queen Charlotte under a false identity, she would never be forgiven for misleading Lady Jersey, one of the queens of London society.

But even after she and Lady Dutton had returned home, Bella’s trials weren’t over, for they soon had a caller of their own.

The butler brought a card to Aunt Lucretia to see if she would receive the visitor, and once the lady had been able to decipher what it said, she immediately told the butler they were “at home to Lord Brooke.”

The name meant nothing to Bella, but when the gentleman entered the room, Bella immediately recognized him as the very attractive man she’d practically assaulted at St. James’s Palace.

She found her favorable impression of him hadn’t been false or exaggerated, as now that she saw him again he was just as handsome as she’d remembered, even though his complexion was not fashionably pale, like those of the gentlemen she’d met since she’d arrived in town. No, this man had a healthy tan and looked as if he spent most of his time outdoors, rather than at the gaming or dining table. He wore his dark hair in the Titus cut, cropped closely at the back with the front swept forward, but the front pieces were not overly long and pomaded into curls like those of some who wore the style. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything to Lady Dutton about their previous meeting, as she imagined she’d broken numerous rules, first by sneaking out of the queen’s drawing room, then by colliding into Lord Brooke, and finally by staying to converse with him even though they hadn’t been introduced. But when she met his gaze with a look of anxiety in her own, he smiled at her and winked, and she expelled a breath of relief before returning his smile.

After telling Lord Brooke he could be seated, Lady Dutton said, “I need not introduce you to Lady Isabelle, as your mothers accomplished that before their untimely passing. ’Tis a pity they’re not here to see you two reunited.”

This was an unwelcome surprise to Bella, and she was immediately overcome by panic. He had already been introduced to Issie? If so, he had to now know that Bella was a fraud. And why hadn’t Issie told Bella she had a gentleman acquaintance in London?

“We were previously introduced, but I think it’s been so long since our last meeting that Lady Isabelle has forgotten it altogether,” Lord Brooke said, apparently assuming it was embarrassment over her failure to recognize him that was causing Bella’s stricken silence.

“It has been a long time,” Bella said, thinking that a safe thing to say as he’d said so himself. “I cannot recollect exactly; how long has it been?”

“It had to have been more than five years ago now, perhaps six. My mother died in 1813, and you and your mother visited Bluffton Castle some time before her death.”

“Of course, now I remember.” Bella actually did remember the occasion. Bella had been miserable at the time, as she had not been allowed to accompany Issie on a visit to a castle. Now she was very glad she had been left at home. “Though if it were that long ago I would have been practically a child, as I’m nineteen now,” said Bella, who was actually twenty. But Issie was nineteen.

“Yes, you were still a child at our last meeting,” Lord Brooke said, subjecting her to a piercing stare. “Which might explain why I find you so very different now from how I remember you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that remark; is it an insult or a compliment?” Bella asked, so nervous that she was about to be ignominiously revealed as an impostor that she scarcely knew what she was saying.

“It is merely a statement of fact. If I said you’d changed for the better I’d be insulting you as a child, but since I do think you’ve become an extraordinarily lovely lady, I was obviously a callow fool who lacked the discernment necessary to appreciate the uncut diamond in my midst.”

“That was a very pretty compliment and I thank you,” Bella said, relaxing a little at his remark. It appeared he found Bella different from his recollections of Lady Isabelle, but that he didn’t suspect she wasn’t Lady Isabelle. “They could have used such diplomatic skills at the Congress of Vienna,” she said with a pert smile, and he returned the smile with a knowing one of his own and a slight nod, as if acknowledging that, in trying to be tactful, the compliment he’d paid her was a little too flowery and bordered on the pompous.

“Lord Brooke is too much of a gentleman to involve himself in such affairs,” Lady Dutton said, breaking into their conversation. Bella and Lord Brooke exchanged a look of surprise at such an absurd statement, as those who participated in the peace negotiations in Vienna had been the premier gentlemen of the kingdom. Bella thought Lady Dutton must have been concerned that “Lady Isabelle” was about to display her bluestocking tendencies, and so she had forced a change of subject. But Bella wasn’t too disappointed at Lady Dutton’s interruption, as Lord Brooke’s very observant, intelligent gaze had politely turned from Bella to his hostess, and it gave Bella a chance to compose herself. She was extremely relieved that he didn’t realize that she was an impostor, and even further impressed at his ability to rescue her from her foolish blunders, conversationally or otherwise. But perhaps he was too smooth? Such a debonair, attractive, confident man must find it easy to turn the heads of naive young women like herself. She’d have to be on her guard around him, for more reasons than one.

However, Bella was very pleased when she arrived at her first ball and saw that Lord Brooke was present. She told herself that her pleasure was due to the fact that she was already acquainted with him and she knew so few people in London. That had to have been the reason for the leaping of her pulse when their eyes met and the spontaneous smile that rushed to her lips.

So glowing was her smile that Lord Brooke looked over his shoulder as if to confirm it was directed at him. Then he bowed his head at her in acknowledgment, and returned the smile with an appealing one of his own, before crossing the room to where she and Lady Dutton stood.

He bowed to the ladies and greeted them before asking Bella to dance.

Bella happily accepted and, once they were on the floor, thanked him for asking her. “I know so few people, you see, and this is my first real ball. I would have been so disappointed if no one had asked me to dance.”

Lord Brooke studied the expression of the lovely young woman who spoke so confidingly to him, unsure at first if she was indulging in false modesty in an attempt to win a compliment. Surely, she had to realize she need have no fear of joining the wallflowers. But judging by her expression she was being completely sincere, and he was struck once again by the depth of her charm. Never had he met a woman so vibrant and genuine, who gazed up at him with her whole heart shining from her eyes. He was grateful her sheltered upbringing had not irrevocably crushed her, as he had been afraid it would. Either Lady Strickland had not been able to stifle her natural spirit, or now that she was free from her mother’s tyranny she was finally able to let her true personality blossom forth.

Nor was there any hint of the extreme shyness she’d shown when he’d seen her at court. “How did your presentation go?” he asked her, while they were waiting for the first couple to progress down the line. “Were you able to retreat from the royal presence without injuring yourself or others?”

She laughed. “No injuries, thank goodness; unless I injured you when I crashed into you so suddenly.”

“Not a bit. And even if you had, I never complain when beautiful ladies throw themselves into my arms,” Lord Brooke said, and Lady Isabelle did display some shyness then, as she looked down with a blush.

But she quickly recovered and, peeping mischievously up at him, said, “If it happens to you on such a frequent basis, then perhaps I was not the clumsy one.” He laughed but had no time to reply as the dance separated them.

“Have you been living alone at Fenborough Hall since your mother’s passing, or do you have other family?” Lord Brooke asked, when they were waiting again at the bottom of the set.

“My cousin lives with me. We grew up together and are more like sisters than cousins. She came to town with me as well, but her health doesn’t permit her to go out in society.”

“I am sorry she is not well enough to go out. Perhaps I could meet her the next time I call,” Lord Brooke said, and though he meant what he said, he said it mostly to be polite. So he was surprised when Lady Isabelle looked startled and frowned. “Though if she’s not able to receive guests, I completely understand,” he hurried to add.

“Unfortunately she is not,” she said, and looked so distressed that Lord Brooke assumed her cousin suffered from some sort of serious illness and that it would be best to change the subject. He asked Lady Isabelle about her interests and pastimes and was pleased to find she enjoyed riding.

“Perhaps we could ride together some morning,” he suggested, and since she was new to society, she did not recognize this for the boon it was. The highly eligible Lord Brooke did not usually take nubile young ladies riding in Hyde Park for the world to see. “Of course, it’s not quite as enjoyable in town as it is in the country, but it’s the second-most agreeable form of exercise for a young lady having her come-out.”

“The second -most? What is the first?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask,” Lord Brooke said, just before he grasped her by both hands to lead her down the middle of the dancers and back again, doing so with such vigor and athleticism that Bella laughed from pure joy.

The dance ended shortly afterward, and when Lord Brooke returned her to Lady Dutton’s side she was besieged by gentlemen with dance requests. Lord Brooke berated himself for his stupidity in not securing another dance with Lady Isabelle while he’d had the opportunity, but was able to gain Lady Dutton’s permission to take her on a drive the next day, and so contented himself with that.

When she returned home Bella was too elated and excited to sleep, even after Nancy had helped her undress and left her alone in her darkened chamber. She wished Issie were awake so that she could recount every moment of that glorious evening. For the first time in her life she had truly been the “belle of the ball.” But as soon as the thought crossed her mind she laughed at herself, both for her silly pun and for letting the attention go to her head. There would not have been a line of eager gentlemen begging to dance with her if she’d attended the ball as the obscure Arabella Grant. However, as Lady Isabelle, rich young heiress of noble birth, she was bound to be sought after.

And then all of her joyous feelings dissipated, replaced with deep misgivings about the imposture in which she’d agreed to participate.

She realized now that she had been very shortsighted. She should have considered the ramifications such a decision would have for her future, rather than merely Issie’s. Because while she had argued, very reasonably, that such a pretense would hinder Issie’s marital prospects, Bella now realized it even more disastrously affected her own.

It was suddenly clear to her that if she did meet a man she desired to marry or even have as a friend, such a relationship could never amount to anything now that she had presented herself under a false identity. Whereas if she had immediately told the truth to Lady Dutton and waited for Issie to improve in health, Bella might have met some of these same gentlemen and discovered whether they actually admired her and were not just attracted by Lady Isabelle’s wealth and status. It was true that Bella would not have been invited to all the high-society events that Issie was, but she would have been allowed to attend some entertainments. And she could have promenaded or gone riding in the park with Issie, and through her have been introduced to the same persons she was meeting now, but as herself, the inconsequential, poor Miss Grant, not the noble, wealthy Lady Isabelle.

And what future was there for Bella if she didn’t find a husband? She knew that Issie would always offer her a home but, as fond as she was of her cousin, Bella would never be content living the isolated and reclusive life that Issie genuinely enjoyed. Bella wanted to be married; she wanted children; she wanted the familial fondness and affection she’d been deprived of her entire life. It was true that Issie loved her—and Bella did not know what she would have done without that love in a life that had been barren of it—but it was a slightly selfish love, which required that Bella subordinate her own wants and needs in favor of Issie’s. Bella recognized it wasn’t Issie’s fault that they’d fallen into such a pattern; it had started when Bella, the elder by one year, had designated herself her cousin’s protector and tried to shield Issie from her autocratic mother. It was also a result of Bella being made to feel second-best by Lady Strickland from the moment she’d arrived at Fenborough Hall as a three-year-old and having no other option but to accept that role.

However, Bella’s habit of giving in to Issie had now led her into this unfortunate situation, and she resolved to be firmer in the future. Though such a resolution was of no help at all in her present difficulties.

Because, while Bella had danced with several gentlemen that evening whom she had found congenial, it was the impossibility of any future relationship with one gentleman in particular that was the cause of her current depression. She had felt a connection to Lord Brooke from the very start of their acquaintance, when she’d so clumsily bumped into him and he had so gallantly, and kindly, accepted the blame. As handsome as he undeniably was, she found his kindness even more appealing.

But it was folly to cry over spilt milk, and she couldn’t reverse her ill-considered decision at this point. She’d only recently met Lord Brooke, they were barely acquainted, and now that she knew there was no possibility of a future with him, she could take measures to protect her heart. Surely, it would do no harm to enjoy a light flirtation with him and the other gentlemen she’d met, all of whom appeared more than eager to flirt with her. In fact, she was most likely flattering herself that any of them had any serious intentions toward her. Or would have had any, if they’d known who she really was. And, while Bella had not formed a distinct picture of the man she’d hoped to marry when she’d dreamt of a future family, an earl would have been the last man she would have envisioned, or desired. Living with Lady Strickland had made her wary of the nobility. She did not want to spend the next forty or fifty years of her life feeling inferior, as she had for the first twenty.

So she attempted to dismiss her anxious concerns and settled back into the plump feather pillow on her beautiful canopied bed. She would forget any foolish notion of forming a permanent attachment to a gentleman she met this season and just do her best to enjoy herself. This was a holiday the likes of which she’d never experienced before, and never would again.

It was unfortunate that the same could be said of the likelihood of ever meeting another man like Lord Brooke.