Chapter 4

4

It had become a custom for the two girls to break their fast in their rooms, partly because they were able to spend some time alone together, but also because Bella had no desire to encounter Lord Dutton again over the poached eggs.

Bella was relieved to find that Issie’s health had improved tremendously, and so Bella had encouraged her to make the short walk to her own more spacious chamber so that they could breakfast there. Keeping in mind Dr. Jordan’s warnings, however, she was extremely considerate of Issie, helping her rise from bed and offering her an arm to lean on. But Issie seemed much stronger than she had a few days earlier when the doctor had called. Bella wondered if it could have been merely the prospect of her presentation that had sickened her so. Bella was definitely not an expert on the science of such a thing, but she had observed that the mind could exert a powerful influence on the body.

While they were eating, Bella confided in Issie some of the concerns that had troubled her the night before, but Issie was quick to dismiss them.

“I understand how you feel, Bella, but you’ll have more than enough time for such things in the future, if you’re still convinced you want to marry,” Issie said. “You needn’t rush into bondage now, just as we’ve achieved our freedom.”

Bella wondered why and how Issie had formed such a negative opinion of marriage, as it was Issie’s father who had been under the iron rule of his wife while he’d been alive and, as far as Bella knew, Issie had never witnessed firsthand a marriage where the woman had been in servitude to the man. But Bella was aware there were far more examples of that than the opposite, and so Issie must know it as well. Bella understood, too, why Issie wanted them to enjoy their independence a little longer. It was refreshing not to have to answer to anyone; not even Lady Dutton, whose chaperonage was surprisingly lax.

But even though Bella, like Issie, had no desire to rush into marriage, neither did she want to miss out on an opportunity that may never be presented to her again. “It’s not that I want to marry immediately,” she explained, “it’s just that I’ve never met a gentleman as nice as Lord Brooke—”

“Lord Brooke!” Issie interrupted, before Bella could revise the measly description she’d given of him, as she’d just been about to do. Certainly, Lord Brooke was deserving of a more flattering accolade than “nice.” But apparently Issie didn’t think so.

“I don’t know why you persist in admiring that man. Didn’t I tell you how haughtily he treated me when I visited him and his mother?”

“He was what, one-and-twenty at the time? He was probably just ill at ease,” Bella said defensively. “And you were what, fourteen? How did you expect him to treat you? If he had paid you too much attention when you were so young that would have been strange. And you weren’t old enough to be an astute judge of character, either. I told you how kind he was to me at our first meeting.”

“You are very pretty, Bella. No doubt that influenced his behavior toward you.” And from Issie’s tone of voice it was obvious that Lord Brooke’s preference for attractive females was another point against him in her view.

Bella tried her best to raise Lord Brooke in her cousin’s esteem, but Issie was firm in her belief that he was not good enough for her dear cousin.

“Trust me, Bella. We’ll go to Bath or Tunbridge Wells in a year or two, and you’ll meet someone who makes Lord Brooke look paltry in comparison,” Issie told her, and Bella wondered how Issie had managed to form such a negative impression of the man, and one the exact opposite of her own.

Later that day Bella discovered that she had not been immodest in declaring herself the “belle of the ball,” if only in her thoughts, because more than one person had voiced the same opinion. And based on this widely pronounced sentiment, together with her assumed name, some London wit had christened her with the sobriquet “Lady Belle.”

She first heard this new title when the gentlemen who had danced with her—along with some who had not successfully secured a dance—presented themselves in Lady Dutton’s drawing room that afternoon for “morning” calls. There were even a few young ladies present, who had been brought by their mothers and chaperones in the hope that Lady Belle’s popularity was somehow contagious.

Bella was completely overwhelmed by her reception from London society. While of course she had hoped to be liked and had greatly enjoyed the attention she’d received at her first ball, she hadn’t expected, or wanted, to be the toast of the town. It would be much more difficult to keep up her masquerade while under such keen scrutiny.

But quoting another proverb to herself— in for a penny, in for a pound —she resolved to do her best to enjoy the attention. And such a resolution didn’t prove at all difficult once Lord Brooke entered the room.

He was greeted warmly by many of those present, and Bella observed that he appeared to be well-liked. She only wished Issie was there to see it.

However, the other gentlemen were not as happy with him when, after a few minutes, he reminded Lady Dutton of her promise to allow Lady Isabelle to drive with him, and there were loud complaints that Lord Brooke was trying to cut them out with “Lady Belle.”

Later, after they had made their escape and Lord Brooke had successfully navigated through the worst of the traffic, he asked Bella what she thought of her new nickname.

“I like it,” Bella said, a little defiantly, hoping he wouldn’t think her vain for admitting it. Perhaps it would have been more ladylike to have put on a modest facade.

But Lord Brooke didn’t seem at all offended. “I like it, too. It’s not only accurate,” he said, darting an admiring glance at his companion, “but it also seems to fit you better than ‘Isabelle.’?” He then hurried to add: “Not that Isabelle’s not a beautiful name. It is. But it seems a little too…formal, for you.”

Bella thought it was funny that his statement held true whether applied to Issie or herself. Issie had only ever been called Isabelle by her mother. Even the servants had referred to her as “Lady Issie” whenever Lady Strickland had been out of earshot.

“No one calls me Isabelle,” she said.

“You are called Belle, then?” he asked.

Bella heartily wished she had not continued this conversation. She had no desire to be known as “Issie” by this man; being called Isabelle had been difficult enough. She made a sudden decision to answer him truthfully, as herself. “Actually, my cousin, and those who know me best, call me Bella.”

“Bella,” he repeated, as if trying out the name, and Bella shivered, both in fear of what she’d just admitted and its possible ramifications, and at the sound of her pet name on his lips. “I wouldn’t presume to call you that, however, as I am not one of those who knows you best. Yet,” he added with a grin, and Bella wondered if she should view his words as a promise or a warning.

“I also haven’t granted you permission to do so, Lord Brooke, ” Bella reminded him. Though she would have gladly allowed him to call her Bella and dispense with her assumed title altogether if she didn’t realize it would seem incredibly forward.

“Please, call me my lord Brooke,” he said. “And I will call you my lady Bella.”

“I hardly think that would be appropriate,” Bella said, but she couldn’t keep from smiling as she said it, and he didn’t appear to take her half-hearted rebuke at all seriously. He had a teasing, boyish smile on his face as he exchanged glances with her, and Bella could not fathom how Issie had been so completely immune to his charm, even at fourteen. She realized that this was undoubtedly for the best, however, because it would have been far worse if Issie had become infatuated with him before Bella had had the opportunity to do so.

They entered Hyde Park just then, and she was grateful when Lord Brooke began explaining to her some of its features. Particularly since the sight that greeted her was an extraordinary one. Never in her life had she seen so many people gathered in one location. Or even at multiple times in multiple locations.

However, she later discovered that the thousands of people riding, driving, and perambulating through the park that day were only a fraction of the fifty thousand it was said congregated there on a Sunday when the weather was fine. She learned also that a Persian ambassador who visited London in 1809 claimed there had been at least one hundred thousand persons present on his excursion to Hyde Park. (Though she suspected a tourist might be inclined to exaggerate, and wondered how he could have possibly counted them.)

But even though the park wasn’t at its busiest at that particular moment, she was still surprised and a trifle overwhelmed by the crowds, and so was happy to ride silently beside Lord Brooke as she looked avidly about her. Until, that is, it occurred to her that such behavior marked her as an unsophisticated rustic.

When she grew conscious of her bad manners, she turned to Lord Brooke suddenly, an apology on her lips, but if he had felt that she was behaving rudely, his expression gave no indication of it. He was watching her with a smile, which made Bella feel slightly self-conscious. It was true that they were proceeding at a snail’s pace so he had no need to pay strict attention to the horses, who were following the carriage in front of them, but Bella thought there must be many more interesting sights for him to turn his attention to. Perhaps he was jaded by it all, this not being his first visit.

“I apologize for gaping,” Bella said, gesturing to the crowds around them, “but this is a new experience for me.”

“It’s quite all right. I’m well entertained.” Bella frowned, thinking he was amused by her ignorance. He saw her expression and hurried to explain. “Your face is so expressive. I enjoy seeing London again for the first time, through your eyes.”

Bella relaxed at his explanation and felt a little foolish that she had jumped to the conclusion he was observing her in a critical manner. Her experience with Lady Strickland had made her overly sensitive. “What is your opinion of London?” she asked him.

“I like to visit, but I prefer life in the country. I’m obliged to come to town because of my seat in the House of Lords, and I do enjoy a night at my club and even the occasional ball or lecture, but life feels more…purposeful in the country. Of course, I’m in a privileged position in that I inherited a productive estate, but the management of it is no small task.” He exchanged nods with a gentleman passing by on horseback before asking: “What about you? How are you enjoying life in town as opposed to the country?”

“I have very little experience of town, but it’s definitely superior thus far to the country,” Bella replied, and was shaken by an involuntary shudder at the thought of her life at Fenborough Hall prior to her aunt’s death.

Lord Brooke appeared as if he understood a great deal from that one sentence, and unfortunately decided to pursue the topic she would have avoided at all costs. “It was remiss of me, but I never expressed my condolences at the loss of your mother.”

“Thank you,” Bella said, but before she could turn the subject, he continued: “She and my mother were rather close, you know.”

“Were they?” Bella asked, congratulating herself on the ambiguity of that reply.

“Perhaps ‘close’ is not the right word. It would be more accurate to say that they shared similar ambitions. But I imagine you know very well what I’m referring to, so I won’t embarrass you by mentioning it. At least, not now, when we’ve only just become reacquainted.” He smiled reassuringly at Bella, while looking at her in a way that seemed to imply they shared a great secret, and Bella smiled back, while hoping she appeared as if she knew what he was talking about. She resolved to ask Issie about it at the earliest opportunity.

“I didn’t know your mother well; indeed, I hardly knew her at all, but it seemed to me that she was rather…domineering,” Lord Brooke said, a little hesitantly.

“She was,” Bella replied, though she wondered if it would have been wiser to prevaricate. Still, she’d resolved to tell the truth whenever possible, and she wouldn’t lie about Lady Strickland. “She was not a very sympathetic person.”

“My mother was not particularly motherly, either,” Lord Brooke said, with a little shrug, as if it mattered naught to him, and Bella thought his mother must have been a very coldhearted woman, indeed, to neglect the bright, engaging child he must have been. “I think my sister suffered from her indifference more than I did, however.”

“I had forgotten you have a sister,” Bella said, as she had never heard Issie refer to her and knew that Issie must have met her rarely, if at all.

Lord Brooke immediately confirmed Bella’s supposition. “I doubt you would have ever had the opportunity to meet. Lucy was twelve years my senior. She married at eighteen and started a family of her own soon after, so was not at Bluffton Castle when you visited. I would have been very pleased to introduce you, but unfortunately she passed away two years ago.”

“I am so sorry,” Bella said, very sincerely, as she could tell he felt the loss deeply.

“Thank you. Despite the age difference, we were very close. That is why I did not suffer from my mother’s neglect; Lucy amply filled that place, even though she was still a child herself when I was born,” he said, with a reminiscent smile. “She was a widow when she died, and I am guardian to her two boys. The eldest is nineteen and inherited his father’s estate, which thankfully is only twenty miles from my own, so I’m able to visit frequently.”

“No wonder you feel like you lead a more purposeful life in the country. It sounds as if you have a great deal to keep you busy.”

“Perhaps it was because Lucy had warned me of the pitfalls, but I was able to see that a pleasure-seeking lifestyle was ultimately unsatisfying. As I mentioned, I enjoy it occasionally, while not making it the center of my life.” He stopped a little abruptly and looked at her with a self-mocking smile. “I sound like a complete and total prig, don’t I? Here you are, enjoying your first London season, and I’m pontificating on the virtues of country living, like a vicar delivering a sermon.”

“You didn’t sound at all like that,” Bella protested.

“Yes, but you just said that you prefer town, so it’s rather pompous of me to try to persuade you to my point of view.”

“You’re doing no such thing! I am perfectly able to formulate my own views and opinions, and to remain true to them even though a persuasive gentleman might attempt to convince me otherwise,” she said. Her light tone saved her from sounding overly severe, though Lord Brooke’s quick glance made it obvious he understood the deeper implications of her words. She continued before he could reply: “While I am enjoying myself, I can see that once the novelty wears off, an endless round of parties and entertainment could quickly pall. And it’s not the country that I dislike. In fact, if I had a life as you describe—with a sense of purpose and a place that felt like a real home—why, I have no doubt that I’d prefer living in the country as well.”

“How would you describe a real home?” Lord Brooke asked.

“One in which there is fondness, and affection, and where every member of the household is valued. Where parents, instead of viewing their offspring as a burden to be disposed of in a way that brings financial reward, see them as a blessing and a gift. And one in which marriage is not entered into because of obligation or material considerations, but because there is true sympathy, respect, and…and love between the participants,” she replied, her voice trailing off a little at the end, as she grew embarrassed at stating her opinions so straightforwardly in front of a gentleman she hardly knew. She was also aware that, for the class of people she was pretending to belong to, love was not a prerequisite for marriage. But then, chiding herself for feeling ashamed, even fleetingly, about something she believed in so strongly, she sat up straighter and looked him in the eye, though she smiled self-mockingly as she did so. “Now I’m the one who sounds as if I’m delivering a sermon.”

“Not at all. I’ve never heard a clergyman speak so eloquently on such a subject, more’s the pity,” he told her, and her mock smile transformed into a genuine one, from relief that she hadn’t offended him.

And it was very obvious that she had not. Lord Brooke was looking at her with such warm approval that she wished she could remember the exact words she’d said to elicit that response. “I must admit that I feared your mother’s harsh treatment would crush your spirit, but now I believe it’s had the opposite effect. You have a strength of character that’s quite rare. And very admirable,” he said softly, and she was moved by the compliment, and the look in his eyes, until she remembered that he was laboring under a false impression. He thought she was Lady Isabelle; that she was Lady Strickland’s daughter. But still, even though she wasn’t whom he believed her to be, she knew herself to be just as deserving of his praise as Issie. Rather than let her aunt’s harsh treatment destroy her as it very well could have, she’d endured her many cruelties with fortitude and even protected Issie when she’d been able to do so.

Therefore, she graciously nodded her head in acceptance of his compliment and said, “Thank you, my lord.” And then she grinned when she realized she had just claimed him as hers, after all. He smiled back in acknowledgment of what she’d inadvertently said, and the serious mood was broken.

Bella had had every intention of asking Issie about the meaning of Lord Brooke’s cryptic comment regarding their mothers’ “ambitions,” but the lovely compliment he’d given her had caused her to completely forget that earlier part of their conversation. While she had become used to admiring remarks on her appearance since coming to town—and was inclined to dismiss most of them, for what rich, eligible young lady wasn’t considered beautiful?—she had received scant praise in the twenty years before her London debut. Lord Brooke was the only person she could recall, other than a favorite governess whom Lady Strickland had dismissed, who had complimented her on her character.

Another reason it had slipped her mind was because the social whirl kept her so busy in the days following her and Lord Brooke’s drive in the park that she rarely saw Issie except for their breakfasts together, and Bella had even missed a few of those. But when it was time for Dr. Jordan to call again, Bella was careful not to schedule any other activities so that she could be present to chaperone Issie.

Bella quizzed Issie about her health before the doctor arrived, asking her if she’d had any recurrence of the palpitations she’d experienced when they’d first arrived in town.

“Not really, no. I do seem to be somewhat stronger. But I’m sure it’s because I have been resting, and my poor nerves have not been subjected to the rigors of the London season,” she hurried to explain, probably so that Bella couldn’t complain that their exchange of identities had been unnecessary.

And once again, Issie’s expression and tone of voice as she referred to the “London season” displayed such an aversion that an unbiased observer might have assumed that it involved being pilloried in Charing Cross, rather than being feted and wooed by the most eligible gentlemen in London. Bella realized, however, that Lady Strickland’s constant criticism had greatly undermined Issie’s confidence and that is why she was so apprehensive about appearing in public. To Issie, a London season was comparable to being placed in the stocks. “I know you don’t wish to be introduced into society, Issie, but a short walk in the park would do you no end of good.”

But just the suggestion of such a thing caused Issie to clutch her chest and shake her head. “No, Bella, I wouldn’t want to have a relapse.”

Bella didn’t argue the point, as she hoped that Dr. Jordan would be able to influence Issie to participate in some moderate exercise. Especially since his initial theory—that Issie had grown weak through lack of activity—appeared to have been proven true. Bella knew, too, that the suddenness of Lady Strickland’s death had exacerbated Issie’s fears, so that she was now confusing her body’s natural reaction to exertion after months of inactivity with the symptoms of an impending apoplexy. However, Bella did not feel Issie was in danger of meeting her mother’s fate. The late Lady Strickland had become enraged easily and frequently, and such violent emotions had probably overtaxed her heart. Issie, on the other hand, never flew into rages or threw fits of temper. Although Bella did fear for her cousin’s health if she did not start eating regularly and engaging in physical activity.

Therefore, shortly before the doctor’s arrival, Bella was quite surprised when she had to stop Issie from doing too much .

Issie had frantically knocked on Bella’s door to ask her if she had altered all the gowns that had been purchased for her season.

“Not all of them, no,” Bella replied. “Was there one in particular you wanted to wear?” She was careful to keep her voice and expression neutral, and though she dearly wanted to tease Issie about trying to look her best for the handsome doctor, she restrained herself with great difficulty from doing so.

“I believe there was a sprigged muslin,” Issie said, but she had already gone into Bella’s dressing room and started looking through the gowns herself. “This one!” she pronounced excitedly, pulling it down and showing it to Bella.

“It hasn’t been altered. You should keep it,” Bella said. But Issie had already rushed out of the room with the dress, and Bella was not even sure she’d heard her.

She followed Issie to her room and found her undoing the ties of the simple white morning gown she’d worn at breakfast. “I’m glad you came, Bella. You can help me. I rang for Nancy, but I’m worried the doctor will come before she does,” Issie said, the last part of her sentence nearly inaudible as her voice was muffled by the dress she was pulling over her head.

Bella quickly helped Issie change clothes, as Issie had left it to the very last minute and the doctor could be announced at any time. Apparently, she’d had second thoughts about what she’d been wearing, and Bella felt she was right to choose something other than unrelieved white, which made her appear even more pale and sickly than she was.

Having helped Issie into her dress, Bella tried to lead her back to bed, but Issie resisted Bella’s guiding arm and ran to the vanity to look in the mirror and fuss with her hair. This was when Bella began to fear Issie might be overdoing things. “Issie, please! You’ll exhaust yourself before the doctor arrives. You look very pretty.”

Issie was pulling curls out from under her lace cap while peering anxiously at herself in the mirror. “I’m still rather pale.” Then, looking at her cousin as if they were co-conspirators in a crime, she whispered: “Do you have any… rouge ?”

But before Bella could answer yea or nay (and she did resort to the rouge pot on occasion, though always very faintly and discreetly), there was a knock at the door followed by Nancy’s voice. “The doctor’s here, mislady.” (Nancy had taken to addressing them both with a word that was a garbled combination of “miss” and “milady” and spoken in a lowered tone so that it was even more difficult to decipher. Bella thought this was very clever of her.)

Issie froze in shock, but Bella told her not to worry. Going over to the door, she said in a raised voice: “Don’t bring him up just yet, Nancy.”

She then heard Nancy tell the doctor to wait a moment and the murmur of a masculine reply, and Bella realized Nancy might not be as clever as she thought.

Rolling her eyes, Bella went back to Issie, who had run over to lie on the bed, her back propped against a pillow and her legs stretched out in front of her. Bella helped her tuck her dress neatly around her legs. “Should you cover my feet with the blanket or do you think he will…touch them again?” Issie asked Bella, and turned such a fiery red that she had no need of rouge, after all.

“I’ll cover them,” Bella said, as she could sense Issie was about to have palpitations and wanted to delay them for as long as possible.

She covered Issie with the blanket and arranged a few of her nut-brown curls so that they framed her face. She stood back to survey her handiwork and then smiled at her cousin. “You look lovely,” Bella told her. Issie returned the smile and Bella went to the door to let the doctor in.

He greeted Bella without looking at her, his gaze immediately going to the young lady in the bed. Issie was still faintly smiling and her cheeks were tinged with the remnants of a blush. Her eyes shone from her unaccustomed exertion (or perhaps from nerves) and her sprigged muslin was an excellent choice, as the blue floral motif embroidered on the gauzy white cotton exactly matched her eyes and made them appear even more luminous.

“Why, you are looking exceedingly well!” the doctor exclaimed, returning Issie’s smile. This caused Issie to blush even more, and Bella thought again that it was a good thing they hadn’t painted her cheeks. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Somewhat better,” Issie replied.

“Your palpitations have decreased in frequency?” he asked.

“Yes, though my nerves are still a little…agitated,” she said, staring up into his concerned, attentive gaze and feeling quite agitated at that very moment.

The doctor turned to address Bella. “I think that the supposition we discussed about her weakness being caused by lack of activity is probably correct.” Bella nodded her agreement, but Issie’s smile disappeared and her brow furrowed at this remark. The doctor turned back to Issie. “I have a prescription for you.”

Issie did not look at all excited by this prospect.

“I want you to join your cousin on at least one outing every other day. It could be a simple one, like a trip to the shops or a walk in the park, but you need to increase your physical activity.”

“I went shopping when I first arrived in town and it was extremely deleterious to my health,” Issie said. But perhaps the doctor was accustomed to resistance to his suggestions, because his smile didn’t waver.

“I don’t mean the type of strenuous shopping that you ladies indulge in when you come to town, where you’re fitted for a whole new wardrobe,” he said, his eyes flitting over Issie’s very modish gown, “but just a quick jaunt to buy ribbons, or even just to look in the shop windows. Something to get you out of the bed, and out of the house.”

“I’ve read that the air in London is quite noxious and harmful. You really think it would be good for me to spend more time out of doors in this rank city?” Issie protested.

“It’s true that country air would be more salubrious, but since you are not presently in the country, town air will have to suffice.”

Issie made no verbal response, but it was obvious that she was skeptical of the doctor’s “prescription.” Dr. Jordan exchanged an amused glance with Bella, before trying another tack.

“You are a well-read young lady, Miss Grant. Surely, you wish to explore the place of which Wordsworth wrote:

‘Earth has not any thing to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth, like a garment, wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare.’?”

“Wordsworth held one opinion of London; Johnson held another,” Issie replied, sitting up straighter in bed, before quoting:

“?‘Prepare for death, if here at night you roam

And sign your will before you sup from home.’?”

Bella wanted to chuckle at Issie’s quote but restrained herself, as she did not want to undermine the doctor’s attempts to persuade her cousin that an outing in London would not prove fatal.

“Yet Johnson was later quoted as saying: ‘When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford,’?” the doctor replied.

Issie was silent for a moment, her brow wrinkled in thought. She then said excitedly, “What about William Cowper? He wrote about London:

‘Rank abundance breeds,

In gross and pampered cities, sloth and lust

And wantonness and gluttonous excess.’?”

“Cowper was practically a monk”—Issie’s eyes grew large at such heresy—“but there was some truth in what he said,” Dr. Jordan conceded, and Issie breathed a sigh of relief.

Bella was immensely entertained by this exchange, but wasn’t sure who had emerged victorious, or what it was that they had won. “So, was anything decided by that?” she asked.

“I’ve decided it’s a great pity that such an intelligent young woman hides herself away, when she’d be an asset to any gathering,” Dr. Jordan replied.

Issie looked down in embarrassment, her expression conflicted. She was obviously flattered by his description of her, but just as obviously had no desire to leave the safety of her bedchamber.

“Perhaps if you were to accompany her on her first outing, Doctor,” Bella suggested innocently. “Just as a precaution, of course, in case she suffered a relapse.”

“I am very busy…” he said, but seeing the disappointment Issie could not fully conceal, he continued, “but I think I could carve out some time, if Miss Grant were to agree to it.”

“She agrees,” Bella said quickly. “Perhaps we could take a trip to Ackermann’s. I must confess I’ve been desirous of making a visit there myself.”

Issie’s eyes lit up at the choice of destination, and she was silent while Bella and the doctor settled upon an afternoon a week later. Obviously, Issie could not go unchaperoned, so Bella would accompany them. Though she resolved to leave them poring over the books while she perused the most recent caricatures and art prints .

In anticipation of this outing, Bella was able to talk Issie into going up and down the stairs multiple times in the days that followed, and was relieved that, rather than killing her as Issie had felt it might, the exercise had given her a slight glow. Or perhaps thoughts of Dr. Jordan were causing that. Either way, Bella felt the good doctor had more than earned his fee, and she was looking forward to observing him and Issie together on their upcoming excursion.