Chapter 6

6

Issie had overtaxed her strength, and Bella was sorry she and the doctor had given in to her pleadings to visit the Royal Academy. The descent down the staircase had been harrowing for all of them. Until, that is, Dr. Jordan had come to Issie’s rescue in a manner that would have been worthy of the hero of a romantic novel. They had made it little more than halfway and had paused at a landing as Issie was practically collapsing from fatigue, when the doctor suddenly picked her up and carried her the rest of the way down the spiral staircase.

Bella thought that there was no feat he could have performed that would have been more effective in awakening passionate adoration in a young woman’s heart. Even Bella, who admired an entirely different gentleman, thought that if Issie wasn’t already halfway in love with the doctor, she would have been tempted to fall in love with him herself. Issie, who was exhausted, overstimulated, and dizzy from her descent down the circular stairs, stared at Dr. Jordan in dazed wonder on the carriage ride home, so that Bella, afraid Issie would embarrass both herself and the object of her adoration, finally suggested she sit back and close her eyes.

When they arrived at the townhouse, Dr. Jordan was prepared to carry Issie up the stairs, but the rest period in the carriage had revived her and she was able to make it to her bedchamber on her own two feet, though she leaned heavily on Dr. Jordan along the way. After she had been helped into bed he resumed his professional manner. “You should stay in bed tomorrow, Miss Grant,” he said. “It is imperative that you rest.” He then turned to address Bella. “Once she’s recovered from today’s exertions, have her walk the stairs again, twice per day. I will check back in a week.” He then took his leave of them, but stopped in the doorway to address Issie once more. “Oh, and you should consume a beefsteak at least three times a week. You scarcely weigh a thing.”

Before Issie could respond, Dr. Jordan was gone and the two cousins were left staring at each other in silence. “Bella,” Issie said, in a hushed tone, as if she were in a dream and didn’t want to talk too loud for fear of waking herself, “have you ever seen anything to match that?”

“Never,” Bella replied softly but emphatically. “It was the most impressive thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

“So then, it would be completely reasonable if I exerted all the strength I possess in trying to attach such a man.”

“Completely reasonable. I will do everything in my power to assist you in such an endeavor. In fact, if you do not marry him, I might be forced to, just so such a specimen doesn’t leave the family.”

“You can’t have him, Bella,” Issie said, and Bella was sorry she’d joked about such a thing when she saw the anxious expression Issie now wore. She had no desire to undermine her cousin’s already fragile self-confidence.

“I was teasing, love. He’s all yours. That is very obvious.”

“Maybe it is to you and to me, but I don’t think it’s obvious to him,” Issie said.

“Perhaps not yet. But if you are diligent in following his prescription, he cannot help but be pleased with you. And didn’t Shakespeare say: ‘Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps’?”

Issie’s eyes widened and she reached out to grab her cousin’s hand. “Bella, did you just quote Shakespeare ?”

“I don’t know, did I?” Bella asked, not sure if she’d gotten the quotation, or the author, correct.

“Yes, you did. Much Ado About Nothing, Act 3.” Issie smiled fondly at her cousin, her eyes a little watery. “This has been the best day of my entire life.”

And Bella, thinking back to the incredible sights they’d seen, the time she’d spent with Lord Brooke in the gallery, and the joy she’d witnessed on her beloved cousin’s face, felt it had been a rather wonderful day, as well.

Unfortunately for the cousins, Lady Dutton, who had benignly ignored them for the first few weeks of their visit, decided to stick an oar in.

While she and Bella were awaiting the day’s callers, she told Bella that her cousin, the “poor relation,” should do something to make herself useful. “If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t even think she existed. I don’t think I’ve seen her once since the day you both arrived in town.”

Bella figured she should not contradict Lady Dutton by explaining she’d actually seen both of them many times, but that she couldn’t tell Issie and Bella apart from each other. And Bella was definitely not going to tell her she was speaking to the “poor relation” at that very moment. “Her health is not good. As a matter of fact, I had to call for a doctor.”

Lady Dutton harrumphed. “Blood always tells. There’s a weakness there. Comes from the maternal line.” Bella realized that Lady Dutton was referring to her mother, who was the daughter of an apothecary, since she believed that poor, lowly Arabella Grant was the sickly cousin. But Bella thought it was quite funny that the actual “Lady Isabelle” (who was, of course, the sickly one) was related to Lady Dutton through the maternal line. Bella and Isabelle were connected through their fathers, who were brothers, and so Bella was no blood relation of Lady Strickland or Lady Dutton, something for which she was extremely grateful. Especially when she heard Lady Dutton’s next speech, which Lady Dutton thought she was directing to Isabelle. “Your mother was horrified Lord Strickland’s brother married so far beneath him. I told her once that at least the child was legitimate, and she pointed out that was hardly a good thing, as if she hadn’t been she could have been sent to the workhouse.”

Bella had a very difficult time keeping her composure after this admission, as she was the child Lady Dutton had casually mentioned might have been sent to the workhouse which, for a three-year-old, was practically a death sentence. She had no doubt Lady Strickland would have sent her there regardless of her legitimacy, if Lord Strickland hadn’t prevented her from doing that to his brother’s child. But Lady Dutton hadn’t finished with her tirade. “She has no business being sickly, anyway. Look at me, I’m nearly fifty”—she was at least sixty-five—“and don’t coddle myself a bit. And that’s my point: I shouldn’t have to escort you all over town. She’s too young to chaperone you to balls and the like, but it seems to me she can make herself useful and accompany you during the day.”

“She has been doing so, as her health permits,” Bella said, glad she had at least one example to support this statement. “We went to Somerset House yesterday to view the paintings of the Royal Academy, and we’re going to Ackermann’s tomorrow.”

“Did Lord Brooke accompany you to Somerset House?”

“He did not escort us, but we met him there,” Bella said, as she was aware Lady Dutton favored Lord Brooke’s suit and would be horrified if she knew “Lady Isabelle” was limiting the time she spent in his company. And Bella, now that she’d become more familiar with London society, had come to realize what a prime catch Lord Brooke was. Of course Lady Dutton would be overjoyed to see him wooing the young lady she thought was her niece; every lady in town was desperate to capture his notice. However, he rarely paid court to eligible young women, which made his attentions to “Lady Isabelle” particularly noteworthy.

“It’s too bad your mother didn’t live to see this day, but it’s gratifying that her plans for you are on their way to being achieved and that Lord Brooke is paying you serious attention. Just don’t do anything to scare him away. I hope you’ve given up those bluestocking tendencies you used to have,” she said, eyeing Bella suspiciously.

“Of course, Aunt. I hardly even open a book, these days.”

“Wonderful,” Lady Dutton replied.

Bella should have realized Lady Dutton was too experienced a campaigner to leave things to chance. When Lord Brooke called that day and asked “Lady Isabelle” to go riding with him on the next, the older woman intervened when Bella informed him she already had plans.

“Nonsense. It’s merely an outing with her cousin,” Lady Dutton said, and Bella jumped at the sound of her voice, as she hadn’t realized Lady Dutton had been eavesdropping on their conversation. “They’re going to some bookshop or another. You can escort them.”

“Aunt, I’m sure Lord Brooke has better things to do—”

“Which shop? Hatchards?” he asked.

“Ackermann’s,” Bella told him, while trying to think of a way she could politely get out of it. She wished now that she had agreed to go riding with him. At least Issie wouldn’t be present on such an excursion.

“I would be pleased to escort you and your cousin. It will finally give me an opportunity to make her acquaintance,” Lord Brooke said, a genuine smile on his face. Bella could only muster up a fake one in response.

After the callers had left, she told Issie that she could not take her to Ackermann’s the next day. “Bella, you promised!” Issie said, and Bella found it incredible how much her cousin had changed in these last few weeks. When they’d first arrived in town, she’d refused to accompany Bella anywhere, and now she was complaining that she had to stay at home. However, Issie had found her first and only London excursion so exhilarating that she was eager to repeat the experience. And since it was such a short, easy outing, Bella had initially encouraged her cousin to come with her.

“Lady Dutton insisted that Lord Brooke escort us, and I’m worried if you spend an entire afternoon with him in such close quarters he might figure out that you are Lady Isabelle. Though I’m probably being overly cautious. After all, it has been more than five years since he last met you.”

“No, I probably shouldn’t go,” Issie said, her expression resigned. “That man is so exasperating.”

“Issie,” Bella protested, “it’s hardly his fault that we are pulling an elaborate hoax on all of London society.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, Bella. You make it sound unscrupulous, when in actuality it has had a number of quite positive effects, and may have literally saved my life.”

“That’s true at least. I can see that it’s been extremely beneficial for your health.”

“And don’t forget how enjoyable it’s been for you.”

“I’m in no danger of forgetting that, ” Bella said sarcastically, as “enjoyable” was definitely not the word she would have used to describe her experience masquerading as her cousin. When she reflected on why it was not as enjoyable as it should have been, Bella began to feel slightly resentful that Issie could pursue her romance when she could not.

“I thought you didn’t want to marry,” Bella said a little irritably, startling Issie, who had begun reading when Bella had become preoccupied with her own thoughts.

“Well, I suppose I didn’t, at first, but when he picked me up and carried me down the stairs …” Issie didn’t finish her sentence, but sunk into her own reverie which, from the enraptured expression on her face, was a reliving of that moment at Somerset House.

“You changed your mind,” Bella prompted her.

“What?” Issie asked, blinking. “Oh, yes. I changed my mind.”

“And how do you propose to tell him who you really are? You don’t think it will cause any problems when he finds out you’ve lied to him about your identity? That perhaps he will be upset with you when he discovers the truth?”

“Upset? When he finds out that I’m really Lady Isabelle and the possessor of a huge fortune? Hardly,” Issie said, with a less-than-ladylike snort of derision. “I don’t know how much money he has, of course, but I do not think he would have taken up a profession if he were wealthy, do you?”

“No,” said Bella, discouraged to think Issie was most likely correct, and that Dr. Jordan would not be at all upset to discover her real identity. Unfortunately for Bella, the opposite was not true. It was perfectly fine from society’s viewpoint to pretend to be someone of lesser wealth and prominence, but woe to the one who pretended the opposite.

“Besides, I mean to make him fall in love with me before I reveal the truth, and if he loves me, then he cannot possibly be upset with me,” Issie said, and while Bella suspected love didn’t necessarily work that way, she did wonder if Issie might not be onto something.

What if, instead of avoiding Lord Brooke, Bella accepted his invitations and spent as much time as possible with him? Then, if he chose to court her and their relationship did progress to the point where he desired to marry her, it would be a perfect test of his feelings when she revealed her true identity. Surely, if a man really and truly loved a woman, as Issie had pointed out, the prospect of never seeing her again would be entirely too painful, and he would be much more inclined to forgive her a small deception. Especially if she explained to him her very unselfish reasons for embarking on such a scheme in the first place.

The more time she spent in Lord Brooke’s company, the more she realized he was nothing like Lady Strickland. He never made her feel inferior or demeaned her, but on the contrary, he always made her feel better about herself. And, while she’d have preferred to marry a man of lesser rank, she realized Lord Brooke wasn’t to blame for his noble birth any more than she was for her lowly origins. She resolved, therefore, to attempt to win Lord Brooke’s love, as Issie was doing with her doctor. If Issie could overcome her shyness and fight to win the man she wanted, surely Bella could do the same. Bella found her spirits lifting at the thought that she needn’t suppress her desire to spend time with Lord Brooke, but could indulge herself as much as she wanted.

Issie, who had been a little disconcerted to find her usually even-tempered cousin in such an uncertain mood, was even more confused when Bella’s frown cleared and she suddenly grabbed Issie’s hands and began waltzing her around the room.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Issie opened it to find Nancy there, holding a pile of linens.

“Beg pardon, mi—” she coughed as she addressed Issie so that whatever she’d said was unintelligible, “but Lady Dutton asked me to give you this mending to do.”

Nancy held the pile out to Issie and she automatically took it, though she staggered a little under its weight. Bella rushed over to help Issie and Nancy quickly left, probably because she was afraid they’d try to hand the linens back to her.

“Aunt Lucretia is ridiculous!” Issie said furiously. “How dare she invite me to spend the season with her and then give me a bunch of old sheets to mend!”

“In her defense, she thinks she’s giving them to me,” Bella said dryly.

“That’s not any better! She’s as bad as my mother, treating you like a servant without even paying you a wage!”

“Your mother was worse; she made me pay her, ” Bella said, as she thought about how Lady Strickland appropriated her inheritance all of those years she’d lived with them.

“Bella, I hate to ask…” Issie said, looking at Bella with a pleading expression.

Bella sighed, as she realized what Issie was hinting at. But she also knew that Issie was a terrible seamstress, whereas she was very talented at needlework. And Bella didn’t feel sewing was a very healthy pastime for Issie, anyway. She wanted her cousin spending her time out of doors, taking the air and getting exercise, not hunched over a bunch of fraying linens, repetitively wielding a needle back and forth. “I’ll do it, Issie. I’m much faster than you.”

“And you sew more even seams,” Issie said, breathing a sigh of relief. “But don’t do it too quickly, Bella, or she’ll just find more for you to do.”

Bella agreed to take her time over the task and went back to her chamber to do a little mending before she went out to “enjoy” her imposture as the Lady Isabelle.

Catherine had been happy to be invited on the Ackermann’s excursion in Issie’s place, though Lord Brooke looked very confused when he arrived to escort them. “Miss…Adams, is it not?” he said as he helped her into the coach. He had met Catherine a few times already that season and so was able to recall her name. He would never have become acquainted with her at all if the choice had been left to him, as he did not make a habit of consorting with social-climbing eighteen-year-olds, but he could not avoid meeting Miss Adams when she so persistently attached herself to Lady Belle’s side.

Once they were all seated inside, Bella explained things to him. “My cousin feared having a relapse and so wasn’t able to come, and since Miss Adams has been wanting to visit Ackermann’s, I invited her instead.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I had been wanting to visit, exactly, but Mrs. Mullins told me it would do me a world of good, especially when I told her you were going, Lord Brooke,” Miss Adams said in her frank way, and Bella spared a sympathetic thought for Mrs. Mullins, who obviously had a more difficult task than Bella had at first realized. While Bella strongly believed a person should be truthful and was not happy about the fabrications she’d been guilty of since coming to town, there was something to be said for not blurting out all the truth, on every occasion, as Catherine Adams was prone to do.

Bella was very pleased with her first sight of Ackermann’s, as it was a handsome shop with enormous windows at the front and a clerestory at roof level that admitted even more light into the sumptuously decorated rooms. And upon entering she was overwhelmed at the choices available to her. There were watercolors and rice paper, prints and framed art, illustrated books, writing desks and tea chests, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Bella wasn’t an admirer of Rowlandson, one of the artists Ackermann worked closely with; she found his caricatures ugly and vulgar and not at all funny, and she couldn’t understand how or why there was a market for his work. But she did like the book Microcosm of London, which he had illustrated in collaboration with another artist, and enjoyed looking through it with Catherine. It felt to Bella as if she’d been able to take a tour of the entire city without having to travel anywhere. (And the book also included pictures of places ladies wouldn’t have been allowed to visit anyway, like Brooks’s gentlemen’s club.) Bella thought about buying the book for Issie but then she saw an art book, Six Progressive Lessons for Flower Painting, and figured she could afford it and a box of watercolor cakes, which Issie might enjoy more.

She excitedly showed her purchases to Lord Brooke, who diligently admired them. “Do you paint?” he asked.

“No, unfortunately I’m a terrible artist. But my cousin is quite talented. These are for her.”

“It’s kind of you to buy her a gift, since she was unable to accompany us.”

“Perhaps she can join us on another occasion,” Bella said.

“I hope so, since I still have not had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. Though I do feel like I already know her, to some extent.”

Bella’s head shot up at this statement, and she fearfully asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

Lord Brooke looked surprised by her reaction. “Merely that you talk about her all the time, so much so that I’ve come to know a little about her habits and character. I didn’t mean that I’d been secretively spying on her, so there’s no reason for you to look at me so suspiciously,” he said in a jocular tone, and Bella smiled in response.

Just then two women walked by and there were whispers of “Lady Belle” interspersed with giggling. Bella looked over at them, but didn’t recognize either of the ladies, and she and Lord Brooke exchanged a glance. “Evidently, your popularity continues to grow,” he said.

“I would be far happier if it did not. I do not understand what they find so amusing about me,” Bella replied, bewildered. They had already greeted a number of people they both were acquainted with, as Lord Brooke was just as popular as Bella if not more so, but Bella had been surprised by the reaction she was receiving this afternoon. While people had spoken in a friendly fashion to Lord Brooke, they had practically smirked at Bella, and while none had laughed in her face, it seemed to Bella as if they’d wanted to. And while she was accustomed to being stared at and whispered about since becoming “Lady Belle,” this reaction felt very different.

She hoped that her real identity hadn’t been discovered, and that she was not about to be cast ignominiously from society.

Just then, Catherine, who had been perusing the latest caricatures, ran up to her side, breathless and big-eyed.

“Lady Belle, Lord Brooke, you must come immediately.”

They obediently followed her to one of the walls of the shop, and she pointed to a caricature hanging just above eye level.

Bella was shocked to see a replica of her own face staring back at her, with probably the same look of horror she was currently wearing.

It was a sketch of the scene from a few nights ago, at the ball where Mr. Peckham had lost his button in the middle of their dance. Bella, looking aghast at the situation she found herself in, was depicted standing across from Mr. Peckham’s bent-over figure as he stooped to pick up his button. The artist, whoever he was, had drawn it from a vantage point behind Mr. Peckham, so that the first thing a viewer saw was his posterior, which had been enlarged and exaggerated, his tight breeches stretched across two ludicrously rounded orbs. Underneath the illustration appeared the caption:

“The Belle and the Butt on.”

Bella, who usually did not appreciate such mean-spirited, vulgar, satirical prints, could not hold back a burst of laughter when she read the pun, and put a hand over her mouth a second too late.

Lord Brooke, who had been looking back and forth from the print to her face, appeared relieved at her reaction, and permitted himself a half smile.

Catherine was horrified. “Lady Belle! It is not funny! Indeed, it is not! This is all Mr. Peckham’s fault. He should be held accountable.” She turned suddenly to Lord Brooke. “Lord Brooke, perhaps you—” she began, and Bella quickly interrupted her, worried that the romantic young woman was going to suggest the men fight a duel over the silly incident.

“Catherine, you refine too much upon this,” Bella said, as soothingly as she could, as she was still trying to suppress her giggles. “This mean-spirited caricature is not the fault of Mr. Peckham. On the contrary, it was very rude of the artist to publish such an image of him.” Bella’s voice shook as she said this, as she was still struggling to keep from laughing, and her eyes had begun watering from her efforts to restrain her laughter. However, this made it appear to Catherine as if Bella were crying, and she suddenly grasped Bella to her bosom, hugging her tightly and rocking her.

“There, there, Lady Belle. How like you to expend your sympathy on someone who isn’t worthy of it. You’re too tenderhearted. He doesn’t deserve your pity,” Catherine said, and since she was built on more generous proportions than Bella—and Bella had already been holding her breath to avoid dissolving into giggles—Bella suddenly felt she was in serious danger of suffocation with her face pressed so tightly against Catherine’s chest.

Thankfully, Lord Brooke intervened before Bella could make an even greater spectacle by swooning in a printshop in front of a caricature of herself. “Miss Adams, your loyalty toward Lady Belle does you great credit, but I think you can release her. We wouldn’t want to cause even more of a scene.”

Bella, after she’d had a chance to blink the moisture from her eyes and catch her breath, was alarmed to see he had reason for telling Catherine what he did. Every person in Ackermann’s appeared to be watching them. However, when Bella looked at her audience, they all immediately turned their heads, chatting with great animation to the person standing next to them.

And while Lord Brooke did not volunteer to fight a duel in her honor, he redeemed himself in Catherine’s eyes when he left Ackermann’s the possessor of every copy of the scurrilous caricature.

After they dropped Catherine off at her home, Bella thanked him for what he had done. “It was very kind of you to try to protect my reputation in such a manner by purchasing those ridiculous prints, but I think this might be a case of shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. Too many people have already seen it,” she told him.

“I know. But it was a very small thing to do and it relieved some of my anger at the situation. I agree with your Miss Adams, you know. It was not the act of a gentleman for Peckham to expose you to ridicule as he did. But I think that he’s been punished more than enough,” he said, glancing at the stack of papers on the seat next to him.

“I agree. And at least the artist did not draw me in an unflattering manner, as he did poor Mr. Peckham.” She reached out and took a paper from the stack, to look more closely at the depiction of her, which she had only glanced at earlier. Lord Brooke switched seats, ostensibly so they could look at the caricature together, though as soon as he sat next to her, Bella could not even comprehend what she was looking at, so disturbed was she by his nearness.

His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward and traced her sketched image with one finger. “It’s not unflattering, but neither does it do you justice,” he murmured, and Bella, for the second time that afternoon, felt she was in danger of suffocation. She reminded herself to breathe, even though the finger that had been tracing the picture suddenly reached up and tilted her face toward his, as if to compare her actual face with the drawing, and his eyes, which glinted in the dimly lit coach, began scanning her features as gently as his finger had traced her printed image.

“No, the original is far, far superior,” he said, and she could feel a whisper of air as he finished the sentence, and her lips quivered from the faint breeze that brushed over them. Or perhaps they trembled because his lips were still removed from her own by an inch or two, and she desired him to come even nearer. However, he made no move to close the distance, and Bella finally, after what seemed like an interminable wait but was probably mere seconds, moved her own face forward. This appeared to be the permission he was waiting for, and he gently and tenderly touched her lips with his own.

Much too soon he drew away to look down into her face, smiling at her just as tenderly as he’d kissed her. “Bella,” he whispered.

She returned his smile but was surprised when he suddenly moved back to the opposite bench, causing Bella to frown in confusion and feel forlorn and abandoned. But then she realized the coach had stopped without her even being aware of it and the door was beginning to open.

“I should have instructed the coachman to take a longer route after we dropped off Miss Adams,” he said softly, blinking in the sudden light from the opening of the door. And though she was still greatly disappointed at the interruption of her first kiss, she was pleased to see that Lord Brooke—who she very much doubted was as inexperienced as she was—looked as stunned and dazed as she felt.

He stepped out of the carriage and turned to help her, but instead of offering his hand he lifted her down by the waist, holding her there for a moment after her feet touched the ground. He released her with obvious reluctance, and she was just as reluctant for him to let her go, but she smiled tremulously at him before turning toward the Duttons’ townhouse.

She didn’t realize she was still holding a copy of the caricature until he reached for it. “Give that to me; I’ll burn the lot of them as soon as I return home,” he told her.

She held it beyond his reach. “No, I’d like to keep one,” she said.

“Perhaps I will as well. Though I’ll cut that idiot out of it.”

“That should relieve your feelings and do far less damage than cutting his heart out in a duel,” Bella said, laughing.

“Don’t worry, he’s safe from me. The person he should truly fear is Miss Adams,” Lord Brooke said with a grin.