Chapter 5

Bella stepped out of the carriage onto the polished boardwalk outside her parent's towering London mansion and paused for a moment to catch her breath. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and if she wasn't careful the emotion of the moment would show on her face.

Aunt Nellie had taught her how to control her feelings, and she slipped behind the mask of polite disinterest she had learned to fashion for occasions such as this.

The world around her seemed dizzying, full of sights and smells that triggered memories better left buried. There… on the marble staircase… that was the last time she had seen James. His face was fading from her memory, but the feeling of safety and affection she held for him was still so strong she could taste it. And there… by the door… that was where Simon had been waiting with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Are you going to stand here all day taking it in?" Aunt Nellie asked, not unkindly. "Or should we brave the stairs together?"

"Of course," Bella said, swallowing hard and taking her aunt's arm. "Let us go in."

She'd spent far too much time worrying over her travelling garments. She knew that she would be facing her parents and had dressed as though preparing for battle, paying attention to every detail lest it reveal a weakness they could exploit.

She wore a lavender and grey gown with a small jacket buttoned up to her neck and dove-colored gloves that buttoned at the wrist. Her delicate black boots were laced up her ankle, and she had her hair neatly combed and hidden beneath a straw and lavender bonnet tied beneath her chin. Every hair must be in place. Every expression carefully curated.

The butler admitted them coolly, nodding at Bella as though she was a new acquaintance rather than the girl who had tumbled around the house as a child. He showed them to the drawing room, where both Bella and Aunt Nellie waited in silence for nearly ten minutes before the arrival of her parents, who swept into the room like a king and queen preparing to entertain their subjects.

Bella stood to greet them both, her gloved hands poised at her side as she sank into a curtsy.

"Isabella, dear," Lady Collingwood spoke first. "I'm so pleased to see you've made it safely home at last. How we've missed you."

"I trust your journey was safe," Lord Collingwood added, nodding to his sister in greeting.

They stopped just short of embracing Bella, instead sinking into the settee opposite her and Aunt Nellie, and gesturing for both of them to resume their place in adjoining chairs. Bella sat stiffly, trying to avoid staring at her parents.

How is it possible that they have changed so little? There was, perhaps, a few more grey hairs around her father's temples, and her mother's placid face sported some lines around the eyes and mouth, but beyond that Bella could hardly see that time had passed since she sat here five years earlier and received her marching orders.

James' death did not seem to have changed them in any significant way. Even the cool manner with which they engaged her in conversation was such that an outsider would have guessed she'd only been gone on a short holiday, rather than five years of exile in Ireland.

"Our journey was pleasant," Aunt Nellie said, jumping in where Bella was conspicuously quiet. "We had good winds, and the ship sailed steadily."

"How pleasant to hear," Lady Collingwood said stiffly. She locked eyes on Bella. "And you, Isabella? How are you finding London?"

"Unchanged," Bella said, fighting to keep her voice cool and indifferent. "Although it is warmer than I would have guessed. I imagine you have been taking many fine walks in this pleasant environ."

A whisper of a smile tugged at Lady Collingwood's lips, and she shot a glance in Aunt Nellie's direction as though to congratulate the older woman. "My dear, London may be unchanged, but you are not." She looked self-satisfied. "I daresay our decision to send you away was the right one. You have returned to us a fine young lady indeed."

"And you will be pleased to know," Lord Collingwood added, looking a little bored, "that the reports of your youthful escapades have all but faded from the memory of the ton. I think you shall find that your induction into society will not suffer from gossip of any sort."

Bella nodded her head in acknowledgement, but could not bring herself to force a smile. "I am grateful."

"You have arrived earlier than planned," Lady Collingwood said crisply, already shifting from formal introductions. "But I suppose that is good news. Lady Ellory is hosting a ball tomorrow evening, and it will be a good place for you to reappear in the London scene at last. It is a masquerade, which should allow you time to make connections without the pressure of introduction."

Bella felt the whiplash from her mother's statement. She was still processing her return, and the cold reception she'd received from her parents, and they were already discussing the details of her official presentation to the ton.

"Whatever you wish, Mother," she said quietly.

"There are a few names in particular you should watch for tomorrow evening," Lord Collingwood interjected. "I'll write them down and have you read over them before the evening festivities. I know you have been gone too long to know the movers and shakers in London. I wouldn't want you to miss out on any opportunities."

And whose fault is it, that I have been gone as long as five years? Bella bit her tongue. "That should be helpful."

Lady Collingwood's pleasure was less subtle this time as she beamed in Aunt Nellie's direction. "What a lovely young lady you have returned to us, Aunt Nellie. She is the epitome of propriety and grace."

"She is a remarkable girl," Aunt Nellie said, her voice strangely tight. "I cannot take responsibility for all her charms."

"Well, certainly you are responsible for any noticeable ones," Lady Collingwood said with a forced laugh. "For there were none visible when she was last here."

Bella stood, clasping her hands in front of her to keep her frustration from showing. "I'm weary from my travels, Mother, Father. I think I ought to retire and recover before the ball tomorrow night. Please, forgive my absence at the evening meal. My appetite is suffering."

Her parents nodded and, as Bella left, she heard them remarking to Aunt Nellie how very ladylike it was for Bella to take the proper amount of time to recover from a long journey. As though there is something inherently graceful about being weak and exhausted, she thought bitterly.

When she was alone in her room at last, she tore off her gloves, bonnet, and jacket, tossing them on the bed before unpinning her hair and hurrying to the window to crack open the casement. She needed air. She needed escape. Her vision blurred with unexpected tears, but she blinked them back as soon as they came.

There was no time to indulge in feelings of anger or loss. She feared if she addressed the tumult of emotions in her chest, they would all spill out, having been pent up and properly tended for years. They might not be as tame as they seemed, if exposed to freedom at last.

She sniffed and wiped her tears away angrily, looking out over the street below. She wondered, observing a group of young ladies walking arm in arm, if she ought to reach out to Grace and tell her the ship had arrived early. Perhaps Grace would even be at Lady Ellory's ball and would want to speak with her.

Bella almost walked back to her writing table to scrawl the note, but she restrained herself. Today's brief interview with her parents, and the fury it invoked, showed her that she still needed a few days to adjust to life in London before resuming her old acquaintances. At least, at Lady Ellory's, she would have a mask to hide behind. She would send word to Grace after the ball, and after she had her feet firmly underneath her again.

Until then, no one in London need know she had returned.

***

The next evening, Bella dressed with the aid of her lady's maid in a dress of pale filmy pink so light that it almost seemed to be white. The style was simple enough, but cut prettily to reveal her clavicles and the upper part of her arms where long white gloves did not reach. Her hair was pinned back decorously into a press of curls, with only a few escaping to cling to her neck and face. She allowed her maid to nestle a single pink rose in amongst the dark blond waves. Her mask, sent up by Aunt Nellie, was white with rose decoration, covering most of her brow and her eyes, leaving her lips free. It would do nicely to conceal her identity, at least.

She attended the ball with her parents and aunt as chaperone, although only the latter could have been considered truly devoted to the task. Lord and Lady Collingwood, despite being separated from their only daughter for five years, seemed hardly able to summon the necessary small talk required for the carriage ride to Lady Ellory's, then went their separate ways as soon as the family broached the fine lady's front door.

Left at Aunt Nellie's side, Bella was grateful when the older woman gave her elbow a gentle squeeze.

"This is all a bit much for your parents, dear," she said in a low voice. "I'm sure they don't know how to act after having been gone from you for so long."

"I might understand something of that myself," Bella said, unable to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice. "I do not know why I expected anything different."

"My brother was always a withdrawn man," her aunt said, shrugging. "Perhaps he doesn't know how to face his own feelings on the matter of your return."

Bella was not eager to hear more excuses regarding her parents' behavior, nor to spend a moment more than necessary dwelling on the way their abandonment made her feel. She forced a smile as they stepped together into a dazzling ballroom hung with lanterns and full to the brim with dancers in swirling silks.

"I have studied the list Father gave me," she said, hoping to change the subject.

"Good," her aunt said, apparently willing to move on to the matter at hand. "If any of those young men should approach you, encourage them as much as possible. If your father has deemed them appropriate, then he will not stand in the way of a match. The courtship will proceed more smoothly."

And if I don't care for the men in question? The fact that Lord Collingwood had scrawled a list of eligible bachelors on a sheet of paper hardly endeared the gentlemen in question to Bella. If anything, the list made her despise the names without even meeting the men face-to-face. She buried her natural rebellion deep within her and kept a sweet and compliant tone.

"Of course. A smooth courtship would be advantageous for all involved."

She did not have long to wait. Before the next strains of music had begun, she was approached by a tall, slim gentleman in an elaborate green coat trimmed with pale blue lace. It was a garish arrangement suitable for the Continent, but Bella kept those thoughts to herself, submitting to the gentleman's sweaty palms and awkward dancing as she had been taught.

While they turned about the floor, the young man made conversation at a stilted pace.

"What a lovely evening this is," he fawned, raising a hand to turn Bella as the dance commanded and then stepping back into a few rocking steps. "Lady Ellory has outdone herself again."

"The scene is indeed magical," Bella murmured in response.

"I spend my entire time at masquerades trying to determine who is behind the mask of the person I am with," the young man went on, grinning so widely his mouth seemed to gape from beneath his lion-shaped mask. "And I daresay I am rather good at guessing. I've already found out two young ladies this evening."

"And do you ever attempt to decipher the identity of gentlemen as well?" Bella asked.

He ignored her, going on as though her contribution to the conversation was of no more necessity than that of their other dance partners spinning silently about on either side.

"But I will say I'm stumped when it comes to you. I asked after you when you first came in, but no one recognized you or saw the carriage in which you arrived," he said, the grin still comically large. "Won't you give me a hint?"

"That would be rather unsporting," she said, trying to keep a light tone.

"I did think," he went on, his words tumbling over hers even as she was answering him, "that you might be the niece of Mr. Grant, who was so recently to have arrived in London from the north country. You are rumored to be a great beauty, and an heiress as well."

"Well, you know what they say about rumors—"

"Or perhaps you are someone more well-known to me," he prattled on. "Perhaps I shall feel an utter fool when you remove your mask at last and reveal yourself. Is that you, Lady Caroline?"

She smiled in what she hoped was a coquettish fashion, and kept her lips tightly shut. As he does not seem to require me for this conversation, I shall keep any further thoughts to myself, she thought.

To her great amusement, and slight weariness, she was utterly right in her diagnosis of the situation. Her dandy of a partner seemed content to spend the rest of the dance talking about women whose identity he had properly guessed and to take periodic stabs at her own name and background, without any further input from Bella. She had only to dance elegantly, smile on occasion, and remain silent.

When he led her from the floor at last at the close of the dance, the young man bowed deeply, declared the whole dance a pleasure, and left her in search of other prey without learning her name.

After this first unfortunate beginning, three other gentlemen followed. None was so ridiculous as her first partner, although all made conversation as dull and pedantic as could be expected of London high society. When at last there was a break in the dancing to take refreshment Bella was grateful to slip away with a small glass of punch and sip in the shadow of an alcove without interruption.

Aunt Nellie appeared at her side, looking proud. "You're dancing beautifully, Isabella. I have already overheard several people remarking on your grace and elegance and wondering as to your identity. Ordinarily I would be quick to introduce you, but as it is I believe the masquerade improves the intrigue of your position."

"Thank you, Aunt," Bella said. She felt as though she was getting the beginnings of a headache.

"Have you met any of your father's recommended suitors?"

"Not yet, but I have only danced with a handful of gentlemen." She looked around the room, searching for the deep plum of her mother's gown. "Where are Mother and Father, after all?"

"I believe your father has retired to the gaming room with the other gentlemen, but your mother is yonder," Aunt Nellie said, pointing out Lady Collingwood at the far end of the room, enthroned on a plush settee while a few older women chattered gossip in her ear. "She told me you are doing well, Isabella, just as I have said. I believe you are making your parents proud."

Bella bit her lip to keep from saying something unkind. The longer she was there, going through the motions of being a proper lady, the more she wanted to kick against the traces that bound her. She thought suddenly, wildly, of the tree she had climbed in Hyde Park all those years before. She thought of how free she had felt up in the highest limbs, with the world below her and out of reach.

"I'm glad they are satisfied with my performance," she said, turning to go before she said something she would regret.