Chapter 42

42

They were permitted to be alone now – there was an irony in this that they both must be aware of. Leo drew his betrothed aside after dinner, and everyone pretended not to notice. He took her into the empty breakfast room and said, ‘I must tell you something that has occurred to me. I was afraid my mother would wonder why we are so anxious to marry quickly; to allay her suspicions I found myself spinning her some tale, but as I uttered the words I realised that they were true. As soon as we are wed, we must go to Yorkshire, to tell your parents in person. Do you not think I am right?'

As she looked at him he could see that his words had struck home. ‘Why… yes. Of course you are. I have been in such a daze… I knew I should write to them, but I did not know where to begin and so have not yet done so. They would think my letter so extraordinary, coming as such a surprise, and perhaps even be hurt by it, believing that I have been concealing things from them, as of course I have. It must be much better to go in person so that we can speak properly and any misunderstandings may be smoothed out, as they could not be by letter. My mother will cry, and I will apologise, and after a while, we may be comfortable again. And I must always have returned home by Christmas; they will expect me, as I have not told them otherwise. It will take days, you know, though, to get to Harrogate.'

‘I do know, and that is why we must be married before we go. I am only sorry that you will find the journey extremely tiring at this season – I hope it may not do your health any lasting damage. We must make sure it does not. We will take it in easy stages, of course, so that you may rest as much as possible.'

Isabella blushed at this oblique reference to her condition but did not attempt to deny that the journey would not be an easy one. So that at least was agreed. They fell next to discussing what needed to be done before the ceremony – the rector of the local church must be approached and warned of what would soon be required of him, and Leo would have to go into Southampton or perhaps Portsmouth to acquire a ring; his servants would have to be told, too. They could not assume that Hal would return tomorrow, though he might, and so as things stood the wedding could not be any earlier than three days from now, and they must decide whether they would leave for Yorkshire directly once the ceremony was over, or spend a day or two at the Manor first. ‘I think we should make an early start the next day,' Leo said. ‘That way we can reach London that night, and put up at an hotel. The longer we delay at this season of the year, the worse the weather is likely to be.' And the longer we delay, the harder it will be for me to leave you , he thought but did not say.

‘You're right,' Isabella agreed. ‘And perhaps I can write a brief note to my parents, saying that I am coming home – Lord Irlam will frank it, I am sure, and it will go by the Mail and reach them before we do. That way my arrival will not be a complete surprise to them.'

‘Are you worried that they will disapprove?' he asked abruptly. This was an added complication to go along with all the rest.

‘No,' she said. ‘No, I am sure they won't. But the more I reflect on it, the more I realise that they will be distressed and confused that I have told them nothing, not even referred to you in my letters, and so I confess that I am a little nervous at the prospect of telling them and seeing their immediate reaction. But I am sure it will all be resolved quickly enough when we are able to talk to them.'

Leo could indeed understand why Isabella's parents might feel all the emotions she had described and more. He was experiencing many of them himself. He realised – of course he did – why Lady Ashby, excessively anxious to conceal the existence of her list and everything to do with it, would with elaborate caution not so much have mentioned in her missives home the name of a certain captain who happened also to be a guest at Castle Irlam. In his experience of mothers, one did not, once one had reached the age of common sense, casually drop the name of an eligible member of the opposite sex into conversation without expecting to be taken up on it sharply and immediately. He would be willing to wager that Isabella had described, at least briefly, her other fellow guests, including Bastian, Matthew, and even poor Tom Wainfleet. There was such a thing as safety in numbers, and distraction. If her mother had responded with seemingly casual questions as to the appearance, disposition, age, income, family and situation of any or all of these young men, as she would have done if she was any sort of parent worthy of the name, Isabella could reply in a natural manner that made it perfectly clear that, just as she was not the slightest bit interested in any of them, they were not the least interested in her. Mentioning him , though, would have required a response at once less truthful and less easy to craft. He could see that quite clearly. That didn't mean it hurt any the less, apparently.

A charged little silence fell – they seemed to be a feature of this very long day. He said, ‘I am sure you must be tired, and it will be a busy time ahead. Do you not think you should rest?'

‘I believe I will,' she said. ‘I certainly don't want to go back to sit with Lady Irlam and the others, and be an object of curiosity, even if it is well-meant.'

He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, give her comfort, though he did not, that being closed off to him and likely only to make things worse for both of them. He loved her, and that meant he could see past his own hurt to feel hers. Even if she had loved him, which she did not, even if she were in this moment the happiest woman in England, which she was not, this time must be difficult for her; must throw up memories that made her uncomfortable, more than uncomfortable. The fact that she had been betrothed before, married before, and had lost her love in tragic circumstances, far too soon, must always be present in her mind. He took her hand, and pressed it, the only contact he would allow himself, saying, ‘You will not have so very long to endure their unwanted attention. Just a few days, and then we will be gone.'

She said resolutely, surprising him, ‘Yes. And after you have taken me to Harrogate, I assume you intend to leave me there, and come away. I cannot think you would be comfortable staying with me for long, or bringing me back to your home. Not after all you have said.'

She was still braver than he was. ‘I am sorry, Isabella. I can see no other course of action open to me.'

‘Naturally you cannot,' she said, and left him. He stood looking after her for a moment, then shook himself, and returned reluctantly to the company, to make Lady Ashby's excuses for going up to bed without saying goodnight.