Page 37 of What the Lady Wants
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 aftera 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. Mentioninghim, 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.
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Lord Irlam arrived home late the following evening, and although he did not emerge from his bedchamber until noon on the day after, he sent the licence he had obtained at such trouble to himself to his cousin immediately upon his arrival.
Isabella knew nothing of this – the first she heard of her host’s return and his success in laying hands on the necessary licence was late the following morning, when the Captain found her alone, pacing slowly along the Castle’s gallery of paintings, looking at them but not seeing them. She had not suddenly developed a passionate interest in art or in Lord Irlam’s ancestors, handsome though most of them were; she was avoiding her fellow guests, and Cassandra in particular. She knew eventually that she would have to have a conversation with her hostess about her trickery, but she was unable to face it just now. There was simply no space in her head to think of what she might say. She felt the desire to blurt out her feelings to Leo growing so strong within her that it drove almost all other considerations from her mind, and made her very poor company indeed. It occupied and obsessed her thoughts. But at the same time, she still hesitated. After all the upsets of the last few days,she did not think she could endure it if he refused to believe her when she declared her love. They were to be married tomorrow, and surely it must be best to wait till after then to speak. How could she stand in front of the altar with him and speak those loaded words again if some fresh estrangement, some new rejection, should arise in the meantime? It would be too painful, and yet because of her circumstances, she would be obliged to go through with the wedding, whatever happened. As would he.
They agreed to hold the brief ceremony in the Pendleburys’ private chapel in the late morning, then celebrate, for want of a better word, over a nuncheon at the Castle, after which they would leave together for Winter Manor for a night’s stay. It was, as matters stood presently, a painful farce – a pretence at normality and joy when the reality was far different. They would be alone there throughout the afternoon and evening, and what needed to be said could be said then, in privacy. Isabella feared that come tomorrow she would find another weak reason to put it off – she dreaded so much to see disbelief, even disgust, written on his face – but she knew all the while that it was vital she was completely honest with Leo before they reached Harrogate, before he left her there, before a breach was opened up that might never be healed. It might already be too late; she might not be able to convince him that her feelings were genuine. But good God, she had to try.
The hours seemed to rush by, as they had not last time she was married. ‘Last time she was married’, a phrase she had never thought to say. Then, she had been nineteen and in a fever of impatience for the day to arrive, and the wait had felt long, though it had only been a few weeks. Now it was a much briefer time, and she wished it longer, or would, were it not for the secret of her condition. There was no time to order a special gown to wear, and she was glad of it. She would make do with one of her new day dresses. To be tricking herself outin finery like a virgin bride would be inappropriate. Last time she had worn… But no. She wouldn’t even let it cross her mind. If she could get through tomorrow without thinking of that day in Harrogate, and Ash smiling down at her in his regimentals, loving her and confident she loved him, she would count it a small victory.
If she had been brave enough to tell Leo how she felt before, she’d be less apprehensive. She wished she’d done it, now. But it was too late. It would have to be afterwards.
She asked Lady Carston to be her supporter; she felt she needed one, and was not inclined to ask Cassandra. All too soon the next morning was upon her and she found herself waiting in her bedchamber, alone with Jane for a brief moment. ‘Are you sure you really want to do this?’ that lady said, regarding her with an uncomfortably penetrating gaze. ‘This is not the time for confidences, but I can see you have been suffering, you are white as a sheet, and if you decide at the last moment you do not want to take this grave step, for whatever reason, I will stand your friend, you know, and help you if I can.’
‘Thank you, you are very kind. But I am resolved to do it.’
‘That wasn’t exactly what I asked!’
‘I know it wasn’t. Well, the plain truth is, I have no choice. I must do this, and soon.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Lady Carston involuntarily, her expression one of sudden comprehension and almost comic dismay.
It seemed a long while since Isabella had laughed, but she could not repress a chuckle at that. ‘Quite,’ she said drily. ‘But I want to, as well. Truly I do. It is just… a little complicated. But I have hopes that everything will resolve itself. I only need the courage to speak.’
‘Good gracious, you mean he doesn’t know?’ hissed her companion. The door was opening; it was a maid, for they were being summoned.
She only had time to whisper, ‘Oh, he knowsthat!’ before they were proceeding together down the stairs, to where Lord Irlam, who was to give her away – there was after all nobody else suitable to do it at this most rushed of ceremonies – was waiting.
Just as they reached him, Jane said quietly, ‘You don’t lack courage. Never think that. You are brave enough for anything. And all will be well, I’m sure.’ She was touched by her words and blinked away a sudden tear as she took Lord Irlam’s arm and pasted on a smile. It was time.
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