The Enigmatic Lady in the Ivory Tower

by Hazel Linwood

  When Diana finished with the inside of the manor house, she moved to the gardens beyond. She walked along the rose hedge, touching the velvety soft pink and white petals as she went. She breathed in the scent of them, simultaneously sweet and something else indefinable akin to spice, but different.

  “Exquisite, are they not?” a masculine voice surprised her.

  “Yes, indeed,” she turned to find a tall man with golden blond hair and blue eyes, the same blue eyes as the Dowager Marchioness, only kinder, gentler. “You must be the Marquess of Westwallow,” she greeted kindly.

  “Indeed, and you must be Lady Diana Bexley of Kilgrave.”

  “I am, My Lord.” Diana curtsied in respect to her host. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Please, call me Ernest. My mother and your grandmother were as sisters to one another. That makes us practically cousins.”

  Diana inclined her head, pleased at his invitation. “Thank you, Ernest.”

  “Not at all. I am pleased to have you come to stay with us. It will do my mother good to have another lady about the house. I fear that she has grown quite solitary in her advancing years.”

  “I am told that she was quite a lady of society in her younger years.”

  “Oh, yes, very much so. It has saddened me to see her lose such a part of herself, but as they say, time and tide wait for no man, or woman,” he amended inclining his head in respect.

  “Indeed. My father is quite fond of reminding me.”

  Ernest chuckled. “I have heard the rumors of a possible impending engagement.”

  “It is nothing but my father’s fanciful musings, I assure you,” Diana retorted in displeasure. “I have no intentions of such a thing coming to pass.”

  “I take it that you do not care for Tobias, then?”

  “I do not know. I have never met the Earl of Appley, but I refuse to wed for anything less than love.”

  “If you have not met Tobias, then how do you know that you would not love him?”

  Ernest’s words made Diana pause in thought. She had not considered such a thing in her need to rebel against an arranged marriage. “I do not know.”

  Ernest chuckled. “Then perhaps you should give the matter further thought.”

  “I take it that you are acquainted with the gentleman in question?”

  “I am,” Ernest nodded.

  “And your opinion of him?”

  “To my knowledge, he is a man of honor. Some might call him handsome, but I will leave you to judge such things. His estate is well appointed on the Isle of Wight, from his mother’s family, you know, the Hutt family. He was his maternal grandfather’s heir. His father’s people, the Blythe family, hailed from Scotland originally. I believe that he has adopted both names out of respect for both families.”

  “Such a consideration speaks well of him.” Diana felt a pang of guilt for having judged a man so harshly before ever meeting him.

  “Indeed, it does.” Ernest nodded in agreement. “However, I do understand your point of view. There is much to be said for marrying for love. I loved someone once—my wife, Agatha, long ago—sadly it was not to be. She died along with our unborn babe in childbirth. I swore that I would never love again, and I have not.”

  “My sister, Lady Georgette, feels much the same as you do after the death of her affianced in the Napoleonic Wars.”

  “Yes, I had heard. I was truly sorry to hear of it. I understand the pain that your sister must feel. Might I assume that it is she—and her pain—that is driving your determination now?”

  “Yes, one could assume so, or that it at least plays a part in it.”

  “Understandable, given the circumstances, but perhaps not perceived to be practical by others in your social circle?”

  “Precisely,” Diana nodded, relieved to have someone who understood her point of view. “Might I assume that your mother does not agree with your own sentiments on the subject?”

  “You may indeed. She does not agree, and it has caused quite a bit of strife between us, I am afraid.”

  They fell in beside each other, walking and talking as if they had always known one another. Diana was pleased to have found a kindred spirit, of sorts, within the household and hoped that her stay at Westwallow would be made more tolerable by the discovery.

  “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “As I am for yours.” He nodded his head in acknowledgement of their families’ shared pain.

  “Thank you. It was my sister’s loss the most, but it has had an effect on everyone within our household. He was a good man.”

  Ernest nodded in agreement and then continued walking. He told her of his wife, how they had met, how they had lived. His words encouraged Diana that she was in the right to hold out for love. It was not the conventional choice to marry for love, she knew, but in spite of Georgette’s and Ernest’s respective heartbreaks, neither of them would have changed their choice of mate. That in and of itself spoke volumes of love’s worth. Diana voiced her conclusions.

  “Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight,” Ernest quoted from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. He gave her a bittersweet smile. “I would not wish such a doomed love upon anyone, and yet I would not deprive them of it, either. If one must choose between a life with love and a life without, then one must choose love, every time. I cannot recommend any other way.”

  “Your words give my heart courage.”

  “It pleases me to hear it.” They found themselves standing back at the rose hedge where they had met, and he bowed to bid her adieu. “This is where I must leave you, but I look forward to future conversations. Will I be seeing you at dinner this evening?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” Diana nodded.

  “I look forward to seeing you. Until then, please feel free to make yourself comfortable. If you need a horse during your stay, I recommend the stable hand, Gabriel Rowan. He is an accomplished horseman and he knows the estate well.”

  “Thank you, My Lord. I shall do so as soon as time allows.”

  Nodding once, Ernest smiled, and then was gone. Diana turned back toward the house, feeling a bit better than she had upon her arrival, for having found a likeminded soul.

  I should invite Georgette to come to Westwallow Manor to meet the Marquess. I believe that they would have much in common to discuss and perhaps offer one another some comfort.

  Pleased with the idea, Diana decided that she would write to her sister once she had settled into her new surroundings and ascertained the Dowager Marchioness’ true character.

  I do not want to bring Georgette into a household where she would be made to feel worse than she already does.

  Chapter 4

  Entering the house, Diana returned to her room to ready for the dinner hour. She found Frances awaiting her, a warm bath and clothing ready for her to step into.

  “How was your turn about the gardens?”

  “It was informative.” Diana disrobed and sank beneath the water’s surface. “I met the Marquess.”

  “And what sort of person is he? Is he as cold as his mother and the household servants?”

  “No, he is not. He was quite welcoming. A pleasant change from the greeting that the Dowager Marchioness gave me.”

  “It is good that you have found an ally within the household.”

  “Indeed.”

  Diana scrubbed herself clean, then stepped out of the tub and into a waiting bath sheet. Wrapping herself firmly in its warmed embrace, she sat down and allowed Frances to brush and style her hair. Frances did everything within her exceptional skills to make sure that Diana looked as perfect as possible. Diana was grateful for the effort as she did not wish to further antagonize the Dowager by going down to dinner in a state of disarray.

  She sincerely did not understand what had caused the Marchioness to react the way that she did, but she was determined not to have it happen again if it was at all in her
power to do so. She knew that she had not pleased her parents by refusing to wed the nobleman of their choice, but it had surprised her that they had informed the Dowager of her refusal.

  It would appear that my parents have placed a great deal of trust in the Dowager Marchioness, trust I do not share.

  Once Frances had finished with her hair, Diana slipped into her gown. It was a lovely lavender gown, exactly appropriate for the occasion. Diana stood in front of the looking glass and appraised her appearance. Frances had intertwined a matching ribbon in Diana’s hair, the soft brown curls framing her face in such a way as to have the most appeal.

  “It will do.” She nodded her head in determination, squaring her shoulders as if she were preparing to do battle instead of going down to dine.

  “You are beautiful,” Frances reassured her.

  Diana took Frances’ hands in her own. “Thank you for all that you do for me. Without you by my side, life would be unbearable, and I would be utterly desolate in this place.”

  “I live to serve, My Lady.” Frances squeezed Diana’s hands in affection. “Now, you must go before you displease the Dowager Marchioness by being tardy.”

  “We cannot have that, now can we,” Diana answered, making a funny face that caused Frances to giggle. Diana gave her friend’s hands another squeeze, then turned to leave the room.

  She moved down the hallway and descended the stairs to the dining room below. When she entered, she found both the Marquess and the Dowager Marchioness were already there.

  “My apologies, if I have caused you to wait.”

  “Tardiness is not only disrespectful to your host and hostess, but it also shows a spectacular lack of self-discipline. A punctual person is a respectful person,” the Dowager Marchioness chastised her.

  The Marquess frowned at his mother’s harsh words. “I am certain that our guest is simply tired from her journey, Mother.”

  “That is no excuse,” the Dowager Marchioness waved away her son’s words as if they were annoying flies at a picnic. “Tardiness is unacceptable.”

  “As is inhospitality,” the Marquess reminded. “Come, Lady Diana. Please join us.” He motioned for a footman to pull out her chair.

  Diana vaguely remembered that the young man’s name was Stephen. “You are the young man who greeted me upon my arrival, are you not?” she inquired, lowering herself into the extended seat. “Stephen, is it?”

  “Yes, My Lady,” he nodded in confirmation.

  “Thank you, Stephen.” Diana nodded in gratitude, then turned her attention back to her host and hostess.

  Dinner moved slowly, one course after another, the silence broken by the Marquess’ conversation with Diana about her life at Kilgrave Manor. They spoke of their childhoods, their fathers, their current lives, and why Diana had come to Westwallow.

  “Well, I find your manners to be impeccable and your beauty to be beyond renown. I see no reason for further training, but I am not the parent of a young lady. Regardless, I am certainly glad to have you here with us now. I have no doubt that your presence will add light to this old house.”

  “If she were so perfect, she would not have been sent to me,” the Dowager Marchioness remarked, judgment of Diana clear in her tone. “Perhaps I shall not wait to begin your lessons until the morrow. Perhaps I should begin them now.” The pointed look that the Dowager Marchioness gave Diana left no doubt as to her intentions to punish Diana for some perceived failure.

  “Perhaps,” the Marquess interrupted, his tone leaving no invitation for his mother to argue, “Lady Diana would prefer to retire to her rooms for the night. I am certain that she is tired from her journey and wishes to rest.”

  “Indeed, I am quite tired and can think of nothing that I would like more in this moment than to sleep,” Diana agreed, grateful to the Marquess for his understanding and the offered reprieve. Arising from her chair, she curtsied to the Marquess and the Dowager Marchioness, and turned to make her escape.

  “There will be no one here to save you tomorrow, Lady Diana,” the Dowager Marchioness’ words trailed after her, their threat quite clear, promising great discomfiture. “We shall see then what you are truly made of.”

  Diana retreated to her room where Frances awaited her to aid her in preparing for bed. “How was it?”

  “Just as uncomfortable as one might imagine,” Diana answered, removing her gown. She pulled her nightgown over her head and slipped beneath the bed linens. The cool fabric brushed against her warm skin, causing a shiver to pass through her body, before the warmth of her body heated the space between.

  “I am truly sorry, My Lady. I had hoped that it would be better for you with the Marquess present.”

  “Oh, it was. The Marquess did his best to shield me from his mother, but that just made her angrier. She has promised a difficult day upon the morrow. I am not at all certain that I am up to the challenge.”

  “You are Lady Diana Bexley of Kilgrave. You are strong enough to face anything.”

  Diana smiled in gratitude. “Thank you, Frances. You are a true friend.”

  “Goodnight, My Lady. Rest well.” Frances smiled, curtsied, then left the room, taking Diana’s clothing with her to launder.

  Diana lay still in her bed, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. She was tired to her very bones, and yet slumber would not claim her through the fog of worry that haunted her. Arising in frustration, Diana donned her cloak and quietly left her room. When she could not sleep at Kilgrave, she would go to the stables and sit with the horses for a time to calm her inner spirit. She hoped that she would be able to do the same at Westwallow.

  The Dowager Marchioness would be very angry were she to know what I was about.

  Not wishing to further anger her hostess, Diana crept out of the house, being careful not to be seen. She made her way through the darkness toward the stables. The moment she smelled the familiar musk of horses and hay, she instantly felt more at ease and began to relax. Entering a stall, she grabbed a brush from the wall and began to brush one of the horses. It was a soft chestnut, with deep dark eyes. With each stroke, more of the tension left Diana’s body.

  Once she had finished brushing down the pretty little mare, she spotted a crate with some apples in it in the passage and bent down to grab one to feed to the horse. The sound of a step behind her alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. Immediately alarmed by the realization, Diana attempted to stand and retreat, only to crash into the hardened, muscled chest of a man.

  Diana fell back onto her rear, screaming as she fell. She screamed even more loudly when a shadow fell across her face blocking what little light she had managed to get from a lantern high on the wall. A large hand came around and covered her mouth.

  I am going to die, or worse.

  Her thoughts went wild with fear. She was certain that something horrible was going to happen to her in that moment and her heart ached for her family and her home.

  I do not want to die here, in this place. I cannot!

  “Shh, I mean you no harm, but it would not do to have you screaming to wake the entire household in the dead of night. Your reputation would be ruined. I only placed my hand over your mouth for your sake, not mine. I mean you no harm,” a deep voice attempted to soothe her from behind. “If you promise not to scream, I will remove my hand. Do you promise?

  Diana nodded her head in agreement, attempting to calm down, and the man removed his hand from her mouth. Extending his hand, he helped her to stand.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Gabriel Rowan. I am a stable hand here at Westwallow.”

  “Lady Diana Bexley of Kilgrave,” she introduced herself reservedly.

  “Ah, yes, I saw you arrive. Tell me, are you here to wed the Marquess?”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Either way, you should not be here, especially not in a nightgown. You should return to your rooms at once.”

  Diana swallowed hard in fear at the closeness of his body
to her own. “Do not tell me what to do,” she commanded and then without taking a backward glance at her cautioner, Diana fled for the house as fast as her feet would carry her. It was not until she reentered the house that she realized the name of the stranger as the man that the Marquess had recommended.