“They cannot be up to any good,” Isabel said.
“Some things never change,” her mother replied. Then she sighed. “I now have two daughters who will have their first season this year. Then Annabel. It feels like just yesterday when you were all children.”
“We will always be your daughters,” Isabel said warmly. “No matter how old we grow or who we marry. You will never lose us.”
Her mother nodded in agreement. “Yes, of course,” she replied. “It is the empty home in London at night while they are away that bothers me. Although, I suppose I shall keep myself busy waiting to hear of their stories when they return.”
Isabel thought for a moment. “I will speak with Laurence, but why not join us in our home? There are more than enough rooms, and I would love the company during the day.”
Her mother hesitated for a moment and then smiled. “If he allows it. I do not want to become a burden to the man more than I already have.”
Isabel laughed. “You could never be a burden to either of us, I assure you.”
They spoke for several moments before the string quartet began a new set. Then two guests entered the ballroom. Harriet wore a sweeping green gown with gold thread and white lace. Her husband Ambrose looked dashing in a dark blue coat and tan breeches. Or Isabel assumed it was her husband, for they had yet to meet.
Laurence walked over to them, giving Harriet a kiss on her cheek and Ambrose a firm handshake. Then he nodded to Isabel.
“Forgive me, Mother,” she said. “I must speak to someone.”
When she reached Laurence, he introduced her to Ambrose, who bowed deeply before kissing her hand. He seemed a kind man with a good wit, but she was unable to speak with him long when Harriet asked to speak to her alone.
“The day of your wedding to my brother,” Harriet said after Isabel closed the door to the drawing room, “I spoke the cruelest of words to you. And I did not stop. My time there was spent in anger and hatred, and for that, I wish only to seek your forgiveness. I understand if we do not become fast friends, and if you wish to never speak to me again, I will be forced to accept it. However, you must know that I am truly sorry and hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Laurence had told her his sister had changed, but she had never expected to find an entirely different woman in her place. How could she not forgive someone who would humble herself so completely? “Of course I accept your apology,” Isabel replied. “I hold no grudge against you. I am happy you are finding your way in life, and it serves you well.”
“It will, Your Grace,” Harriet replied with clear relief. “I know it has only been a short time since I have come to realize my many mistakes, I find it much better to be kind and listen than to be harsh and always speaking.” The woman giggled and then looked down at the floor. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”
Isabel smiled as she took Harriet’s hand in hers. “At one time you mentioned that we would become great friends.”
“Yes, but…”
“Allow me to finish. Friends, and especially family, call each other by their Christian names. So, I must ask you, Harriet, are we friends? Better yet, are we not family?”
Harriet broke into a wide grin. “Yes, Isabel, we are. We are both family and friends.”
“Good,” Isabel replied as she hugged her sister-in-law. If anyone had asked her if this day would come several months earlier, she would never have believed it, and yet, here they stood embracing one another.
“I truly am sorry,” Harriet said as she dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief.
“All is forgiven, so no more talk of apologies. Now, we should return to the party or everyone will think we have sneaked away to drink.”
This brought on a bout of giggles that reminded Isabel so much of her sisters. She was thankful their relationship had been mended.
They returned to the party, and music played, guests laughed and drank, but only one man made her heart leap. Laurence said something to his friends and walked over to stand beside her.
“How is it I have been so fortunate to marry the most beautiful woman in all the land?”
“I often ask myself how my husband is the most handsome,” she replied. “He is such a great painter, among many other traits.” She gave him a cryptic smile that made him grin widely. “Some may call it luck, but I believe what we know it to be.”
“Indeed,” he replied.
They both turned to gaze over the crowd, for what they shared was love. The very foundation of what had brought them together and had been able to heal them of troubled pasts. It was the same love that some who had attended their party already possessed and what others pursued. It was not always an easy journey; in fact, it was as treacherous as any expedition to a faraway land could ever tout.
Yet, it was also the finished painting much like the one that hung behind them that was the goal. For that work of art had been completed together, and it depicted Laurence and Isabel standing at the doors to Camellia Estates, the children to come at their side.
Epilogue
In three days, Isabel and Laurence would leave for London, ready to attend the season. Numerous invitations had already been sent and received, and Isabel could not wait. She had checked and rechecked their belongings, and Laurence, who watched as he leaned against the door jamb of their bedroom door, laughed.
“I will be forced to buy another carriage to carry all the clothes you wish to take,” he teased.
Isabel joined in with his laughter and then looked at the many bags and trunks that surrounded her. “I suppose you might, at that,” she replied. “It is just that I am excited about our first season together as a married couple.” She walked over and took his hands in hers. “I want to show off my husband to everyone who will allow me to do so.”
“And I will be watching in awe as you grace every home.”
Isabel smiled, and then their lips met, which happened several times a day. It was beautiful, soft yet filled with passion.
However, much to their annoyance, a timid knock on the door brought the kiss to an end.
“You do not have to answer, you know,” Laurence whispered.
Isabel laughed. “I know, but it may be important.”
She opened the door to find Weber with a tray in his hand. “A letter arrived for you from Scarlett Hall, Your Grace,” the butler said with a bow. “The rider said it was urgent.”
Isabel took the letter from the tray. “Thank you,” she mumbled as Laurence joined her. She hoped all was well, but as she read the letter, that hope was dashed.
“What is it?” Laurence asked. “Is your mother all right? Or your sisters?”
“Yes, Mother is fine, but it is Hannah. Apparently, Mother asks for our aid.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Whatever they need, we will help.”
Isabel nodded as thoughts rushed through her mind. Could it be true that her beloved and meek Hannah had been doing the things of which their mother accused her? It was something she might have thought Juliet to do, but not Hannah.
“Isabel?”
“We must leave for Scarlett Hall at once,” she said, grabbing only one of the many bags she had packed. “I will explain everything on the way.
Echoes of the Heart
Prologue
Scarlett Hall, January 1806
Eleanor Lambert awoke with a start from a horrible nightmare concerning her middle daughter, Hannah. In the dream, the girl was in trouble, and Eleanor had been unable to rescue her. From what danger Eleanor did not know, but it sent her heart into a rapid flutter and left her breathless, nonetheless.
Just enough moonlight filtered through an opening in the drapes to allow Eleanor to light a candle that sat in the brass holder beside her bed. Although it was silly to believe anything was wrong, she felt the need to check on the quietest of her three daughters. Therefore, she donned her dressing gown and, with candle in hand, made her way down the chilly hall toward Hannah’s bedroom.
The next door led to Hannah’s bedroom, and Eleanor listened for any sounds coming from within but heard nothing. It was common for Hannah to sleep quieter than her sisters, but with the fright Eleanor had endured, she knew she would never sleep if she did not check on the girl.
Girl? Eleanor thought with a clenched heart. Hannah was nineteen and therefore a woman. How could Eleanor still consider her a girl?
She turned the door handle and entered the room. The figure of her daughter wrapped in a blanket on the bed warmed Eleanor’s heart. Memories of coming in at night and reading the child a story, or telling her one of her own, flooded her mind, and it was early on when Hannah wanted to do the reading. The girl had remarkable abilities in reading and storytelling, even from a young age, and had not given up on either even as a young woman.
Isabel, Eleanor’s eldest daughter, was now married and made her home in Camellia Estates. At least she was not far from Scarlett Hall. Soon, Hannah and Juliet, a year apart in age, would find gentlemen and be off to new homes, as well, leaving Eleanor alone in a house much too large for one person and a slew of servants. Alone, that is, until Nathaniel, the youngest of Eleanor’s children, returned from boarding school.
Sadness pressed down on Eleanor, but she pushed it aside. It was what children did; they grew to adults, married, and started their own families. Is that not what she had done herself?
She made her way to the bed and frowned at the body hidden by the blanket. Hannah was curled up into a ball, and Eleanor could not blame her; the chill of the winter air seeped through cracks in the windowpanes, and she shivered in response. With a smile, she leaned over and pulled the blanket back enough to allow Hannah more air to breathe.
However, it was not her daughter’s blond tresses she saw but instead an old dress rolled into a ball resting on the pillow and other clothes bundled together to create the body.
Panic overtook her as she sat on the edge of the bed. How could it be that her sweet innocent Hannah had slipped out of the house? And, where would she go?
Eleanor had been spending her time worrying over Juliet and her mischief that it never occurred to her to also keep an eye on Hannah. The girl had never done anything to give her cause to worry, unlike Juliet, who lay in the room next door, her snoring audible from here. Poor Juliet had taken a terrible fall two days earlier in the stables, injuring her foot.
Poor girl, indeed! Whenever Hannah was caught in some misdeed, Juliet was oftentimes not far behind—or rather in front. However, with Juliet unable to move about, Eleanor could draw only one conclusion: Hannah had slipped away of her own accord.
Oh, there had been rumors amongst the servants, but Eleanor had dismissed them when she had thought they were speaking of Juliet. That girl sneaking out of the house would not have surprised her one bit. But Hannah? That did give her pause.
She sighed, for she had no one to blame but herself. The last year had been a trying one, and in the process of working through the problems, she had neglected her daughters, and Hannah had sought solace elsewhere.
The signs had been there all along, but she had ignored them. Hannah had withdrawn from her, their hugs and conversations less over the past year. Eleanor could not stop the guilt that washed over her, and the voice of her late husband came to haunt her. Charles had warned her that Hannah, like all women according to him, could not be trusted. It was one of the few times Eleanor had stood up to the man, a decision she had never regretted, even today.
Letting out a sigh, she gathered her thoughts. If Hannah sought company this night, Eleanor hoped it was not with a man. She shivered, dismissing such ideas. Hannah had told her she had no interest in courting, and she certainly was not in love. However, what if that had been a lie?
With a heavy heart, Eleanor rose from the bed and made her way down the stairs to the foyer. She was so caught up in her worries, she did not notice the butler standing beside the front door until she was nearly upon him.
“Forbes,” she gasped, her hand moving to her breast. “You startled me.”
The tall man emerged from the shadows. Although he was just a few years older than Eleanor, his hair was a cap of silver and made him appear older than he was.
“Forgive me, my Lady,” he said with a deep bow. “I heard footsteps and wished to make certain all was secure. Are you all right?”
Eleanor began to nod but then stopped. “No, I am not all right. Hannah is gone, and in her bed is a decoy to hide her escape.” She narrowed her eyes at the man. “Do you know anything about her whereabouts?”
“No, my Lady,” he replied with eyes wide with shock at the mere suggestion of him participating in such a conspiracy. “Shall I search the house?”
“Thank you,” Eleanor replied. “I will be in the study. Please tell me if you learn anything.”
Forbes gave a quick nod and then disappeared into the shadows as candlelight lit Eleanor’s way to the study. She used the single candle to light others and took a seat at the desk before taking a quill in hand. Writing letters had always been a way for her to release worry, and now she would pen two, just as she had eight months earlier.
Taking a deep breath, she released it, but her worry over Hannah did not subside. Where could her daughter have gone? The girl’s love of books and stories would be her undoing if she was not careful.
When she had gained some semblance of calm, she began to write:
Charles,
You would be pleased to know that Scarlett Hall was saved due to the sacrifice made by Isabel. Her strength of enduring the death of her husband and accepting a marriage of convenience has provided Hannah and Juliet with a chance at a better life. I believe you would be proud, for the strength Isabel possesses is admired by many.
However, Hannah is the main subject of this letter. The most innocent of our daughters, the one who would prefer to remain home and read than to attend parties, the one who dreams of writing a book rather than marrying, has surprised me. In just a few days, she is to leave for her first season, but she has told me she does not wish to attend. If I force her hand in this matter, will she run away? And if so, into whose arms? This is a great concern for me, for I understand all too well that a woman can be easily led astray, and Hannah can be much too trusting for her own good.
My hand will be forced, and although I can think of many reasons not to stop her from following her heart, I must do so, for her own sake.
I am aware that this letter is quite unpleasant, but I must do what I must. I only hope that Hannah forgives me.
Your Wife,
Eleanor
With a sigh, Eleanor placed the parchment to the side and took another. Now, she would have to write to Isabel and once again ask for her strength. Although few options existed, the help of her eldest daughter would be needed, and she had no doubt the woman would rush to her aid.
A knock at the door made her turn to see Forbes enter the room.
“My apologies, my Lady. The servants who are awake know nothing. I searched outside in hopes of finding her, and it led me to find a horse missing from the stables.”
Eleanor nodded. “Thank you, Forbes. If a horse is missing, it is clear she has felt the property. I will wait up in hopes she will return by morning. It is too late to do anything until then, anyway. That is all. You should rest now. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“If you require anything, my Lady,” he said with another of his deep bows.
“I will not hesitate to ask,” she replied with a smile.
Forbes nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Eleanor dipped the nib of the quill in the ink and began the second letter as the candles flickered beside her.
My Dearest Isabel, …
Chapter One
Although Miss Hannah Lambert had sneaked from her home after everyone was fast asleep on several occasions in the past, the fear that overtook her each time she did so was not easy to endure. It was the fear of someone catching her or of being set upon by highwaymen, both reasonable rationales of which to be fearful. However, she had one fear less rational, and for whatever reason, she found it frightened her more than the others.
The fact of the matter was that her younger sister Juliet, one well known for her fantastical stories, had included amongst the possible horrors of being out late at night tales of men who roamed the night in order to kidnap women and force them into marriage.
The idea of being kidnapped was terrifying enough, but to be forced into marriage was what caused her to shiver as her horse trudged down the road. In her mind, marriage was for the simpleminded, and Hannah was much too intelligent to be tricked into such a relationship.
For one, a woman would have to fall in love in order to be married, and she had yet to experience such an emotion—not outside of the love she had for her family. She had read extensively on the subject, and although Isabel, her elder sister, had found love for the second time, that did not mean Hannah was meant to find it for herself. It was true she had shied away from any men who attempted to call, and last season—which was to be her coming out season—she had feigned illness in order to remain home rather than join others her age in London. Even her mother did not suspect deception, and although it hurt Hannah to deceive the woman she loved dearly, the cause was worthy of such dramatics.
The truth was, Hannah had a dream to publish a novel, and that dream would never be realized if she were to fall in love. No man would allow his wife to become a writer—a woman writer was frowned upon, married or not, as it was. Even if she found a man willing to allow her to do such a thing, she knew love would keep her from writing. Had love not consumed Isabel over the past month? The woman would sit and stare at her husband with a grin so wide it was almost silly. Well, seeing such things were nice from afar, but they were far better when one wrote about them.
Secrets of Scarlett Hall Box Set: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection Page 22