“Tell me what’s happened to make you feel this way?”
He dashed a hand through his hair, making him look roguishly handsome, even if she was biased, then his shoulders slumped and he seemed to deflate before her eyes.
“I thought we were finally making progress; she was opening up, even being affectionate to one of the children, then she just turned and left without a second look.”
His words didn’t make an awful lot of sense to her, so she grabbed his hand the next time he passed.
“Sit down and tell me everything,” she said in her best mother-knows-best tone. It didn’t always work now that her children were grown, but sometimes it was effective and it seemed that Nate did want to talk.
He sat beside her and began to explain the events of the day.
***
Isabelle could hardly believe the tale that Nate had told her, of a distraught Damaris and a dramatic arrest and rescue of the children in Mrs Murray’s care. It hardly married up with the image she had of their guest, but she knew that grief could do strange things to a person.
She also had a feeling that Damaris desperately wanted to reconnect with the people around her, she was just frightened to, terrified of being hurt again. Isabelle had some sympathy with that.
She made her way straight to Damaris’ room and knocked, but there was no reply. She looked inside but it was empty so she headed downstairs. The door to the study was open so she tried there first and sure enough, she found their guest sitting on a sofa, reading some papers.
“Mari?” she called from the doorway.
The woman looked up and Isabelle could see the events of the day on her features. She looked weary and frightened.
“Your friend Elizabeth called while you were out,” Isabelle told her.
“Oh…” After a few moments of silence, she looked back to the papers.
Isabelle had expected more of a response than that.
“She left a calling card if you want to see it.”
“Sorry?” Damaris looked at her again, not having registered her words immediately. “A card, yes, of course. Um, no, I don’t need to see it, thank you. She probably left it for you anyway, I’ve known her since I was a child. Did she say when she would return, or does she want me to call on her?”
“She said to tell you that she would call again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But I…” she appeared anxious.
“You and Nate will be investigating the case, I presume.”
Damaris sighed. “Actually, probably not. I think we have exhausted our existing leads and I don’t know what to do next. I was re-reading these documents hoping to find something I had overlooked the first time.”
Isabelle took a few steps into the room.
“What documents are they?”
“Things that my father left with his mistress. She lied when I asked if she had anything of his, but she gave them to your son.”
Isabelle didn’t think that she imagined the bitterness in Damaris’ voice, but it did surprise her.
“You trusted this woman?” she asked stepping further into the room.
“I did. I think she genuinely cared for my father and I have taken care of her since he disappeared. I thought she was my friend.”
“Did she offer no explanation for her deception?”
“She gave Nate a letter full of excuses, but I didn’t want to read it.”
Isabelle didn’t know how to respond to that.
“You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?”
“Not at all, my dear. You have taken care of this woman for nigh on six years now and considered her a friend, which means you must have trusted her. No matter how pure her motives may have been, what she did was wrong. However…”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, Damaris urged her to continue.
“Well, it just seems to me that while your friend’s guilt isn’t in doubt, there might be mitigating circumstances. Wouldn’t it be best to know the whole story before condemning her?”
Now Damaris was unsure how to answer but Isabelle had got off track, so she went to sit beside Damaris on the sofa.
“How are you?” Isabelle asked. “I mean truly; I heard that you had a rather upsetting day and when I came in, you seemed rather stunned.”
“Yes, well… I did what had to be done.” Her cheeks turned crimson, which made her look quite deceptively innocent.
“It didn’t have to be done today though, did it?”
“Why procrastinate?” Damaris turned back to the papers she was holding, trying to end the conversation.
“Nate told me that there was a beautiful girl among the children. Ella?”
“Yes, she was… very sweet.”
“There’s no shame in feelings,” Isabelle said, unsure how to reach this woman.
“But there is in unseemly displays.”
“Is there? It strikes me that in some areas, we could use some more unseemly displays; child welfare being one of them.”
“Yes, perhaps I should think about petitioning Parliament.” Damaris seemed thoughtful.
“But will that help Ella?”
Damaris looked surprised by the question. “Well, no, not for a while.”
“So you think that petitioning Parliament for a change in the law is the right way to proceed, yet you practically kidnap nine children because they were neglected?”
“That was an emotional decision,” Damaris sounded defensive. “Emotions are not logical.”
“You say that as if it were a bad thing.”
“It is,” Damaris sounded surprised. “It is illogical to spend my time helping nine children, when it could be more effectively used getting legislation passed that could help hundreds.”
“And what of Ella?”
“She-” Pain flashed across her features. “She’s safe now.”
“Safe, yes, but alone.”
“She has the other children, and Lilly.”
“But not a mother. Not someone to tuck her in at night, to kiss her feverish brow, to hold her while she cries.”
“Lilly can do all that,” Damaris insisted. “She did it for me.”
“But now, Lilly has eight other children to look after, and she won’t be there forever… You could be, however.”
“What!”
“You could be there for Ella.”
“That’s… insane! That child is just like any other, nothing exceptional about her at all, so why should she be singled out from the others to be rescued from the orphanage, as if she were more deserving?”
“She could be more deserving.”
“But we don’t know that.”
“Then why have you become attached to her?” Isabelle asked.
“I’m not!” Damaris lied but Isabelle’s expression said that she didn’t believe her. “She was sweet, and shy, but she is the one who formed the attachment to me, not the other way around.”
“But you do feel attached, don’t you?”
“I…”
Damaris didn’t answer and Isabelle decided that the only way to reach her, might be by revealing some things that she preferred not to think about often.
“I always wanted a large family,” Isabelle said. “I was an only child, you see, so at one time I thought that I wouldn’t even mind a dozen, although I admit that I may have been foolish there but in my defence, I was only thirteen at the time.”
“Why didn’t you?” Damaris asked, although she didn’t sound sure that she wanted to know the answer. She did lower the papers that she held however.
“I couldn’t. I suppose I inherited that trait from my own mother. I conceived many times, I just couldn’t bring most to full term. I have been with child fourteen times but the final loss… I bled so much that they feared I might die, and the doctor told me that if I tried again, I would die. So I gave up on my dream and contented myself with four.”
“Four?”
Isabelle looked into her eyes and the pain Damaris saw there was palpable.
“Typhoid. We almost all caught it, family and servants, but my youngest son was the worst. He was my last baby and he had been born early so he was a sickly child but by the time he reached five, he seemed as healthy as my other boys, so I began to relax. I thought he was going to be fine; grow up, grow old, have a beautiful family and die of old age.”
“I’m so sorry.” Damaris reached out and held the other woman’s hand. She couldn’t even imagine the pain of losing ten children to miscarriage and one to illness. How had Isabelle found the strength to go on?
“It wasn’t easy,” Isabelle said, as if reading her mind. I had low spirits after each child I lost but when Mark died… I had never known grief like it, nor since. Not even losing my husband could compare, although I loved him dearly.”
“How…” Damaris wasn’t sure what she wanted to ask. How did she recover? How did she go on? How did she find happiness again?
“My husband came to me one day and told me that if I didn’t get ahold of myself soon, I was going to lose all my children.”
Damaris gasped at such insensitivity.
“Oh, no, he didn’t mean that he would take them from me, he meant that I would alienate them, and he was right. He had tried to be patient and understanding but after three months of hardly leaving my room, he could see that kindness wasn’t working, and he could also see that my children were hurt by my disinterest.”
That still didn’t answer Damaris’ question, but she didn’t have the words to verbalise what she wanted to know.
“Now I look back on those times and realise that as much as losing Mark pained me, I would have lost so much more by closing myself off to the agonies of loss, because when you close your heart to pain, you also close it to joy.”
“But what if-”
“What if what?” she cut Damaris off. “If another child had died? The same would have applied. Pain is part of life but you have to use it to measure the good times against, otherwise the pain can swallow you whole. Which is why,” she took the papers from Damaris’ lap, “I am forbidding you to do any work on this case after six o’clock. The evening is family time and while you are in my house, you will abide by my rules and spend time with my family.”
Damaris’ eyes opened wide. “But…”
“I know.” Isabelle smiled. “You feel as if these papers won’t let you leave them but don’t you see, you are hiding in work. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t find your father’s killer, or that you should stop your studies and experiments once you have caught the killer. I’m only asking that you not let your work or your father’s death rule your life because if you do, you will close yourself off from life and that never ends well.”
“I…” Her eyes welled with tears. “I feel like I’m betraying him.”
“Betraying who?” Isabelle frowned.
“Thomas… my… my son.” Her tears spilled over and she seemed to be working hard to contain her grief. “I worry that if I love someone else, especially if I have another child, I’ll be betraying his memory.”
“Assume that there is a Heaven, Mari, and that Thomas is up there; how would you feel if another mother up there took him under her wing and cared for him.”
Pain flashed over her features but after a second, smoothed out into a smile. “All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, even if it can't be with me. I’d be glad that someone had his best interests at heart.”
“Because your son loved you, Mari,” Isabelle reminded her. “Do you honestly think that he would be upset if you shared your love with another child? Do you think he likes the pain you feel now?”
“No, of course not.”
“He would want you to be happy, don’t you think?”
“It’s not that easy,” Damaris declared, silent tears still running over her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Even the longest of journeys begin with a single step. Decide to allow yourself to love again, my dear, and start doing small things to open up your heart to those around you.”
“How?”
“Well, trust is vital in all types of relationship, so you could try telling someone a secret, every day. You can start small, perhaps you stole an extra cinnamon bun at Christmas one year, then gradually work up to the important secrets.”
Damaris took her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m starting to see where Nate gets his insight from, you’re very wise.”
Isabelle looked surprised by her words. “Thank you, Mari, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me.”
They shared a smile and on impulse, Isabelle wrapped her arms around Damaris and held her for a moment. When she pulled away, she put one hand on the side of Damaris’ head; her thumb gently stroking her cheek.
“I would have been happy with any choice of bride that Nate made, as long as he loved her but I’m thrilled to know that he has chosen someone I can love also.”
Damaris’ eyes widened in either shock or fear, Isabelle wasn’t sure which.
“Now, now, you’re not an idiot, you know how he feels about you, child.”
“I… I know he cares for me but… marriage?”
Isabell removed her hand from Damaris’ face and took her hand instead.
“It’s a big step, I know. Even for those of us who haven’t suffered the pain of loss, it’s a daunting prospect, a choice you must live with for the rest of your life but try not to worry too soon.”
“Too soon?” Damaris looked puzzled.
“He hasn’t even asked you yet. Has he?”
“Well, no.” Damaris gave her a sheepish smile. “And…” she paused and took a deep breath. “I care very deeply for him also. I tried not to, I tried to see him only as a friend but I can't help it.”
Isabelle gave her a warm smile. “As much as it pleases me to hear you say that, I think that perhaps you should tell Nate as well.”
Damaris looked frightened for a moment but quickly seemed to get herself under control again.
“You’re right, of course. Thank you, Isabelle.”
“It was my pleasure, my dear. Now, what are we going to do about Ella?”
Damaris’ happiness fled in an instant as she thought of the girl’s suffering. “What do you want me to do about her?”
“What do you want to do with her?” Isabelle asked.
Damaris remained silent for a few moments and bit down on her lower lip as she thought.
“What I want to do is bring her home with me and cuddle and kiss her, read to her each night and tuck her into bed.”
“You want to mother her?”
“Yes.” She bowed her head. “I know it’s a foolish notion-”
“Not at all!” Isabelle cut her off. “She is still young enough that she will soon adapt to the aristocratic life.”
“But what if I do marry your son? We will have our own children.”
“I’m sure you will, but that doesn’t preclude you taking in another child.”
“Will he want to raise someone else’s child?”
“I dare say the girl will capture his heart, just as she did yours.”
“But…” she was quickly running out of objections. “Well, with this investigation, I won’t have much time to look after her.”
“Annabelle, Matthew and I can cope.”
“Matthew?”
“It’ll do him good, help prepare him for his own family. And don’t forget, we have a house full of servants to call on should we get into any bother.”
“I can't impose on you like that.”
“Nonsense. It’s been far too long since we heard the patter of tiny feet around here and it’s about time one of my children gave me a grandchild.” She sounded miffed but the smile on her lips said that she was only teasing. “Until then, I will just have to make do by spoiling the ward of my future daughter-in-law.” She looked exceptionally pleased with herself.
“Now you’re just trying to make me feel guilty,” Damaris argued,
although her own sly smile said that she knew exactly what Isabelle had done, not only reassuring Damaris that she wouldn’t burden Isabelle but even making it seem as if she was doing Isabelle the favour.
“Is it working?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop the grin that formed on her lips.
“So, when are you going to collect her?”
“Collect her!”
Isabelle almost laughed as her happiness instantly changed to shock; imagining and agreeing to something was one thing, but facing the reality could be daunting.
“I suggest you collect her tomorrow, after your friend has visited; that will give me time to have the nursery readied, then I can go into town in the morning and purchase some more clothes and other necessities for her.
“Yes.” Damaris swallowed down her fear. “Yes, that sounds sensible.”
“Good. Now, there’s just time for you to tell Nate before you change for dinner.” Isabelle kissed Damaris on the cheek and quickly left the room, before Damaris could change her mind.
Chapter Eighteen
Nate was out in the stables, petting Casabian and feeding him carrots. He’d had the horse since he was a yearling and had schooled him. Standing over sixteen hands tall and pure black, save for a small white star between his eyes, he was an imposing horse at first glance but he had a gentle temperament, on the whole.
He was stroking the velvet soft skin between Casabian’s nostrils, when he heard the footsteps approaching and when he turned, he was surprised to see Damaris. She was dressed for dinner in a very fine, lilac gown; not something generally worn to the stables.
The sun was setting, lending what light there was a warm, orange tinge.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said as she approached.
“I needed to be alone for a while; clear my thoughts.”
“Your mother came to see me,” she began. “You talked about me.”
‘And didn’t say nice things,’ he silently finished what he imagined her thoughts to be.
“We weren’t being unkind,” he told her. “We were- we are worried about you.”
“You think I’m cold and unfeeling,” Damaris stated. She began to walk around the stable, keeping her eyes on the stalls so she could avoid his gaze. Her movements and their voices drew more horses to their doors to watch.
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