by Abby Ayles
For a few moments, Jackie pulled out bits of dough, rolling them into balls and lining them up. As she went, some were big, others too small. Soon, she ran out of dough before completing the task. She sighed in disappointment.
“It was a very noble effort,” Mrs. Frederickson encouraged. “But I have a better plan. Gather the dough all back up into one.”
Jackie did as she was bid.
“Now, we are going to roll it out into a large square,” Mrs. Frederickson said doing the work with the skill of a professional.
“You could try it your way, of picking and guessing if it’s enough, or we could divide the dough out evenly.”
Mrs. Frederickson returned with a knife and cut the dough equally in half.
“You see this way, every time we cut it, all the pieces get equally smaller until we have the number we want.”
Later that evening, just before supper, Jaqueline presented a plate of perfectly equal Shrewsbury cakes to Mrs. Murray for tasting.
“I dinna ken what looks better to eat, the biscuit or you,” Mrs. Murray said, brushing some flour from Jackie's cheek with her handkerchief.
“The biscuits, Nursie, you must try the biscuits!” Jackie replied, bursting with excitement.
Chapter 30
Isabella was utterly enjoying her time with her ward and could not even imagine a time without her. With the onset of fall and change into winter, the days got shorter and darker. It confined the pupil to the schoolroom more, but Isabella was finding more and more ways to excite the child. With this came more regular visits to Mrs. Frederickson for lessons in the kitchen.
Isabella also afforded herself more liberties, taking her ward to the main part of the house to pick out more books or show her embroidery samples in the drawing room. Isabella had no more fear of Lady Lydia’s threats.
Lady Lydia must have also sensed the change in Isabella's demeanor because she no longer found opportunities to flash the clipping at her during their few encounters.
Instead, Lady Lydia put all her efforts into receiving some affection from Lord Bellfourd before her departure. She played the piano, sang songs, and even started to dote on Jaqueline, in the hope of winning over the marquess’ heart.
Jackie didn’t hold Lady Lydia in very high regard. Up until this point of their visit, all Lady Lydia seemed to do was complain about the child’s presence. Now that she was desperate to secure affection, she completely turned a new leaf and treated Jaqueline like she was a precious child to her.
She had a way of speaking to Jackie, in a very high voice, and in the tone that one might use for an infant, that was quite vexing to the ears.
Isabella did her best to encourage Jackie to endure it as politely as possible. She also had to remind Jackie that speaking her mind in French, as she often did in the presence of Mrs. Peterson, would not be a good idea as Lady Lydia was fluent in the language.
Though Isabella had developed maternal instincts toward Jackie, she had to admit she much preferred the new treatment from Lady Lydia than what she had shown in the past.
Despite what she hoped Lord Bellfourd had meant on their walk from town, Lady Lydia was still a genuine possibility for his wife. If nothing else, Isabella felt security in knowing that if their marriage happened, Lydia would have to be kind to the child.
Isabella couldn’t help but also be satisfied in the fact that Lady Lydia had apparently given up all attempts to soil her reputation.
The real reason for Lady Lydia’s easing of her threats, however, came a few days before Lady Cunningham and her daughter were set to return to their own estate. It came in the form of a letter with no return address.
Isabella puzzled over the handwriting, which she did not recognize, as she made her way back up to her room.
Isabella,
You think there is any place in His Majesties Empire that you could run, and I not find you?
I have found you. You will regret the day that you denied me.
It was not signed, but it didn’t have to be. Isabella’s blood ran cold. Mr. Smith knew where she was. What lengths would he go to ensure her destruction?
Before she could dip into sorrow, she instead flashed with rage. There was only one reason that she would receive such a horrid threat and have lessened pressure from Lady Lydia.
She marched downstairs without a thought, letter in hand. She found Her Grace, Lady Abigail, Lady Cunningham, and the awful Lady Lydia all seated in the small drawing room taking their afternoon tea.
“Please forgive my intrusion,” Isabella said, doing her best to hide her rage behind a smile. “I was wondering if I could steal a moment with Lady Lydia.”
All eyes looked on in confusion. It wasn’t a secret to any in that room that Lady Lydia disliked Isabella. In fact, she had been very vocal of that fact over the course of her visit.
“I have a letter,” Isabella held up for all to see, "from Mrs. Mason.”
Isabella steadied her breath, doing her best to tell the fib.
"I have been writing to her regularly. When I told her Lady Lydia was here, she added a nice message for her at the end of the letter.”
“Oh, how very thoughtful of Mrs. Mason,” Lady Cunningham said none the wiser to the real content of the parchment.
Lady Lydia had no choice but to excuse herself from the room and follow Isabella into the privacy of the morning room.
“How dare you,” Isabella started, not caring about the repercussions of rude behavior anymore. “You wrote to Mr. Smith. You gave him the address of my employment.”
Isabella threw the threatening letter on the table in front of Lady Lydia. For such a hostile situation, Lady Lydia stood perfectly calm, arms folded in front of her mint morning dress, a slight smile on her thin lips.
“Of course I wrote to him.” Lady Lydia finally said. “Did you actually suppose that I would allow you to work here, to poison Lord Bellfourd against me, and take away everything I rightfully deserved yet again?”
“We are not children anymore, Lydia,” Isabella said exasperatedly. She struggled to keep her voice low. “I took nothing from you then, and I will take nothing from you now.”
“You have cost me my position,” Isabella went on, willing Lady Lydia to understand the seriousness of her act. “He will, no doubt, write to the duke. When Lord Bellfourd reads that letter in his stead…”
“You will be unemployed. Yes, I am well aware of what I did,” she responded coolly as if the conversation was now boring her.
“This is my livelihood. Without this position, or at the very least, a reference, I will have no hope of securing another. I have no other means to support myself.”
“How very unfortunate for you. Perhaps, instead of spending your earnings on frivolous dresses and sweets, you should have considered that the time would come when all your evil doings caught up with you.”
“Evil doings? You have no idea what that man asked of me.” Isabella took a steadying breath. “I admit it was wrong to take the locket when he owned all my father had, but it was just a necklace. It was of no worth to him except for the mere fact that it mattered to me.”
Isabella held the empty place on her collarbone where the treasure once lay.
“As I said, most unfortunate for you. Now if you don’t mind, I will return to my happy company. I do not feel comfortable being tangled in yet another one of your lies.”
She picked the short letter up and looked it over. She tisked once, before letting the letter fall back to the table. “Mrs. Mason, indeed.” She turned and left the room before another utterance could be mustered.
Isabella paced the floor a few times, willing herself to calm down before she did something absolutely radical.
She thought of something her father had told her as a child, ‘though your hair be as cool as night with no moonlight, your head can be as hot as the sun itself.’
She stood still, closing her eyes, and breathed deeply. There was nothing to do about it now. If Mr. Smith chose t
o write to her employer, Lord Bellfourd would be the one to receive it.
She had already told Lord Bellfourd some of the issues attached to the man, so she had to hope he would at least give her time to explain. He would understand. All would be right in the end.
Unfortunately, things do not always go to plan, as was the case for Isabella. Before the week's end, she received three more threatening letters from Mr. Smith. Each one became angrier and coarser than the last.
The land froze much earlier than expected, and Lady Cunningham was forced to extend her stay several weeks past her expected departure due to the dangerous roads. Isabella would have to remain in the presence of Lady Lydia for a longer period of time. Even worse, Isabella feared that with the early turning from autumn to winter, she would be forced to endure the whole holiday season in Lady Lydia’s presence.
As Isabella dreaded every letter now delivered to her and placed in the servant dining hall basket, Lady Lydia waited with bated breath for a letter to arrive addressed to the duke.
She was certain now that she had secured all that was rightly hers. She wouldn’t allow Isabella outshine her again.
Dear Isabella,
I must admit that I am very concerned for you after your last letter. Of course, we both knew the deceit that lay hidden within Lady Lydia, but this is a most unbecoming course, even for her.
As for the letters you have told me about from Mr. Smith, I am very worried for your safety. It sounds like he may truly wish you harm.
I know you must find the protection of your distance in your favor, but what if it is not? Certainly, Mr. Smith has the means to travel. What if he was to come to Wintercrest?
I know that you are concerned that Lord Bellfourd might think less of your character if you discuss the whole matter with him, but as your friend, I must encourage you to do so, despite your fears.
From the short time that I was acquainted with him, as well as what you have told me during our correspondence, I believe he is a very understanding gentleman. He will see your side of the situation, and could perhaps aid you.
I know that you talk as if the letters and threats do not affect you, but I know your tender heart. To be subject to such horrid things, falsely accused, to endure such bereavement would be hard on anyone.
I beg you to relieve yourself of the burden you have carried alone. Seek comfort in the friendship of those around you. Hold tight till Lady Lydia is removed from your presence. Most of all know that I think of you and pray for your wellbeing each night.
Wishing you safety and love,
Louisa
Chapter 31
Isabella considered her friend's advice. Certainly, if this situation had occurred at Rosewater House, she would have gone straight to Louisa for help. Though she found sense in what Louisa suggested, she also couldn’t overcome her fear of lessening her character in any of the household members’ eyes.
And still, if she went to the marquess now, Lady Lydia was bound to find out about it. She would only use it to fuel malice and dislike from the duchess and maybe even Lady Abigail.
Isabella couldn’t risk that chance. She cared too dearly for both ladies to lose their friendship. Once Lady Lydia was away from Wintercrest Manor, she would go to Lord Bellfourd and lay all her past events and their reciprocations at his feet for judgment.
All thoughts of herself and her own problems melted away as the duke’s health declined drastically with the onset of winter weather. It was a mere two weeks after Isabella received her first threatening letter that the doctor came to visit one last time.
Though the doctor had attempted every treatment in his power, he feared that the sickness along with a possible punctured lung had been too much for the duke to recover from. He very apologetically told the family that the duke would most likely not last the night. The family gathered in the library that evening, just a doorway apart from their patriarch.
The room was clothed in dark veils and silent sorrows unspoken. Isabella was present at the side of Jackie. Each member of the family was waiting for a chance to say their final goodbye.
The duke struggled to breathe, could eat almost nothing, and could scarcely utter a few words. None the less, he desired to give his family members final words of wisdom.
Lady Wintercrest stayed by her husband’s side through it all, gently holding his weak hand. All other family members and guests waited in the drawing room to be called in one by one.
First was Lady Abigail. She spent half an hour with her father before returning to the library very upset. Lady Cunningham, in her motherly wisdom, held Lady Abigail in her arms and let her cry.
Lord Bellfourd was next. Isabella felt sure that he would return from the room not the sorrowed, confused heir with no desire for his title, but the man she knew he could be.
He spent several hours at his father’s side before returning to the library. The whole party waited in silence, though little Jackie had fallen asleep in her governess’ lap from the lateness of the hour. Lord Bellfourd came from the room, his eyes swollen and red, and made his way straight to Isabella.
He reached down and lifted Jaqueline into his arms. She barely woke at the touch. He easily hoisted the limp body onto his shoulder and reached down with his hand to take Isabella’s.
She took it immediately, without thought, and stood at his side, not sure what he wanted of her.
“He is nearing the end now,” Lord Bellfourd said. “I want him to say goodbye to Jaqueline.”
He walked the two girls into the room, looking over his shoulder only once to make sure that Lady Abigail was also following. She had already risen and come to his side.
Isabella noticed the specific words he used. Lord Bellfourd wanted the duke to say goodbye. Presumably, that meant the duke had no desire to see his only grandchild, even on death's door.
“May I be of assistance?” Lady Lydia said, standing.
“No, thank you, Father would like to be surrounded by just family,” Lord Bellfourd responded before taking the groggy Jackie in his arms and the two ladies trailing behind him.
Isabella did her best to ignore Lady Lydia’s eyes falling on her with evil intent. She was almost certain that repercussions would come from this moment, but cared naught for it.
When they came into the room, it was hard to see. Only the glow of the fire lit the room. Lady Wintercrest sat in a chair, handkerchief continuously dabbing at stray tears.
The duchess was exhausted from the hours at her husband’s side. Strands of her hair had fallen all directions, some glinting silver in the firelight. Though she was aged and with grown children, she still felt much too young to be widowed.
The duke was seated in his bed with several pillows. Even in the few, short weeks since Isabella had seen him last, he had aged and wasted away drastically. It looked as if the cushions around him were more to keep him in place then to merely prop him to a seated position. Isabella feared that at any moment his frail body might topple over.
Each breath was a struggle for him to take. Even from across the room, Isabella could hear the gurgling sound of liquid as he struggled to pull in more air. His face was drawn in deep creases. The once somber wrinkles of his face now hung without the flesh beneath. Even his face looked as though it was struggling to keep upright.
Jackie finally sat up in her uncle’s arms, rubbing her eyes. Isabella reached out and took the child into her own arms. Lord Bellfourd and Lady Abigail stood on the opposite side of the bed from their mother. Isabella stood back with Jackie in her arms and gave the family their privacy.
The duke could do nothing but move his eyes and watch his family gather around him. Worse, Isabella could see his mind working and, no doubt, the desires of his heart struggled to be free. It was more than he was able to handle in his weakened state. It left him nothing to do but look on as his family cried before him.
Lord Bellfourd turned and searched the room for Isabella and Jackie. “Come here,” he called softly. “Bring Jac
kie before him.”
Isabella did as she was bid and brought the child forward. Lord Bellfourd stood to the side, giving up his spot at his father’s right hand to be replaced by his niece.
Isabella stood behind her ward, ready to assist in any way possible. She could only imagine how confusing and frightening this night must have been to such a young child. Jaqueline gripped both of her governess’ hands firmly, a little taken aback by the state of her grandfather.
Isabella knelt down, still holding firmly to each of Jackie’s hands and whispered in her ear in French, “It’s all right, little one. Tell your grandfather how much you love him.”
Big droplets of tears welled in Jaqueline’s eyes. She didn’t understand much of what death meant, but she did know it was a sort of going away, and a very sad departure at that.
“I said the Lord’s Prayer just for you, Grandpère,” Jaqueline said, just above a whisper.
Though he was much too weak to move or speak, the duke’s eyes lowered to the face of his granddaughter. His lips, slightly tinged blue, turned up into a wavering smile and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
He struggled to move his one free hand. The marquess reached forward, helping his father to place his hand into Jaqueline’s.
Isabella did her best to choke back her own tears. Even if this unity of grandfather and child was of the marquess’ making, the duke was glad of it. Through the glow of the fire, Isabella could easily see the love and words never spoken in the gleam of the duke’s eyes.
“Why is he so cold?” she whispered to her governess in French.
“Perhaps he needs you to warm them,” Isabella whispered back, not wanting to tell the child the true reason why.
“I will warm your hand for you Grandpère,” Jaqueline said, rubbing her two small hands over the larger, colder one.
The whole family watched as the two small palms, still slightly plump from infancy, gently rubbed the long, wrinkled fingers already beginning to grey.
“Jackie,” Lady Wintercrest’s voice came out hoarsely from the other side of the bed. “Sing for your grandfather, so that he may fall asleep peacefully.” She did her best to smile at the child, despite her tears.