by Sy Walker
“There you are!” Isabelle turned to see Nan running down the path toward her. “Why are you out here?” The matron looked positively stricken. Isabelle came back to reality and was freezing in the woods once again. She wanted to raise her arms and stop Nan from fussing at her, but it was of no use. Her body was too slow to fight off the grey-haired woman.
“I wanted to go for a walk,” Isabelle lied, although she wasn’t sure why. “I needed to clear my head after the ball, and I lost track of time.” Isabelle refused to look Nan in the eyes. The older woman knew Isabelle better than she knew herself. Nan’s kind, honey-brown eyes had a way of pulling the truth out of even the most resilient of souls.
As Nan helped Isabelle to her feet, the young woman could help, but think of Edmund again. The boy who had played soldier so many times in these very woods. Isabelle had watched her friend lead a hundred cavalry charges from that very spot. “Who escorted you home last night?” Isabelle told her matron that she didn’t know, but she did remember who had taken her arm and led her from the colonel’s house.
It was like being under a spell. He was talking of war, and yet, Isabelle could not turn away. She was not alone, Edmund had taken a hold of the room. Everyone wanted to hear more about his time in Crimea. “I heard you were injured at the Battle of Waterloo?” The colonel shouted over the excited chattering of his guests. Edmund gave the onlookers his patented shy smile.
“Yes, it all sounds very glorious,” Edmund seemed almost proud. “I was shot, but it mainly hit my uniform. Still hurt like the dickens.” The colonel nodded approvingly, as if he understood what war was all about. The rest of the admirers laughed along with Edmund. Isabelle could feel herself being drawn to her childhood friend. It seemed to her like the whole party was under the same spell.
“That must have been amazing,” Raglan was stroking his pointed beard. “Two lines, armed only with rifles against a cavalry charge, remarkable. I assume that is where you sustained your injury.”
Edmund laughed, “No the heavy horse never got near us, that would have made a much better story.” Colonel Raglan seemed disappointed Edmund had not found himself under the heel of a French war horse. “I was eating my breakfast when a mule reared up and kicked a barrel. A nervous young private, he was pale as a ghost, and he had already sweat through his uniform.” Edmund started to shake in imitation of the young private. “As soon as he heard the sound he dropped his old Brown Bess and the old girl let out a thunderous crack.” Raglan seemed very upset.
“What is happening in today’s army?” Raglan looked to the crowd for support. “I put it to you,” Raglan seemed to be addressing no one in particular. “The strength of the British Army comes down to the strength of its weakest soldiers.” Colonel Allister Raglan had never been to war, but he took a great deal of pride in his title. He had been in the Quartermaster Corp. overseeing the shipping and receiving of supplies for the army. He was a proud member of the army, but he knew nothing of the realities of war.
“I have a scar on my right thigh that agrees with you.” Edmund quipped. The mention of Edmund’s thigh was almost too much for Kitty to take. Isabelle had to pull her arm away for fear that her friend might break it. Isabelle gave Kitty a stern look. Kitty Raglan had never shown the proper propriety when it came to men.
“Ask him to see it,” Kitty whispered. The impetuous Miss Raglan loved to see Isabelle blush. Isabelle was always mindful of her behavior in public. Her father, Sir Thomas Bernard was a respected member of the Parish council, and a Baronet. Kitty’s father, the blustery Colonel Raglan, was the Parish council. As the richest man in town, he felt it was his right to push his agenda. Kitty took much the same approach to her social graces. As the girls giggled about the scar, Isabelle saw Edmund’s eyes find her in the crowd. She could feel the powerful gaze move right through her.
Then came a familiar tap against the floor. It was the silver handled walking stick Isabelle’s father carried. The handle was a very proud looking eagle perched on top of a globe. The Baronet had been wounded during Admiral Nelson’s Egyptian campaign. Isabelle tried to stifle her laughter as her father approached and she elbowed Kitty as well. Sir Thomas never yelled at his girls. In fact he rarely talked to them, but when he looked at Isabelle with disappointed eyes it hurt her to her very soul.
“Did you really meet Napoleon?” The silver-haired Sir Thomas had always been fascinated by the French dictator, after all he had lost the ability to walk properly fighting against him. In this instance though, Isabelle knew that her father was asking the question because he didn’t want people looking at his ill-behaved daughter. Kitty was always getting Isabelle into trouble.
“I was part of his escort to Saint Helene,” Edmund said, although he was not bragging, the crowd welcomed the comment great approval. Isabelle tried to maintain an air of indifference. She absolutely hated the fawning young women of Caddington. They were always tripping over themselves to catch the attention of this bachelor, or that soldier. Isabelle had once caught her younger sister Lysa and her best friend Alisa practicing their swooning. The older Miss Bernard had promised herself that she would never be one of those girls.
“Let me fix you a cup of tea,” Nan’s words brought Isabelle out of her stupor and back to the trail. Nan had been walking her closer to the house, but Isabelle had only realised now that she was even walking. She felt very lightheaded and weak. Leaning heavily on Nan, Isabelle made it all the way into the house.
“You’ve soiled your wrap,” Nan said as she took the garment from around Isabelle’s neck and went to fix the tea. Isabelle saw the spot that Nan had been pointing to. The young woman did not remember being cut. As she tried to remember how she had been left in the woods, Isabelle could feel a burning sensation on her neck. She raised one slender finger to the spot and she found a tiny mark, and one just below it.
Isabelle walked over to the large mirror that covered the North wall of the dining room. There were two puncture marks in her neck. Spaced a short distance a part, the marks appeared to be a bite of some kind. Isabelle was not sure why, but she immediately pulled the collar of Kitty’s cloak up. “Nan will just worry for no reason,” the young woman told herself. She took her curly blonde hair out of the once tight bun, it had suffered greatly through the night, as a secondary precaution in case Nan also took the cloak.
Isabelle had only had a sip of tea when Kitty was shown into the dining room by Athelstan, the Bernard family butler. “Miss Kitty Raglan,” Athelstan said with the outmost formality.
“I came to retrieve my cloak,” Kitty said trying to sound formal as Athelstan moved stiffly out of the room. When he was out of earshot Kitty charged at her friend, “Eeeeee!” Bursting with excitement, Kitty launched into a barrage of questions ending with, “Did he kiss you good night?”
“Well, where should I start?” Isabelle asked knowing the answer.
“The kiss!” Kitty boomed, “Always the kiss.”
“No, we did not kiss,” Isabelle felt certain that she would remember that. “But yes, I think I will be seeing him again.”
“What did your father say?” Kitty said forgetting her other questions and moving on. The question reminded the young Miss Bernard that she had yet to see her father. He would most certainly have something to say if he knew that Isabelle had spent the night lying in the forest.
“When are you seeing him again?” Kitty was too excited to wait for answers. Isabelle’s arm, which Kitty was clutching tightly, was still aching from the night before. It seemed that Kitty could not handle the sight or even the subject of Edmund Bellemorale without bruising Isabelle’s forearm.
“I don’t kno…” Isabelle was interrupted by her father’s entrance of the dining room. The girls rose quickly to acknowledge his presence, but the Baronet Bernard barely noticed their presence. He walked straight through to the kitchen door and demanded his regular breakfast of bacon and duck eggs. Kitty who had been kneeling in front of Isabelle before the arrival of the Baro
net took a seat beside her friend as Nan brought out the plates. They ate in silence.
Without looking up from his paper, and only after finishing his plate, Isabelle’s father calmly delivered some news. “Young Lieutenant Bellemorale will be joining us for dinner tonight.” Isabelle and Kitty exchanged excited glances. “His man dropped off a note, but I haven’t the foggiest where it could be.”
The girls shot out of their chairs again when the Baronet abruptly stood up and left the table. As soon as he cleared the doorway the girls spun and danced holding onto each other. Isabelle hated herself a little bit in that moment. She was not a swooning, marriage hungry girl, but she could not contain her excitement.
Isabelle pulled Kitty out of the kitchen and up to her room. Isabelle’s five sisters were slowly finding their way downstairs for breakfast. Kitty had never seen her friend act so mysteriously. She knew that there had to be some good gossip coming her way. Isabelle knew that Kitty was the first to tell a juicy anecdote, but she also knew that her friend could keep confidences for her.
“By yourself!” Kitty whisper shouted as Isabelle started to recount the evening. “How? Why?”
“I have no idea how I came to be there,” Isabelle was lying on the bed with her head in Kitty’s lap. Kitty was stroking her friend’s hair as she tried to process what she had heard. Edmund had sometimes played rough as a boy, but he was now a soldier and a gentleman. “He didn’t do anything to me I don’t think,” Isabelle said. She was not sure how to handle Kitty’s stunned silence. This was the first time Isabelle had encountered a topic that rendered Kitty speechless.
“Well, what did you do?”
“Nan found me and helped me back to the house.” Isabelle could sense the next question that was forming in Kitty’s mouth. “Father does not know.”
“Well, I am sure nothing happened,” Kitty said, although it sounded more like she was reassuring herself rather than comforting her friend. “You are unhurt, yes?” Isabelle showed Kitty the marks on her neck, but both girls agreed that they could have been anything. “A two-pronged branch that you fell on.” Kitty offered. Isabelle smiled, she wanted that to be the truth.
Kitty continued to play with Isabelle’s hair as she continued to think about Edmund and the strange circumstances of the last night, “You know, he is not staying with us,” Kitty’s voice was dripping with scandal. Edmund’s parents lived in London, but he had been raised at the Raglan estate. Edmund was a third cousin of Kitty’s and Edmund’s father did not believe that boys should be raised in the city. That of course was the official reason, it was no secret amongst the people of Caddington that Edmund’s parents had gone bankrupt.
“There are plenty of inns,” Isabelle offered. “He could easily be staying in there.” Isabelle could see that Kitty had more to say on the subject.
“Not a chance,” Kitty said, “He is much too refined.” Then Kitty added, “Besides I checked. He is not registered at any of the local inns.”
“There are several inns outside of town, if he has a carria…”
“He does have a carriage!” Kitty interrupted, “It is a fine black carriage drawn by black horses. The whole thing is sealed up like a fortress.” Kitty always seemed more alive when she had gossip, Isabelle loved to see the sparkle in her friend’s eyes as she delivered, what Isabelle called, ‘the daily reports.’
“Many carriages are black,” Isabelle failed to see the point of Kitty’s observation.
“It has no windows,” Kitty had a devilish look in her eyes. “That man has something to hide.”
“You would speak so ill of your cousin?” Isabelle sat up and faced Kitty.
“Yes,” Kitty smiled. “And so would you, if you weren’t in love with him.” Kitty started to make kissy noises at her friend. Isabelle hit Kitty, who had her eyes closed and mouth puckered kissing the air, with a pillow. “I am sorry,” Kitty feigned an apology.
“I don’t know what to do,” Isabelle confessed. “I fear that you are right. I have fallen madly in love with a man who would leave me lying in the woods.”
“We don’t know that,” Kitty grabbed her friend’s hand. “What do you remember of what happened last night?”
“I remember Edmund recounting his injury,” Isabelle was racking her brain. “I remember he asked me to dance.” Isabelle could see him standing before her as she thought about the night. Most of her memories of the night seemed very clear. Edmund had asked her to dance right after she had finished dancing with Victor Raglan, Kitty’s boorish, older brother.
The waltz was over much too soon for Isabelle. Edmund continued to twirl Isabelle even after the band had stopped. They moved right off the floor. “Would you like to get some air Miss Bernard?” Edmund had offered his arm and they walked out of the ballroom and onto a large stone balcony overlooking the gardens.
“He was taller than what you would think,” Edmund had told Isabelle when she asked of his time with Napoleon. “He was playing with fire.” Edmund was staring out over the gardens. “He tried to reorder our society, there was no way the noble families of Europe could let an up-jumped General change the status quo. Whether you are man, or beast.”
It was the last part that struck Isabelle the hardest. What could he have meant? Napoleon was clearly a man and not a beast. It was clear that this was not the same care free boy who had left Caddington to pursue a military career. Isabelle could see in Edmund’s eyes that he had seen and done things that had changed him. He had grown up fast in the wars. She wanted to know more, but she did not want to pester him either.
Isabelle’s grandfather had fought in the French and Indian wars. When 1st Baronet George Bernard came back from the New World he could not speak about his experiences. Isabelle had tried to talk to him about Indians and Americans, but it was no use. He would lock himself away. Isabelle wanted to help Edmund, but she didn’t want to see him push away from her. It was painful when it was her grandfather, a cold, distant man Isabelle barely knew, but Edmund had been a close friend.
“Did you get a chance to talk to him at all?” Isabelle asked. She had considered dropping the subject for a more cheery one, but in the end her curiosity got the better of her.
“We talked for hours after…” Edmund cut himself off, “I think the band is starting up again.” Isabelle held onto Edmund’s arm as he led her back into the house.
“You didn’t ask?” Kitty said as Isabelle finished her story. “After what?” Kitty was beside herself with curiosity. “Do you remember anything else?”
“The last thing was that we danced,” Isabelle started. “After the next dance I went to ask father if Edmund could escort me home.” Kitty was on the edge of her seat. “He was too drunk to even respond, so I kissed him on the cheek and we left.”
“So romantic,” Kitty said. Isabelle was not sure that she agreed, but she loved to see her friend’s reaction to the story. “Come on then.”
“What?” Isabelle was moving with her friend as they headed downstairs although she didn’t know why. “Why are we leaving?”
“We have to see what the town is saying.” Kitty dragged Isabelle out the door, before she could mount a protest.
The streets were fairly empty as the girls got out of the carriage. Lysa, Alayne, and Miranda had come with the older girls. They were always up for a trip uptown with Kitty. In truth the girls found their own sister very boring. Isabelle was not half the socialite Kitty was.
“Let’s find you something to wear tonight,” Kitty said as she grabbed Isabelle’s arm. As they walked to the store a pounding of hooves interrupted the calm of the morning. Kitty started smacking Isabelle on the shoulder to point out the black, windowless carriage that passed by. Isabelle had to admit that the carriage seemed ominous. “As if it belonged to the devil himself.” Kitty offered.
“And you want me to find a nice dress for him,” Isabelle quipped, “A new dress for dinner with the devil himself.”
“We need to make sure it is a warm dress,�
�� Kitty said as she started pulling Isabelle toward the store once more. “In case you take another walk.” Kitty laughed and put her head on Isabelle’s shoulder as they made their way down the street. Isabelle’s younger sisters in tow.
“Crimson,” was all that Isabelle had to say to get Kitty to put the first dress back. Kitty knew that her friend only wore white or yellow. Isabelle liked plain dresses and usually made her own. Lysa was the only one of the Bernard sisters who insisted on store bought dresses. Kitty continued to push for ruffles and lace, as she always did, but Isabelle would not be swayed.
“This is just the tiniest of ruffles,” Kitty held up a yellow flowing chemise gown. It was plain in every way, just a hint of embroidery along the slightly ruffled neckline. Kitty needed reinforcements, she could already see Isabelle’s head starting to shake. “Get behind me girls,” Kitty called out.
“What are you doing?” Isabelle wondered as her sisters got behind Kitty. Kitty was holding the dress in front of her like it was a weapon.
“It is a cavalry charge,” Kitty laughed. “We just have to run through your defences and you will be forced to try this dress.” Isabelle started to back away, but she was swarmed. Mr. Jeffery’s Linens & Cloth Shop was nearly empty, but the few onlookers still brought a healthy blush to Isabelle’s cheeks. Isabelle was distractedly trying to apologize to the bystanders when Kitty got the dress over her head. Isabelle tried to run, but she was caught. Kitty and the Bernard sisters landed in a heap, pulling down a pile of fabric and dish towels as they fell.
“Have you not finished embarrassing me?” Colonel Raglan’s voice was booming in from the doorway. All of the giggling died away under the weight of the colonel’s glare. He quickly turned and walked off down the street. The girls stood up and began folding the discarded linens and putting everything back the way it had been. Isabelle put her head on Kitty’s shoulder as they folded towels beside each other.