“And does Elliot still join you in here? Does he still accompany you on his violin as he did on the night you wrote to me?”
“Every night. I come down straight after dinner and light the candles.” She pointed vaguely to the candelabra. “And I begin to play. Within a matter of minutes, Elliot joins me. It has become quite a ritual of ours.”
“So, you have not had your two hours per evening in the drawing room?”
“No, we seem to have gravitated quite naturally towards the library. And we have not yet retired before midnight since we have been playing music.”
“Oh, that sounds so romantic.”
“Romantic?” Isabella said and wondered if it really was.
She had to admit, she looked forward to the evenings all day and could not wait to have her evening meal done with so that she could return to the library. The library seemed a very different place in the evening. It was nice in the daytime as she played but felt very different in the evening when she shared the space with Elliot.
“Yes. It sounds that way to me. But do you still take your meals alone?”
“Yes, I do. I come down to the breakfast room in the mornings, and I take afternoon tea in the drawing room. But in the evening, I take my meal in my own room. The dining room here is so large, and I must admit that to eat there alone makes me feel sad. Well, isolated and lonely, I suppose.”
“But you do not take any of your meals with the Duke?”
“No. I suppose it is simply an issue of lighting. Even here in the library at night, the only real light is cast over the piano. If Elliot takes his seat by the fire, I can just make out his outline. And if we are playing, he tends to stand behind me where I sit at the piano.”
“So, you do not routinely see his face?”
“No, he still hides it from me. He has a very practiced way of moving about, and even when he walks me to the foot of the stairs at the end of the evening, he always stands in a way that I can only see the handsome side of his face.”
“So, he is handsome, then?” Esme said a little excitedly.
“Oh yes, he is very handsome,”Isabella said cautiously. “Older than us, Esme, but he certainly still looks young. His hair is a nice ashen brown, and his eyes are such a wonderful shade of green.”
“So, you would be able to look upon his face fully, now that you have come to know him better? Now that you have come to care for him?”
“I do not know,” Isabella said and felt ashamed. “I cannot say for certain since I have only ever really looked upon him twice. Once on our wedding day and once, albeit briefly, when our paths crossed in the woodland.”
“But if you are keen to take him out into the world, to free him from his prison as you put it, would it not be best to show him that you of all people can look at him with ease? That would be the sensible first step, would it not?”
“Oh yes, of course. You have it exactly. I knew you would be able to help me, Esme.” Isabella smiled. “I should make that the first part of my plan.”
“Indeed. But I cannot think it will be a simple thing if the Duke is intent and well-practiced in hiding his face from you. From your letters, it would seem he goes to a lot of trouble to stay in the shadows. You will have to find some way to draw him out.”
“Yes, I shall.” Isabella chewed at her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I shall start this very evening and see how I get on. And perhaps Kitty will have some advice for me on how it is to be achieved. After all, Elliot does not choose to hide his face from either Kitty or Crawford Maguire. He must be more comfortable with them,” she ended a little sadly.
“Yes, but only because he has known them for a lot longer. He will become comfortable with you also once you come to know each other better. You have made great progress already, have you not? He is already choosing to spend more time in your company in the evenings. That must surely count for something.”
“I suppose it must, especially after the dreadful incident with the doll. I never thought that I would see him again. I daresay it sounds silly, but I had thought that Elliot would easily hide out from me in this great mansion for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh, my dear Isabella,” Esme said and reached out to take her hand. “You really do care for him, do you not?”
“Yes, I do care for him. But I do not yet know if it is because I should otherwise be so lonely here. I have found it very difficult to get to the bottom of my own feelings for him without the memory of that first day in the chapel coming back to haunt me. I know that he is a good man, a man to whom I find myself attracted on account of his character alone. But I do not yet trust myself that I could look upon him fully and feel the same way. I do not yet know if I am a person of character, or if I am as shallow as so many others are.”
“But you did not care for the idea that you would live without him if he hid away,” Esme said rationally.
“But was that because I missed him or because I missed company, any company?”
“I suppose, in the end, that is only something you can answer yourself.”
“And yet I cannot seem to answer it.”
“It strikes me that the business with the doll was a crisis point between you. But perhaps it was not crisis enough for you to be able to decide your real feelings for the Duke. Perhaps another matter will present itself in time, one which will test you properly, one in which you will know the feelings of your own heart without a doubt.”
“But what if such a crisis never comes? And should I not be afraid of crises?”
“They are not always for the worse, are they? Just think, a great crisis was brought on when you removed the doll from the tower. And now you and the Duke spend longer in each other’s company and have come to share your joy of music. If you had not taken the doll and the crisis had not been created, you might still be enjoying no more than two hours in the evening in the drawing room. So, you see, sometimes a crisis is something which simply moves us from one point in time to the next. It is a catalyst that can often put us on the right path.”
“You do have such a wonderfully clever way of looking at things, Esme,” Isabella said in quiet awe. “But really, what if a crisis of the nature you describe never comes? Am I to simply spend the rest of my life wondering?”
“No, you then take matters into your own hands,” Esme said with a confident nod. “And you are taking matters into your own hands already, are you not? You have determined to help your husband back to the world outside, and you have already determined that you must grow used to his appearance before you can expect others to do the same. Given time, once you find yourself able to look upon the Duke, even to forget what you see before you as Kitty and Mr. Maguire seem to have done, then I think you will find it very much easier to explore your own feelings. Away from the fear of your own reaction, the fear of hurting his feelings, I think you will come to know your own heart very simply.”
“So, I am to await a crisis but, in the meantime, I am to work at spending time with my husband and looking upon his face. Well, I cannot tell you how helpful you have been to me today, Esme. You always find the details that I seem to struggle to discover.”
“Sometimes you just need to say it all out loud. I think when you talk about things, solutions present themselves. When you just think about them, the only things that present themselves are further problems.” Esme chuckled.
“Oh, how I have missed you.”
“And I have missed you.” They embraced again. “And now, do take me outside so I can have a look at the wonderful little walled gardens you were telling me about. And the roses, I should like to see the roses.”
“Yes, of course.” Once again, Isabella took Esme’s arm and guided her out through the main entrance and into the grounds. “There are one or two walled gardens that are a real treat. I often sit in them to read and find that I have perfect privacy if I wish for it.
“Are the walled gardens near the woodland?” Esme said with some trepidation when she realised that Isa
bella was turning her towards the back of the estate.
“They are on the way to the woodland, but they are not too close.” Isabella turned to look at her. “Esme, are you alright? Has something upset you?”
“You will think me silly, Isabella, but I must admit that I am a little afraid of the tower. I would go anywhere with you, my dear, except there. I do not think I could manage it. It is all too sad.”
“No, of course.” Isabella gripped her hands tightly. “No, I should not walk you through to the tower. It is such a sad place, so very tragic. No, our time together here must always be filled with happiness and laughter. There is enough sadness, and there is more than enough room for it without it encroaching upon our time.”
“How kind of you not to be angry with me,” Esme said with a smile.
“Not at all. If I had been better informed about the tower before I set off myself, I should never have gone to that place. And now that the doll is returned, I cannot imagine that I would ever return either.”
“I must admit myself relieved to have this particular conversation out of the way. It was the only thing that had worried me in all of this.”
“Even more than happening upon my husband, coming face-to-face with the monster?” Isabella asked quietly.
“But the monster does not exist anymore,” Esme said with a laugh. “And from the moment I received your first letter, my dear, I knew that the monster had never truly existed in the first place. I am not afraid to meet the Duke of Coldwell, Isabella. In fact, I should very much like to meet the man who married my finest friend on this earth. After all, we always said that no husbands could separate us. Would it not be simpler in the end if I could come to know the Duke also, even make a friend of him?”
“You really are so very brave, Esme. And your kindness is very much in danger of reducing me to tears,” Isabella said and hurriedly dabbed at the corner of her eye. “But do you really think that you would not be afraid to meet him?”
“No, not at all.” Esme seemed quietly confident, and Isabella knew that her friend was not simply putting on a brave front.
She meant every word; that much was clear. It seemed to Isabella at that moment that Esme had come to terms with the silly tales of the monster in his castle much sooner than she herself had done. Perhaps, with Esme’s example, Isabella would soon come to do the same. And perhaps, with Esme’s help, it might be easier than she thought.
“And if you would like to put me forward as one of the first people to meet your husband when he begins to come out into the world again, you may do so. I would be very glad to meet the Duke, either here at Coldwell Hall or in my own drawing room for afternoon tea. You must let me know when he is ready because the moment he is, I shall be ready also.”
“Oh, Esme, how glad I am that I finally found the courage to invite you here. I cannot tell you what this means to me. Not just the help you have given me today, but the kindness you have shown towards a man you have yet to meet. You are a lesson to us all, Esme Montague, and a lesson for the good.”
“What a lovely thing to say,” Esme said in a cheerful, matter-of-fact tone. “Now then, let me see these walled gardens before it is time for tea.”
Chapter 23
Isabella had waited several days for the opportunity to happen upon her husband in daylight. She knew that he must, at some point, make his way to the little tower in the woodlands once again. It was his habit, and she could not imagine him breaking it very easily, even though he had said it was time to let it be, or knock it down.
Isabella had hovered in her own chamber day after day so that she might have the best view of the little pathway into the woods. She sat in her window hour after hour, hardly daring to let her attention wander in case she missed him.
More than once, she had peered back into the room and then hurriedly turned back to look out of the window, wondering if Elliot had managed to evade her notice at the moment her concentration had lapsed.
She had seen him every evening in the library, without fail, but had never quite found the courage to ask him if he had visited the tower lately or if he intended to. In truth, she still did not dare ask him what it was that he did with his days and where he spent his time since she never accidentally found herself in his company.
In the end, she had simply had to rely on a steady observation of the only place she had ever seen him apart from the drawing room and the library.
And, when she finally saw him slowly walking towards the woodland from her window, Isabella exclaimed loudly in excitement.
She hastily gathered up the shawl that she had left ready and waiting for just such an opportunity, and tore out of the room and down the stairs.
She was relieved not to have encountered any of the servants along the way, lest they make any inquiry and hinder her progress. By the time she had reached the woodland itself, Isabella was already out of breath from her speedy exertions.
She walked so quickly she was almost running in a bid to catch up with him, although he seemed already to be out of sight. He would undoubtedly already be in the tower by the time she reached it, and she knew that she would have to, once more, enter that building whether she wanted to or not.
And, sure enough, when she reached the tower, she could see that the door was ajar. Elliot was already inside.
She peered in and knew instantly that he was up on the next floor, standing in the room where his mother and sister had perished eighteen years before.
“Elliot?” she called out softly so as not to startle him. “Elliot, are you in here?”
For a moment, there was silence. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the floor above.
“Isabella?” he called down quizzically. “Isabella, is that you?”
“It is, Elliot,” she called gently. “May I come up? May I speak with you for a moment?”
“Well… Yes, of course.” She winced as she heard the uncertainty in his voice.
Isabella hurriedly made her way inside and up the stairs before Elliot had a chance to change his mind. But still, she gave him opportunity enough to arrange his position, as he always did. As much as she wanted to make looking upon him normal, she did not want to charge into it, acting boorishly and in a manner that would see him turning away from her again.
“Forgive me, Elliot, I saw you from afar making your way into the woods, and I thought to join you. I hope that you do not mind.”
“No, not at all,” he said, but she did not think he sounded entirely convincing.
“Do you walk a great deal around the estate, Elliot?” Isabella could feel her conversation was a little stunted, almost as if they had not known each other for long, or were meeting for the first time.
“Yes, I try to walk the perimeter of the estate every week. It is a vast area to cover, but I usually manage it. I suppose I spend a good deal of my time out of doors.”
“But I never see you anywhere, Elliot,” she said quietly, feeling a little awkward.
“No, I suppose not. But I am more out and about on the further reaches of the estate, rather than the walled gardens and lawns and what have you. The whole estate is many miles across.”
“Yes, I suppose so. But please, do you keep out of the house and away from the gardens to keep away from me?”
“No, not at all,” he answered a little too quickly for her liking.
“Because if you do, there really is no need.” Even as she spoke, Isabella could see him conscious at every moment that she should not see his face.
“I suppose the truth of it, Isabella, is that I am a good deal more comfortable conversing in the evening. Truly, it is nothing that you have done, and there is nothing at all for you to worry about. I am just more comfortable that way, and that is all.” He shrugged and tried to appear at ease when it was clear he was not.
Moving infinitesimally, Isabella tried to work her way through the room so that she might be face-to-face with him. But every time she took the tiniest of steps, Ellio
t countered with one of his own, leaving them in the same position as before.
“But do you not feel lonely in the daytime?” she tried again.
“I do not know. Perhaps I am just used to my own company, Isabella.” He peered down at the floor for a moment. “Do you feel lonely in the daytime?”
“Yes, sometimes I do,” Isabella spoke quietly and studied what she could see of his face.
She had never seen a face more handsome than his and wished that the other side was equally as handsome. If only fate had not been so unkind; and if only she did not have to test herself in such a way.
“But your afternoon tea with Miss Montague went well, did it not? And you may invite her here to Coldwell Hall as much as you choose.”
A Beauty for the Scarred Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 18