“I shall not attend,” I firmly announced while squirming in my seat. “You may apologize for my absence and make up some story about my being ill.”
Father rose, took a step forward, and towered above me. “You will go, young lady, and I shall hear nothing more of your complaining. We have made our wishes known, and I fully expect your compliance as long as you live under my roof.”
“Or what, you’ll kick me out?” I asked, jumping up to face him. My brash actions surprised me. As I glared back at my father, the nerves in my fingers tingled. Father shook his head at me in disappointment. Apparently, I had not returned as finished as he hoped.
“You exasperate me,” he growled. “You were born and bred to be a lady, yet you insist on acting like a child. This discussion is over.” He flung open the parlor door and stormed down the hallway. After he had left, I glanced over at Mother.
“I wouldn’t push your father, Isabella. He makes no veiled threats. If you disobey, you will pay for it dearly. Of that, I am sure.”
A hard knot grasped my stomach. Unable to reply, I merely spun around and left Mother with the tepid tea. Reginald had been quite right. Our affections would not be readily accepted by my parents. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to give up this easily.
There were two telephones in our household, one in my father’s study and the other in the parlor from where I had just left. Calling Reginald would be a challenge, but I intended to do so as soon as I could without my parents’ notice. The unfair situation angered me. Surely there had to be a way to follow my heart rather than a path chosen by my family. After all, this was the 1930s and not the Victorian era.
THE OPPORTUNITY TO call Reginald never arrived before our engagement. On the contrary, I felt as if the phones had been guarded because they anticipated my intentions. Before I could find the opportunity to speak with him, the evening of our dinner invitation arrived.
My parents and I barely exchanged a word the entire trip to Lord Ridley’s estate. Attempts to manipulate my life to their whims and desires only increased my waning affections for them further.
As the motorcar pulled up to the residence, I glanced at the massive stone edifice. Mother watched for my response, which I refused to give her by speaking of the grand manor house. Perhaps she thought I would be impressed and wish it to be mine one day. I had to admit it stirred my admiration, reminding me of a dangling carrot in front of my nose.
Upon our entrance into the foyer, Lord Ridley approached with a smile on his face and welcoming demeanor. At first he paid attention to my parents, no doubt showing his respect to stay on their good side. When he turned and glanced at me, I noted the glint of sincerity in his eyes.
“Lady Isabella, welcome.” His squeaky voice left much to be desired. When he glanced at my hand, I raised it, which he promptly took and gave it a peck upon my knuckles. I considered it old-fashioned rather than romantic as if I were ushered into some odd, dreamy novel, attempting to pull me into a story. Finally, after my jumbled thoughts had ceased, I spoke a weak, “Thank you.” Lord Ridley smirked as if he were up for the challenge.
“Dinner will be announced soon,” he said, gesturing toward the large sitting room off to the left.
As I followed him into the ostentatious surroundings, my eyes glanced back and forth at the décor. His manor was much like our dated residence, filled with relics of generations past and portraits of ancestors hanging on its walls. Mother had already advised me that he had inherited the estate upon his father’s passing a few years ago. It made me wonder how he survived alone, except for his staff, in the rambling empty hallways and rooms that encircled him daily.
As we sat for a few minutes before dinner, I desperately attempted to remain aloof. My eyes scanned my surroundings and successfully tuned out the conversation occurring between Lord Ridley and my father. My mother’s cold steel gaze could be felt from a few feet away. Nervously I fiddled with my dress skirt, smoothing out a wrinkle with my hand.
“And how are you enjoying your return home from the Continent?” Lord Ridley asked, pulling my attention toward him.
“Enjoyable,” I responded. One word had been the only thing I felt like saying.
“Could you elaborate?” he countered.
By the look in his eye and tone of his voice, he refused to let me off easily with a short response. I decided to give him an entire sentence. “Both France and Switzerland were beautiful in landscape and the locals tolerable and kind.” To my relief, dinner was announced, and we proceeded to the dining room.
We spent the next forty-five minutes having a leisurely meal. Lord Ridley often engaged with my parents, regarding topics involving current affairs and the changing political landscape in Europe. I, on the other hand, attempted to remain silent and demure only answering questions he posed. As the dinner drew to a close, he made a surprising move.
“I’d like to show Isabella our gardens,” he announced. “Would you mind if I took her for a stroll among the roses?”
Naturally, I wanted to balk at his proposition. Father and Mother acted as if it were some well-planned ploy on their part. The suggestion, as far as I was concerned, bordered on rudeness to leave behind his guests for the singular purpose of spiriting me off alone.
“Oh, I don’t think it proper to leave my parents alone,” I whined, looking directly at Lord Ridley. “Where are your manners?” My question, which I had purposely composed to bring him shame, had no effect.
“Think nothing of it,” Father interjected. “I’m sure Isabella would be delighted to take a stroll.”
“I’d rather relax and have a cup of tea,” my mother added with a sly smile.
“Very well then,” Lord Ridley replied. “My butler shall show you to the drawing room and provide after-dinner drinks.”
“Shall we?” Lord Ridley said, holding out his hand.
Placed in an impossible situation, I couldn’t refuse. He pulled back my chair, and as I stood, I took his hand. As he directed me toward the veranda doors leading to the garden, he wrapped my arm around his but remained a respectable distance. His movements and swift abstraction of my presence from my parents annoyed me.
“I’m not interested,” my voice squealed as soon as we stepped outdoors. The words flew from between my lips before I could stop them.
“I know,” he replied nonchalantly.
My stride halted, and I pulled my arm from his. “Then you see, Lord Ridley, this entire affair has been orchestrated by my parents. Surely you feel as manipulated as I do.”
“Well, not entirely,” he scoffed. “I am a willing participant and do have a genuine interest in getting to know you.”
He flashed his pearly teeth, and I had to admit the man oozed charisma, except for the tone of his speech. After exhaling a deep sigh of frustration, I gave him an honest reply.
“I’m afraid that my heart has been drawn in a different direction. My emotions are already intertwined with another man.”
“So I’ve been told,” he droned. “However, I’ve been given the impression by your parents that he is undesirable.”
“Undesirable?” the pitch of my voice raised. “The man is intelligent, kind, and successful.”
“But not an aristocrat,” he pointedly remarked, beginning his stroll down the pebbled pathway through the garden.
Exasperated by his pretentious response, I refused to move. When he realized that I had not followed his lead, he stopped and turned around. His eyes ordered me onward. I knew it then that I had to put a stop to it before it went any further. After inhaling a deep breath, I spoke with determination.
“I’m not the kind of woman that an aristocrat would be proud of having as his wife. There have been indiscretions in my past that could put your social standing at risk.” My hand trembled as I declared my reasons. The word pregnancy lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I kept my mouth tightly shut. Should I dare to release that revelation, I would assuredly bring even more shame upon my parents.
&n
bsp; Lord Ridley stood rigidly, contemplating my words, making me wonder if he had discerned exactly what my past held. Suddenly he took a stride forward and hovered over my body, causing me to lift my eyes to his.
“You mean the child you had out of wedlock?” he said in a low tone.
Shocked at his response, I sputtered, “You... you know?”
“Yes, I know.” He smirked. “In spite of your indiscretions, I am still of the opinion that our coupling would be a congenial one.”
Unable to move a muscle, I gaped at him in shock. “Who told you?”
His undesirable character sent a chill down my spine when I noted his cavalier attitude. “Your father mentioned it in private.” His hand reached out and touched the side of my cheek, sliding his fingertips down to my lips. “However, I find you quite delightful as a young lady and would be pleased to have you in my bed.”
“My father?” I couldn’t believe he would do such a thing.
“I’ve known him for years,” he added. “We have engaged in drinks and conversations at the gentleman’s club in London. Let’s just say he’s been aware of my search for a wife and my less than stellar reputation, which keeps me from the cream of the crop, so to speak.”
His admission produced visions of illicit affairs floating in my head, and heaven knows what else he had been engaged in. I wondered how many children he may have sired out of wedlock. It furthered my dislike of the man.
“And I suppose my father offered me up to you as of means of solving my problematic fallen state.” My blood boiled over his conniving schemes.
“Yes, we came to a rather agreeable monetary arrangement.”
“Monetary arrangement?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The blood drained from my face. “You mean he’s paying you a dowry to marry me?”
“Perhaps it is an antiquated arrangement in the twentieth century, but my bank account could use a boost in this poor economy.”
Immediately I jolted at his audacious remark as if I had been shocked by electricity. “You’re a snake,” I snarled. “You’ll never have me in your bed.” I turned to leave, but his hand wrapped around my upper arm preventing me from stepping away.
“I know things you do not, Isabella, including where that precious little girl of yours resides. Perhaps we can strike our own arrangement.”
His announcement of my daughter’s whereabouts sucked the breath out of my lungs. “Where... where is she?”
“I’m not about to play that card so swiftly,” he coolly replied. “Let us agree that you have something that I want and I have something that you want.”
All of a sudden I saw it as an evil ploy on his behalf to win my attentiveness. “You’re lying,” I scoffed, backing away. “You’re trying to trick me.” I began stomping down the path toward the house, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.
“She’s still in London,” he called after me. His voice remained calm and confident. “You have probably passed her on the street with a hundred other children and never knew she belonged to you.”
The torturous words halted my steps, and he slithered up to my side. “You see, I find you most endearing as a young lady regardless of your past.” He smirked. “My own indiscretions makes us a rather worthy pair.”
His eyes penetrated my soul as if he were undressing me to consummate the marriage. Had my parents any idea of the kind of evil creature they had chosen?
“I’ll make an attentive husband.” His assuring voice enticed. “You will want for nothing financially or emotionally.” A wicked smile curled the corner of his mouth. “And may I add physically?” His eyes wandered down toward my breasts and lingered. “And I’ll shower you with expensive jewelry to replace the trinkets you wear.”
He glanced at my locket in distaste, but I said nothing about the sentimentality or its contents. The man had emotionally cornered me, clouding my mind. My eyes searched his, looking for truth as to whether he knew where my daughter resided. An unquenchable urge to see her welled in my heart. But at what price? I had fallen in love with Reginald. Now this man, whom I loathed, had given me hope that I might see my daughter.
“Does my father agree with you, regarding this ploy to tell me of my daughter’s whereabouts after we wed? Was it his idea?”
He burst out laughing. “Oh, dear God, no. I’d be a fool to expose my methods to him at this point in the game. He swore me to secrecy on pain of death, but he doesn’t realize that I can be as sly as he is in his old age. What transpires between the two of us is not his business.” The squeak in his voice had turned deeply threatening.
“Is she well?” My voice trembled to know the answer. He merely grinned.
“I would like to take you to the opera Friday evening,” he replied, ignoring my question. “It should give us time alone to get to know one another.”
“If I agree, will you answer my question?”
“Perhaps.”
“Don’t trifle with my emotions, Lord Ridley.” I hissed in anger. “Your little game is irritating, and if I find out you are lying to me, I will—”
“I’m not lying, Isabella. You can be assured that I have your interests at heart as well as mine.”
He lowered his head and kissed me on my cheek and whispered, “Give me a chance.”
I had been rendered helpless and could not deny his request. If he knew where Mary Jane lived, I had to discover her whereabouts.
“All right then. Friday evening.”
Finally I found the strength to continue toward the veranda and return indoors. Having received from me what he wanted, Lord Ridley gave no objection. We returned to the sitting room. My parents sat quietly chatting with drinks in their hands. As soon as I entered, I made my request.
“Father, I’d like to leave if we could. I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” I dragged the back of my hand across my forehead and grimaced as if I had a headache. To be honest, one had started thanks to my recent conversation with Lord Ridley.
“Are you sure?” Mother inquired.
“I understand fully if Lady Isabella needs to retire,” Lord Ridley agreed. He flashed an empathic glance in my direction.
“Well, all right then,” Father replied, rising to his feet.
“Your daughter has agreed to accompany me to the opera Friday,” he announced, glancing at me affectionately.
“Delightful,” Mother replied.
Sickened by my parents’ noticeable pleasure that I would accompany the dark lord, as I now thought of him, I couldn’t help but sneer inwardly.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said, turning to go.
“Thank you,” Lord Ridley replied. “Until Friday.”
He reached out and kissed my hand once again. Perhaps I should have heard music playing in the background. Instead, my stomach growled in protest.
By the end of his good-bye, I had had enough of the man. Nearly running to the door, I flung it open before the footman had done so and ran out into the courtyard. All I wanted to do was get as far away as possible from him and my despicable Father, who plotted to sell me to another man.
Chapter Thirteen
Desperate Measures
There are advantages to having loyal staff who have watched you grow up from childhood. Occasionally they are willing to help when needed, and such is the case with Giles, our butler. The following morning, as if Reginald knew in his heart I needed to hear from him, a posted letter arrived. After mail had been delivered, each morning our butler gave the entire stack of letters to my father. If something were among the arriving correspondence addressed to another, he would be the one to divvy the post if he saw fit. Of course, anything from Reginald would have no doubt been confiscated if it had my name as the addressee.
Giles, apparently privy to all the conversations of the household had, as any good servant, kept silent in the background. It wasn’t until recently that I realized he had harbored empathy for me, regarding my choices in male companionship. As I came down to breakfast, he cornered
me in the hall and slipped the envelope into my hand.
“This came for you in the morning delivery,” he whispered. “I thought it only fair that I should deliver it directly to you.” He winked affectionately, accenting the crow’s-feet around his eyes. He had, after twenty years of service, entered his elder years. Having never known him to disobey an order in the household, my heart swelled with gratitude at the gesture.
“Giles, you are a dear,” I replied. “Thank you so much.” I shoved the letter into my skirt pocket and grinned my gratefulness from ear to ear.
“You are most welcome, Lady Isabella. I shall be pleased to do so again in the future if called upon.”
He turned and left with the stack of envelopes, heading for my father at the breakfast table to deliver the mail. I, on the other hand, headed in the opposite direction back toward my room for a moment of privacy. After locking my door, I sat on a chair by my window and slipped the envelope open with my finger. Anxiously pulling out the correspondence, I held it in my trembling hands.
“My dearest, Isabella...”
Dearest, he calls me dearest, and my heart swells.
“It is with great regret and sorrow that I pen this message to you. Recently it has been brought to my attention that our association and friendship is a conflict of interest in my current position as solicitor for your father. Our firm has represented his legal needs for over twenty years. As our senior partner has reminded me, the satisfaction of our clientele is paramount. Any personal desires that I may hold in continuing our friendship, which may contain romantic notions as I’m told, must cease.
As of this morning, I have been sternly advised to break our personal rapport immediately. If I do not, there will be consequences up to and including my dismissal of employment.
Please be assured that I hold you in the highest regard and wish you every happiness in the future.
Sincerely,
Reginald”
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 9