“Of course it all changed soon enough. I am still not sure what really happened.” She stopped talking for a moment, trying to remember.
“Right, I remember, the first signs of autumn were beginning to appear. It was the first real outing, you see, to start the season off in style. It set in motion a line of soirees we were planning to attend in the upcoming months. Everyone was excited, except for Clive, of course. He decided not to go with us. This simply crushed Victoria, making her go to extreme lengths to persuade him to go. She used her wiles to try to sway him, and coax him into going. But once Clive made up his mind, no one, not even Victoria, could change it. Her usefulness apparently had ended with the summer. She was no longer a diversion for his dark moods. He declined again, adamant in his decision.”
Isabelle clamped her hands together to stop their shaking. “Um, yes, well, we still made ready to go out without him. I was glad he was not going. I knew we would have a much better time without him. His moods were like the wind. No one ever knew when they would turn into something dark and dismal.” She paused, her mind straying to the past.
MEMORYTHE PAST RAVENHURST
“Isabelle, you look ravishing…if I were a suitor, I would sweep you into my arms and carry you away with me on my white stallion, just like Lancelot,” Victoria said, flourishing her arm and bowing in front of her.
“If I had a suitor he would more than likely be riding a black stallion with a tarnished suit of armor,” Isabelle said with a cynical tone.
“But he would be so handsome it would not matter…” Victoria said, laughing.
Isabelle could not help but get caught up in the foolish fantasy. “Yes, he would be dashing and handsome…and money would be of no consequence because we would be hopelessly in love…”
‡
A tear slipped from her eye at the memory. She brushed it away with her fingertips. “I am sorry. I find I have gotten lost in my own thoughts.” Shaking her head, she continued onward. “Victoria bowed out at the last minute as well, feigning a headache. I was worried about leaving her. I knew somehow she should not have been left alone with Clive, but I so wanted to go. My own selfishness did that to her,” her voice broke with another fresh onslaught of tears. She covered her face, her body shaking.
Grayson walked over and pulled her hands from her face, leaning forward. “Isabelle, it is not your fault, you were a young girl as well.”
Isabelle sniffed, trying to keep more tears from falling. “I really have no idea what happened that night. When I finally did come home, I found my dearest friend lying on my bed, looking so much like one of my broken childhood dolls.” She lifted her hand imploringly. “I was young and naïve, I had no idea…” The tears came in earnest now, rolling down her face. She used the palms of her hands and pushed them away. A surge of anger bubbled to the surface. “That was no excuse. I should have done something, but I did not. Instead, I crawled into bed with her and gave her the only comfort I knew how to give and when I awoke the next morning, I did not know what to think. She was gone. I had hoped it was all just a terrible nightmare, but it was not. My dearest friend, my only friend was gone…forever.”
She lowered her voice to the point it was almost inaudible; her eyes were shining too brightly. “I was going to kill him. I had the gun,” she said, lifting her hand in front of her. “It was right here in this hand…I could have pulled the trigger, but…her mind drifted back to the past…
MEMORYTHE PASTRAVENHURST
“What are you going to do Izzy? Hmm…you going to kill your only brother, and for what? That whore. You know she used you. I caught her in the stables, lying in the hay with one of the stable lads. It was disgraceful how low she would stoop to satisfy her carnal urges. It was disgusting. I did not want you to have to bear witness to that kind of immoral behavior. I sent her away before the gossipmongers got hold of her indiscretions and slandered your good name right along with hers.” He stood and pressed his hands against the desk and leaned forward, his sandy-blonde hair falling down across his brow.
“I did this for you, little sister. For you,” he repeated. “That is how great my love for you is.” He pushed off the desk and raked his hand through his hair as he began to pace. “I had become quite fond of her as well.” He sighed heavily. “Imagine my surprise, no my mortification, when I went out for an unexpected ride and found her in the throes of passion with a lowly commoner.” He shivered in disgust. “You are better off without her. You will see.” He took a deliberate step in her direction. “Now give me the gun Izzy before you hurt yourself.”
‡
Her mind came back to the present. “I believed him even though I knew on some level he was lying to me, and still I did nothing. It was easier that way. It was easier to forget...”
She took a breath, reached out a shaky hand to the chair behind her, and sat on the edge. “I may have even forgotten her for a while. Things went on at Ravenhurst as though she never existed. Once in a while, I would think of her but I forced Clive’s words to my mind and instead of being overcome with sadness I held tightly to my anger instead. I chose to believe Clive’s lies and I almost forgot…almost…
MEMORY*THE PAST*HAWTHORNE MANOR
“Yes, Charles what is it?” she asked, looking up from her reading, a PENNY DREADFUL entitled The String of Pearls: A Romance, about the demon barber of Fleet Street, SWEENEY TODD. It was one of her guilty little pleasures.
“A missive was delivered to the kitchen for you,” Charles, her elderly butler, said as he shuffled his way across the room.
“What on earth for? There is a perfectly good entrance to Hawthorne.”
VII
“Yes, well, it was a small lad. I think he felt more comfortable going around back to the kitchen’s Madam.”
“Oh, that type of delivery. Well, I hope you offered him a meal for his troubles.”
“Yes, Madam, he is eating a nice luncheon as we speak, awaiting your response to the missive.”
He walked forward and handed the envelope over.
Isabelle took it and used the letter opener to break the wax seal. She did not recognize the crest on it. Once it was opened however, she did remember the handwriting…she lifted her hand to her chest, her face draining of all color.
“Madam, are you all right.”
She looked up at Charles. “Yes, yes I am, Charles. It is a surprise.” She saw the lines of worry etch his brow. “It is a happy surprise Charles, no need to worry.”
“Well if you say so Madam,” he supplied doubtfully. “Will that be all Madam?”
“Yes, of course. You may leave.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh and Charles…”
He stopped in the doorway and turned around, his brows lifted in question.
“Be sure to give the lad a few coins for his troubles, and have one of the maids come fetch my reply for him at two o’clock.”
“Very well.” He bowed his head and walked out of the room…
She breathed a weary sigh, as her mind slipped back into the present.
“Well…? Go on…you almost forgot…and then what?” Devlin asked impatiently.
Isabelle lifted her eyes from her lap. “Oh, she sent a missive.”
Devlin leaned forward to hear what else she would say but she merely sat quietly in her chair, saying nothing. “Isabelle?” he called. “What did the letter say?”
“She needed my help.”
Devlin scoffed. “The nerve of some people.” He shrank back like a reprimanded child against the cushion of the settee when Grayson cut him a disagreeable look from across the room.
“What did she need help with Isabelle?” Grayson nudged.
“She needed me to look after Marguerite, her child. I had instantly thought the child was the stable lads, but as I read the missive, I found out who the real father was.”
Devlin gaped at her, not believing she was just going to leave the story there, right on a cliffhanger. He hated those types of endings. “I
sabelle, who is the father?”
“Was.”
“What?”
“Who was the father,” she corrected him.
“What? Is he dead or something?” Devlin joked, not realizing she had already answered the question.
She laughed. It bordered on hysterics. “Why yes, yes he is.”
“I can not take the suspense a moment longer…who was he?” Devlin asked, leaning forward.
“Clive, my brother,” she responded in a deadpan voice.
Devlin’s eyes rounded and he pressed back further into the cushions. “Oh,” he said, his mouth forming a perfect “o.”
Her brow creased and she shook her head. “I sent a response immediately, begging her to join the child and stay with me as well.” The words rushed from her mouth as she finished her tale. “I am not sure what happened but shortly after that, I received another missive informing me that she was dead, and somehow I knew she had taken her own life. Apparently, I was wrong once again.”
“What did Clive do when you confronted him?” Devlin asked intrigued by the story.
“Oh, he laughed at me.”
MEMORY*THE PAST*RAVENHURST
“You dirty liar! How could you!” she railed at her brother as she stormed past the doorman and into the library where Clive was seated behind his desk.
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “I assume you are speaking of your so-called friend.”
“You…you are the one who slept with her, not the stable lad.”
“Please Izzy, how gullible are you. Just because I may have had a tussle or two with the girl certainly did not mean she did not already spread her thighs wide for someone else. I can assure you her body had been well used before I even gained admittance. I practically fell in.”
“That is not true. You are lying. She never slept with you, she…she would have told me!”
“Really, then how is it exactly that you are accusing me of being her bastard’s father then. If it makes you feel better, I can always say I did not sleep with her. It was not very memorable.”
“You disgust me.”
He shrugged. “So which is it going to be? Hmm? You planning to tell the Duke about my little indiscretion, and what of our little understanding? Would you like me to tell the Duke of that as well? I mean if we are to be honest and if your conscience demands that truth…” he said, letting his words trail off.
“You promised.”
He laughed and then dropped his hands and leaned forward. “Then we will call it even. I keep your little dirty bastard, I mean secret, and you keep mine.”
“Are you not curious about Victoria? You were smitten with her for a while, I could tell.”
“There you go again Izzy, spinning more of your fanciful tales. Perhaps you should start writing some of them down. I bet the Penny Dreadfuls would publish a story or two for you. Of course, you would have to take a pseudonym. Oh wait…your stories are not sad are they? No, of course not. They are filled with childish fantasies about romance and Knights in Shining Armor.” He leaned back and smiled beatifically at her. “How’s the old Duke filling those shoes Izzy? Do you envision one of your fantasy lovers while the old Duke pounds away on your young self, day after day, night after night? His old sagging skin puckering from your touch…”
She lifted her fingers and plugged her ears. “Stop it Clive. Please.”
He sighed. “Oh Izzy.”
“She’s dead you know.”
“Is she? Huh. She really was quite lovely…at least she was for a while.”
Isabelle unplugged her ears. “Why did you say that?”
“Why did I say what?”
“For a while…you said she was a beauty for a while…like you thought she was not any longer.”
He shook his head. “The wrong choice of words I suppose.” He lifted up his drink and took a long pull from the glass.
‡
Once again, her mind came back to the present and she turned her gaze on Sebastian. His handsome face mirrored her own in so many ways. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness but instead she lifted her chin a notch, swallowing the urge like she had for so long it had become second nature to her. “I do not know why Victoria would want to hurt you.” She shook her head in confusion. When Grayson reached out and took her cold hand in his, the walls came crashing down. Her cries were muffled against Grayson’s shoulder as he gathered her into his arms, giving her what comfort he could.
THE LIES WE TELL
RAVENHURST
MILFORD pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to his brow that was now covered in a light sheen of sweat as his own memories came back to haunt him.
Once he finished, he methodically folded the handkerchief back up into a tiny square and tucked it neatly back into his pocket. Time was up. He needed to say something but he was not altogether sure how he should go about it. Finally, he decided and jumped in with both feet. “I think I know what happened,” he blurted out.
After he had everyone’s attention, he turned his world-weary gaze on Isabelle. “I honestly had to piece together much of this information. I had no idea… Isabelle, I am truly sorry for keeping this from you,” he added with meaning, lifting his hands helplessly in the air. “I was here at Ravenhurst that evening, but unfortunately at the time, I had no knowledge of what had transpired. Victoria’s maid, Lisette, searched me out and asked for my assistance in helping her. She told me she heard voices coming from Clive’s room, which I can attest was no surprise, once you left the house, Isabelle. He would entertain his friends when he thought he was alone, you see.” He left his statement open ended, letting them fill in the blanks.
“From what I could gather from Lisette, Victoria purposely stayed behind that evening to be with Clive. They had been in clandestine relations for most of the summer.” His voice faltered and he cleared his throat once again, shifting awkwardly. “Apparently, when she went to his chamber, things did not go as she had hoped. You see, she ah, found Clive and several of his ah, companions, in various stages of undress…one did not have to stretch their imagination very far to know what was transpiring between them.”
His voice faltered again. “Things went downhill steadily from there. When she confronted Clive, he had a good laugh at her naiveté. She would not let it go and began yelling at Clive, calling him all sorts of reprehensible names. I believe with Clive’s temper she may have pushed him a bit too far and, as recompense, he made sport of her in front of his friends. They may have even partaken as well, I can not be sure, and neither was Lisette. Whatever transpired, I am sure it was not what the poor dear wished for…or expected.” He shook his head sadly. “I asked the maid why she did not do something to help her, but she was so afraid. She said that Victoria was a genteel lady and if the men could do that to a lady, she was terrified what they may do to her, a simple maid, for interfering.”
“So Clive made sport of her with his friends?” Isabelle shook her head, her lip quivering. “That monster,” she hissed, balling her shaking hands into fists. “That explains part of it but what of her beautiful face?”
“Yes, because I can assure you she was not beautiful when I saw her,” Devlin added insensitively.
Milford sighed sadly, shaking his head. “Lisette told me she could not see very clearly but after the, ah, episode, Victoria must have lost all reason. She tried to attack Clive, but he was simply too strong. He easily tossed her away from him. Victoria lost her footing and fell face first into the sharp metal screen that surrounded the fireplace. It cut her face open pretty badly.”
“She could have gotten stitches, why did no one call for a doctor?” Isabelle asked, wringing her hands in her lap.
He swallowed hard. “Clive…ah, apparently laughed at her and told her that now that her beauty was gone, no one would ever want her again. He called her a monster.”
“No.” Isabelle gasped and covered her m
outh with her hand.
“Yes, well, that comment seemed to push her completely over the edge. She attacked him full on, clawing at his face, and chest. Unfortunately she was still no match for Clive; he was simply too strong.”
“How did she get back in my room?”
“Clive instructed one of the maids to remove her from his room and to pack her things. He said she was going off on a one-way carriage ride to Bedlam. He told the maid she had lost her mind. So Lisette snuck out of the shadows and dragged her from the room. She cleaned her wounds as best she could and put her in your room Isabelle, hoping to hide her until she could make other arrangements for her. She knew if she went to Bedlam, she would never be coming back…ever.”
“I say it sounds like this Lisette may have saved her life,” Devlin piped in, completely engrossed with the story.
Milford patiently waited for Devlin to finish his commentary and then finished his story. “After that she searched me out and told me what had transpired. I quickly set about making arrangements to have her sent away, to get the medical attention she would need, but you came back in the midst of our preparations…but you seemed unaware of the extent of the damage done to her poor person.”
“Why did you not tell me, Milford, I could have helped, taken care of her…?”
He shook his head apologetically. “I know. I wanted to…but Victoria was adamant. She did not want you to know. I am truly sorry, but Victoria had us whisk her away while you slept,” he said sadly.
“Marguerite was born approximately nine months later. We can only assume whose child she is, was. We hoped the child would pull her from her unresponsive state, but that was not the case. I heard Victoria disappeared once for a few days, and not surprisingly, that is when Clive met with his untimely demise. I suppose Victoria had her revenge after all.” He shook his head once again. “I will tell you this, I was not sorry when that day came either,” he said with sincerity. He looked back to Sebastian and then to Isabelle. “I am so sorry I did not tell either of you but I did not see what good could possibly come of telling you the horrors done by that man. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content: (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series) Page 28