Her aunt fixed a narrow gaze on Isabel. The whites of her eyes shone in the darkness. “Mr. Bradford is coming in the morning. And you will accept him. If you do not, you will no longer be welcome at Emberwilde.”
The next morning at the appointed time, Isabel descended the stairs and walked into the music room. She felt as if she were en route to an inquisition—one in which the outcome was already fixed.
Isabel wondered if this was how her mother had felt when her family rejected her decision to marry.
Under the weight of injustice, she now felt an empowering bond with the mother she had never really known. Her mother had married her father for true love, and Isabel would not marry until she also had a true love of her own.
Mr. Bradford had not yet arrived. She had not seen her uncle yet, and the only word from her aunt was a message indicating which gown she should wear. Even Constance, whom she saw every morning, did not pay a visit to her chamber.
Nerves tightening, she sat alone on a settee in the music room, the very same seat she had taken on her first night at Emberwilde months ago. From where she sat she could see the Black Wood Forest. Its beauty was both alluring and dangerous. Despite her fear of what lingered within it, Isabel found herself wishing she were under that green canopy, far from this room.
Her empty stomach churned as she waited. She had not even been able to drink a cup of tea or hot chocolate. She jumped as the small mantel clock chimed the eleventh hour in a sharp tone. Did her aunt not say Mr. Bradford would be here at that time?
She rose and stepped to the picture of her mother, which still intrigued her. She now knew the piece by heart. She had memorized every wisp of hair, every shade of blue used in her eyes. She tried to draw courage from the woman who had already overcome her predetermined fate.
“If I did not know better, I would think that a portrait of you.”
Mr. Bradford’s voice scratched her ears.
Isabel turned slowly. He stood before her.
She winced as he pulled the door closed behind him. It was improper to be alone with a man anywhere, but behind a closed door was most distressing and reawakened her fears of the previous evening.
“Mr. Bradford.” She remembered to curtsy.
Her heart pounded harder with every step he took toward her. His expression was far too intimate, as if he could read her thoughts.
The scent of sandalwood surrounded him. His shadow eclipsed her.
“Such a beautiful woman. And like I said, you are her very likeness.”
She swallowed, but it did little to combat the ringing of her ears or the lightness of her head. “Thank you, Mr. Bradford.”
“How I wish you would not call me that.”
She looked back to the painting. “What would you like me to call you?”
“My name is Edmund.”
She could think of no man whom she had called by his Christian name. But now that he had asked, could she refuse him? “Very well, Edmund.”
The room grew warmer, and she felt him draw closer. His very presence suffocated her. She stepped away from the painting, drawing a deep breath.
He spoke at length. “I am sorry if I upset you last night.”
“It is I who should apologize.” This was what she was supposed to say. “It was impolite of me to run off as I did.”
“On the contrary. It was a sensitive topic, and foolish me, I should have made sure we were alone. But we are alone now.”
Isabel looked at him. She had not expected an apology. It was clear to her now that their engagement was a plan between him and her aunt, an agreement of sorts that had already been arranged. In all likelihood, this was what he had been discussing with her aunt so heatedly. Otherwise he never would have been so bold as to shut the door.
Again, panic began to bubble. “Let me call my aunt, Mr. Bradford. She will be sorry to have missed you.”
“It is not your aunt I am here to see. I am here to see you.”
The sinking feeling started again, but this time it was worse. He reached out and took her hand in his own. The warmth spread through her like a fire of dread.
She did not resist as he tugged her hand, silently imploring her to sit beside him.
Not knowing what else to do, she complied.
He did not let go of her hand. “I want to take care of you. I want my home to be your home.”
There could be no mistaking his meaning.
“When you quitted the room last night, I cannot even describe my despair. You left, and I had no idea where you went. I feared my action caused you pain. I can no longer pretend that my feelings for you are not in earnest. I love you, Isabel.”
“But, Mr. Brad—Edmund, there is much to consider. I—”
He ignored her protest and stroked the top of her hand with a long finger. “Oh, my dear Isabel, I know what I need to know. I know you are caring. Loving. And oh, my dear, so incredibly beautiful.”
He reached out to touch her hair, and she instinctively shrank back. “Please, wait. I pray I have not given you the wrong impression or led you to believe that I return your feelings. While I am flattered, of course, I . . .” She paused.
He was smiling.
Why was he smiling?
“Isabel, I have sought your aunt’s counsel on this. And she warned me you would say such things. You have done nothing wrong. I can assign no fault to you. But my heart is willing to wait.”
“Wait? For what?”
“Poets oft speak of love at first sight, but I know precious few experience it as I have. I am one of those ill-fated souls. I also know that you do not return my regard. But I can only pray that you will learn to return my affection. For if you could return even a small percentage of the vast emotion I feel for you, then my heart will be full.”
He leaned toward her, his handsome face beaming with unguarded emotion that appeared to be genuine.
She suddenly realized he meant to kiss her.
Panic pushed her to her feet. This was not at all how it was supposed to happen. This was not part of her agreement in coming to live here. She glimpsed the portrait of her mother.
Strong.
Headstrong.
Determined.
She had all those qualities flowing through her own veins.
Her decision was formed in that very second, as the noonday sun fell through the music room windows.
“I am sorry, Mr. Bradford. But I cannot marry you.”
His eyebrows drew together, and his eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
He deserved the truth, at the very least. Whatever his reason for proposing, he deserved at least that.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“Give me the opportunity to earn your trust.”
“I am sorry. But my answer is no.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
With one refusal, Isabel thrust herself and her sister into a life of uncertainty.
Moment by moment she questioned her decision. Not only had she turned her back on a secure future, she had wrested a lady’s life away from Lizzie.
Had that been fair? Selfish?
On the same day, a fair day in July, Aunt Margaret made good on her promise. Despite Constance’s pleading, the Creston sisters were no longer welcome at Emberwilde.
Isabel had thought returning to Fellsworth would be a natural transition, but that was far from the truth. Her teaching position was no longer available and her bed had been reassigned. Mr. Langsby did take pity on them and allowed Isabel to stay in an unused chamber at the school, and Lizzie rejoined her classmates. Otherwise, nothing was as she remembered.
During her months at Emberwilde, her life had been more relaxed. Less structured. She’d become used to the luxuries, and returning to life at Fellsworth was proving difficult. Even Lizzie struggled, for now she had a fancy for riding. Of French and Italian. Her experiences already stretched beyond what many of the other girls would experience in their lifetimes.
One moment Isabel felt confiden
t in her decision.
The next moment she regretted it.
But then she recalled the awkward, sickening feeling as Mr. Bradford leaned to kiss her, and she found peace with her decision once more.
Once again she rose at dawn. It would not be long before the mornings held autumn’s crisp chill, but for now, the early hours were warm. Since she and Mary no longer shared a room, they went for walks in the garden before the rest of the school would awaken. During their time together, Isabel shared the details of her time at Emberwilde, but more specifically, the reason for her departure.
“I wish I could have seen Emberwilde,” Mary mused, a far-off expression in her light eyes. “It sounds absolutely lovely. I do wish, for your sake, it could have ended differently.”
“I must say that I am surprised to be back,” Isabel said as she walked down the wooded path. “It is definitely not how I imagined it to end, that is certain, but I could not have wed him, Mary. I just couldn’t have.”
Mary spoke softly. “Why is that?”
It was an innocent enough question, one for which Isabel should have had a good answer. After all, by marrying Mr. Bradford she would have security. He was handsome. Doting. She would have remained close to family. Most importantly, Lizzie would have had the future she deserved. Isabel considered her words carefully. “It was a feeling that prevented it, Mary—a sense that something about him was not as it seemed. I cannot put it into words, exactly.”
“Then maybe you do not need to try.” They walked in silence for several moments before Mary asked, “Was it because maybe there was someone else? You did mention another young man you met while at Emberwilde.”
At the question, Isabel’s steps slowed. She’d be lying if she said that Mr. Galloway had not been on her mind and that she hadn’t thought about their encounters several times since she left Emberwilde. The thought that she would not see him again haunted her. She had not even had the opportunity to bid him farewell.
A sigh escaped her lips. There was nothing to be done about it. Besides, it was unlikely that she meant anything to him or that her failure to bid him farewell saddened him in some way. Her attraction to him was a silly infatuation, surely.
Mary waited for an answer, so she drew a deep breath. There could be no point in lying to her friend—not someone who knew her as well as Mary did.
“Yes,” Isabel said slowly. “I don’t even know how it happened, how I allowed my feelings for him to change. It was a silly inclination on my part to leave my heart unguarded in such a fashion. But how could I accept Mr. Bradford when I had feelings for someone else? That is something I did not want to do.”
“Then I think you made the right decision,” responded Mary, looping her arm through Isabel’s. “And selfishly, I am glad.”
Isabel smiled. “I am too. At least I will not be married to a man I do not love.”
“Well, perhaps your time at Emberwilde was not meant to be your great adventure. I wonder what will be.”
Isabel wished she could share her friend’s optimism. “I think my time of adventure is over.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. The important thing to remember is that no experience is ever wasted. It is being used to fashion you into the person you are meant to be, and to move you to the place where you are supposed to go.”
“Be that as it may, what comes next frightens me.” Isabel looked toward the neighboring trees, which reminded her so much of the Emberwilde Forest. A strange, unexpected pang of homesickness struck her. “Mr. Langsby said that there is a governess position open just to the north of London, and he has recommended me for it. He is waiting to hear back from the household. If they accept me, I fear I will have no choice but to go, and if I do, Lizzie will have to stay here. Being apart from her is my worst fear.”
Mary’s steps slowed. “That does seem so far away.”
“Now there is nothing to do but wait.”
Regret began to wind its way into her heart, and Isabel squeezed her eyes shut to keep the dread at bay. She had to accept the consequences of her decision, for there could be no turning back.
Colin rode to Emberwilde. Miss Creston needed to know the truth. It could not wait another day, and he would make sure she knew.
He handed Sampson to one of the stable boys who came around as he approached, and with determination he mounted the stone steps to the front entrance. This was not a visit for which he would take the tradesmen’s entrance, for he was not here for Ellison. No, he was here for another person entirely.
Mrs. Ellison must have seen him approach. She was in the foyer before he could even hand his hat to the footman waiting to receive it.
“Mr. Galloway,” she said, surprise draining her already pale complexion of color. “What are you doing here? If it is Mr. Ellison you seek, you should find him in his study, like always.”
“I am not here for Mr. Ellison,” he stated. “Is Miss Creston at home?”
Her hand flew to her neck. “Why, the nerve, calling so openly on a young lady! You should be ashamed.”
Colin did not even flinch. He’d expected to receive at least a handful of attacks on his character. This was nothing new. “This is not a social call, Mrs. Ellison. I need to speak with Miss Creston on a legal matter.”
Mrs. Ellison lowered her hand and drew a deep breath. Could it be that she was summoning courage? For a moment, her gray eyebrows drew together in concern, but the expression quickly passed, and she thrust her chin into the air. “She is not here.”
Her response caught him off guard. “What do you mean, she is not here?”
Mrs. Ellison toyed with the long chain about her neck. “She and her sister have returned to Fellsworth. It seems she was not suited for life at Emberwilde.”
Colin was not sure he could believe what he had just heard. The muscles in his jaw began to tense. “Fellsworth? Why would she be at Fellsworth?”
Mrs. Ellison’s lips formed a hard line before she opened her mouth to speak. “You might as well know. No doubt everyone will know soon enough. Miss Creston has disrespected our family in the vilest of manner. She is no longer welcome in our home.”
Colin could only stare at Mrs. Ellison for several seconds as her words took hold in his mind. Anger crept in, slowly choking out disbelief. “No longer welcome? Why? What has she done?”
Mrs. Ellison raised her eyebrows, as if to suggest that the conversation was beneath her. “I owe you no information or answers. This is a family matter.”
Colin struggled to keep his voice controlled. “Like I told you when I arrived, I am not here on a social call. I have information that needs to be discussed with her immediately.”
“And what could be so important? She is gone now, and she will not be coming back.”
“I would not be so sure on that regard. But perhaps you have not heard. Miss Creston has been named the heiress of Heddeston Park.”
Colin waited for her response. Her expression remained as stone, unflinching. Unchanging. Had she already known?
At length she spoke. “Leave it to my father to distribute our family’s fortune to such an undeserving, ungrateful wench.”
Of course she would speak of her own niece so unkindly. Colin was quickly realizing the older lady’s tactics. “Think of her what you will, but her character has no bearing on the situation. She has until her twenty-first birthday to claim the property, otherwise it shall pass to you.” He watched her closely for any reaction before adding, “But I am sure you already knew of that.”
“And how would I know what was in my father’s will? It was not public!”
True, old Mr. Hayworth was a private man, but in Colin’s experience, family members knew where a fortune was going. “So you had no knowledge of your father’s plans for the property? I know the steward has spoken with you on several occasions regarding the heir. You never thought to mention Miss Creston to him? Even after you went on a quest to find her and bring her here?”
“I hid nothing, Mr. Ga
lloway. I knew nothing. And I owe you no answers.”
What she did not say spoke much louder than the words that came from her mouth.
“How is it that you were conveniently able to locate her before the steward even knew her name?” he demanded.
“As I have said before, my cousin wrote to me after coming into contact with a colleague of Isabel’s late father. My cousin, of course, knew of the relation and made the fortunate connection.”
“That is most convenient, is it not?” Colin could not prevent accusation from coloring every word. “And when she arrived, did you not put the pieces together? Or did you plan to keep it from her, so her birthday would come and go without mention?”
“You should not speak of things that do not concern you, Mr. Galloway. Again, I did not know the details of my father’s estate. My father was very secretive with his will and his intentions. I am hardly on trial here. I offered my niece kindness, and in the end she offered betrayal. If anyone is to be blamed for the current state of affairs, it is she.”
“And what constitutes betrayal?” He should stop talking. He should turn and leave. For he was no longer speaking as a magistrate or solicitor. He was speaking as a man whose feelings were hopelessly intertwined with the situation.
He did not expect her to respond, but she did. “A match was made for her. She encouraged a gentleman’s affections and then refused his offer. That sort of loose behavior is not to be borne, especially under my roof.”
“Ah. I see.” The pieces were becoming very clear. Colin began to pace. “The gentleman you speak of—that is, of course, Mr. Bradford?”
“Who else?” Her round face was growing red now, and the area around her eyes was turning pink. “She made him believe she had affection for him, and he proposed, and she denied him. I cannot have a woman with such questionable morals in my house.”
“And that would be most convenient, would it not?”
“What does that mean?”
“Even if the connections were made, and Miss Creston did inherit, the property and all of its resources would undoubtedly slip into her husband’s control. And Mr. Bradford is an ally of yours, is he not? Having him in control of Heddeston Park would be the next best thing to controlling it yourself.”
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