Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance)

by Carolyn Jewel

  “I’m following your instructions. You’ve probably got your divorce by now, and so I’m leaving. I don’t intend to die just to convenience you, Alexander.” Her words had a pleasingly dramatic ring to them and she smiled at the effect she imagined they were having on him. She let go of the banister so she could brush past him, and as soon as she did, her knees buckled when her legs refused to bear her weight and she tumbled down the stairs.

  Alexander shouted for help as he ran down the stairs to where Isobel lay in a crumpled heap. He cradled her in his arms. She was ghostly white. When he rose with her in his arms she seemed to weigh almost nothing. “I’ll never divorce you,” he whispered, “not ever!” But she had lost consciousness and did not hear him.

  Two days afterward, Isobel opened her eyes to see Bridget sitting in a chair drawn up close to her bed. “How are you, Lady Hartforde?” Bridget asked when she saw Isobel was awake. She leaned forward to press a hand to her cheek.

  “Better, I think,” she said. “How are my babies?”

  “They are very fine, beautiful boys!”

  The next day, she sat up in bed to sip the broth Bridget pressed on her. “I feel much better today,” she told her with a weak smile.

  “Lord Hartforde will be glad to hear that, my lady!”

  Isobel frowned. “Yes, I’ve been here too long.” She sipped the last of the broth. “I want to see my boys today.”

  “Shall I bring them to you for a visit?”

  “Yes.” She shifted so Bridget could pick up the tray.

  “I’ll be back before you know it!” Bridget paused at the door. “I think Lord Hartforde would be pleased to see you. Shall I call him?”

  “No! I never want to see him again!”

  Bridget did not understand what had happened between them; she’d never seen a man so in love with his wife. Whatever had happened to make him leave her in the first place was obviously over, but now it was Lady Hartforde’s turn to be stubborn. She shook her head sadly as she walked down the hall to the nursery. When she and the wet nurse brought the boys to Isobel, Bridget held one of the twins while Lady Hartforde held the other.

  She smiled foolishly at Bridget. “They are perfect, aren’t they?” She held out her hands to take the other, disguising a wince of pain when holding her son hurt her. She played with them for nearly an hour until she could no longer convince Bridget she wasn’t being taxed by lifting them so often. She kissed each one on the head, then watched as they were taken out of the room by the wet nurse. It would not be too soon before she could take her sons and leave.

  She had no way of knowing it was solely the doctor’s advice that she should be left alone that kept Alexander from insisting she see him.

  Isobel refused to believe Bridget’s ridiculous story about the time her husband had spent nursing her back to health. “He only wants me to get well enough to leave!” she snapped, tired of hearing Bridget repeat the ludicrous tale. She had had her heart crushed once too often by that man, and nothing—absolutely nothing—would convince her he cared for anyone but himself. She might still love him, but she had at last recognized her foolishness for what it was. She might be many things, but she was not so mentally unbalanced as to subject herself to the pain of his presence.

  “Why would he want you to leave, Lady Hartforde?” Bridget exclaimed. “Why, any fool can see he’s in love with you. And I know you love him.”

  “He thinks I betrayed him with another man! I could not leave here fast enough to please him.” Isobel looked at Bridget as though she expected her words to silence her at last.

  “I don’t believe it,” she protested.

  “No doubt he’s been hoping I’d die and save him the trouble of the divorce.”

  “Oh! Surely you don’t think that?”

  “Believe me, my Lord Hartforde made his feelings for me perfectly clear. Now, I won’t listen to any more of your silly chatter about a man whom I loathe!”

  IV

  Isobel sat in her room staring out the window where she had a view of the fields stretching out past the stable, watching a lone rider head out to the north. She recognized Alexander’s broad shoulders even from such a distance. As she watched him, it struck her he had yet to send word about how soon he expected her to leave. She saw no reason to wait until he threw her out. He might rule her heart, but he did not rule her mind. She knew he was going to a hunt at Squire Walters’s and he wouldn’t be back until quite late. She jumped up from her chair, quickly packed a valise, and found Bridget to tell her she was going for a walk. She didn’t want her to go into one of her speeches about Alexander; it was easier to tell her the small untruth. She went to the nursery and found the wet nurse sitting with the twins. She was a young girl whose own child had died not long after its birth.

  “Lady Hartforde.” She nodded.

  Isobel picked up one of the twins; he gurgled happily and waved two perfect little fists in the air. “What is your name?” she asked the wet nurse.

  “Molly Westlake, milady.”

  “Are you up to a trip to London, Molly?”

  “Of course, milady.”

  “I’ll have the carriage brought round in half an hour. Will you be ready to go?”

  “Yes, milady!”

  In half an hour they were on their way to London. It began to rain the second day out, but before it had rained hard enough to slow them down, they had reached the better roads closer to London. Eight days later, they arrived in London. Isobel took rooms at a small inn and immediately went to sleep, exhausted by the trip. It was two days before she finally felt well enough to go out, and the first thing she did was pay a visit to Julia.

  Julia’s face lit up with pleasure when she saw her sister-in-law. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” She threw her arms around Isobel and hugged her tightly.

  “Well, Lady Burke, how have you been? Have you forgiven me for missing your wedding?”

  “Never mind me! Tell me how you’ve been. How are the twins? Hartforde writes us that the boys are two little angels. When are you bringing them to London?”

  “They are angels,” Isobel said, but Julia wondered at the hint of sadness she saw in her smile. “I brought them with me.”

  “Isobel, whatever happened between you two?” Julia asked. “Why did he leave you for so long?”

  “What does it matter, Julia? Things are no different now. I’m sure he’s waiting impatiently for our divorce to be granted.” Isobel felt the corners of her mouth pulling downward as she tried to hold back her tears.

  “Divorce? That’s nonsense!”

  “The only reason he came to Hartfordeshire was to tell me he was petitioning for divorce. When he got there in December, he ordered me to leave Hartforde Hall, and if I hadn’t had an accident, I’d have been in London at Christmas! And I was still with child then”—she was sobbing now—“and he was throwing me out! He wouldn’t listen to one word I had to say. The truth meant nothing to him! He was so anxious to have me gone. He doesn’t love me and I could not stand to be near him one more day!”

  “What accident?”

  “I had an accident a few weeks ago. ’Twas nothing serious. I was abed a few days, that’s all.” Isobel shrugged.

  “Is that why you’re so thin?” She wondered how it could have been nothing when she was reduced to nearly skin and bones. “I don’t believe Hartforde is going to divorce you. He does love you—I know it!”

  “He doesn’t, Julia. Don’t you think he would have told me if he did? And, anyway, if he doesn’t divorce me, I shall divorce him. If he wants so badly to believe I betrayed him with the duke of Mallentrye, then so be it!”

  “Mallentrye? What about him?”

  “It was at the duke’s concert. Do you remember all those pamphlets attacking the King? And the rumors that Alexander was responsible for them? You know if there was any proof, the King would have exiled him. Well, the duke had a letter—forged, of course—that would have implicated Alexander. Never mind ho
w I found out about it. I stole the letter and the duke caught me coming out of his study, and then when Alexander came along, all he saw was the duke holding me.”

  “And he could only think of Sarah.” Julia was beginning to become very angry with her brother. “But surely if you explained it to him—”

  “He would not listen to me! Don’t you think he would have if he loved me even a little? I love him with all my heart, Julia, but I want nothing more to do with him!”

  V

  A day or so after Isobel visited Julia, she made a trip to Alexander’s solicitor. She sat waiting in an uncomfortable chair until Mr. Avery came into the room and apologized for keeping her waiting for even the briefest moment.

  He bent over her hand. “What may I do to help you, Lady Hartforde?”

  “No doubt you know, Mr. Avery, that Lord Hartforde intends to divorce me. In fact, it is my understanding the process has already begun. It is quite impossible for my children and me to stay at Albemarle Street, as I’m sure you can well comprehend. My request is really quite simple, and it is that you advance me a sum sufficient to allow us to stay in London until such time as my lord has obtained the divorce.”

  “Lady Hartforde, Lord Hartforde has said nothing to me about a divorce!”

  Isobel paused. “Well,” she said at last, “you may take my word that it is imminent. I imagine he will be in London shortly to discuss it with you. And, if by some comedy of errors, he forgets to bring it up, you may be assured I intend to divorce him!”

  “I am not at all convinced of the case, Lady Hartforde. However, I see no reason not to accommodate you for the moment. Perhaps it would be more convenient simply to have your bills sent to me? Your husband has been exceedingly generous in giving you a monthly allowance of five hundred pounds. I see no difficulty in having his banker disburse that amount to you immediately. I might add, Lady Hartforde, that Lord Chessingham was also exceedingly generous.” He looked down at Isobel as he spoke. “If it is true you will divorce, you would be well advised to secure your own counsel.”

  “I think, Mr. Avery, that five hundred pounds will be perfectly adequate.” Isobel waited patiently while he wrote out the name and direction of Alexander’s banker, and instructions on how to locate his office. “How much did you say my father gave him for me?”

  “I didn’t. But as you ask, your jointure amounts to one hundred thousand pounds.”

  The next afternoon Isobel moved to rooms at the St. James’s Hotel in Jermyn Street and had soon hired a maid and purchased a fortepiano.

  She used up nearly one hundred pounds for the fortepiano and the cost of delivering it to the hotel, but she was mightily pleased when at last it was settled in the second of the three rooms she had taken. As soon as she was divorced she intended to move into a house, but until then she thought she would be quite happy at the St. James’s. As soon as she was up to it, she would call on Faircourt, but she wasn’t ready for that just yet.

  When she sat down at the fortepiano, she was dismayed to find that she played badly. After an hour she gave up and sat staring at the keys. The depression she thought she’d left behind engulfed her, paralyzing not only her fingers, but her heart as well.

  Chapter 35

  I

  Alexander’s heart wasn’t in the hunt and twice he considered giving it up and going back to Hartforde Hall. But later he was persuaded to take some port with Squire Walters and the other huntsmen before heading home. He was chagrined to find when he was ready to leave that the night was pitch-black. A thick fog obscured the moon, so it was impossible to attempt the ride home, and he found himself forced to spend the night at Squire Walters’s. He was oblivious to the blatant looks the chambermaid cast his way, and when he slept he dreamed of Isobel. He rose at half past six and waited impatiently for his horse to be brought around. He left his thanks for the hospitality and his regrets for leaving so early and was on his way by seven o’clock.

  He had been at Hartforde Hall for only two or three hours before a flustered Bridget was ushered into his rooms. He took one look at her anxious face and felt his stomach tighten. “Is Lady Hartforde all right?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, milord!”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “She’s gone, milord! She left yesterday and took the boys with her!”

  II

  Alexander did not reach Albemarle Street until early in the morning some twelve days later. It had rained almost every day and the roads had very nearly been impassable. He was delayed two days when his carriage lost a wheel, but one day was saved when, on what proved to be his last night on the road, the rain cleared and a full moon enabled him to travel all night. For some reason he had expected to find Isobel at Albemarle Street, and he was disappointed she was not there. It was far too early to ask after her anywhere else, or he would have left immediately to look for her. He ate a quick breakfast while trying to decide where to begin his search. At half past nine, he decided he’d be dashed if he could wait until ten, and he walked to Redruth, where he was forced to wait half an hour before Chessingham would see him.

  “Good morning, Hartforde.” The earl gave him a look that told him he had better state his business and be on his way.

  “Has Isobel been here?” he asked.

  “If she had, I’d have turned her away. You know that.” Though Chessingham had no intention of forgiving her, he was having a time forgetting how much he had come to care about her.

  “Do you know she damned near died after taking a bullet meant for me? And that she’s made you a grandfather twice over?”

  Chessingham flushed. Whether it was with anger at Alexander’s hard words or from the effect of the news they imparted, it was impossible to tell. “Well,” he said after a pause, “why the devil has she left you? She’s married now, and her place is with her husband.”

  “We had a…misunderstanding. ’Tis my fault she’s gone – just as ‘tis my fault she got with child.”

  “No, ’tis a man’s nature to try and a woman’s duty to resist until the act is sanctioned by the Church of England!” He turned away and looked engrossed in the fire.

  Alexander recoiled from the bitterness behind the earl’s words. “Yet, sir, I’d wager you’ve had mistresses in your time and never gave a thought to their souls, nor your own, either. I take your leave”—he bowed to Chessingham’s back—“and I pray both your heart and your mind are opened before it is too late.” He was striding out of the room when the earl’s soft question stopped him.

  “Is she all right, Hartforde?”

  He turned around. “No, she is not.”

  As soon as he got back to Hartforde House, he ordered the carriage and set out for Berkeley Square.

  III

  “Yes, she was here, a day or so ago,” Julia told him. “Hartforde, I do not think she is well, and she was completely distraught! She told me you had ordered her out and that you are suing for divorce. I said I did not believe her.” Julia’s voice rose in outrage at her brother. “It isn’t true, is it?”

  “Is that what she said?” Alexander sank down in a chair.

  “Among other things. She also told me about the duke, and, though I know it is not my concern, I am making it my business. You are a fool, Hartforde! You have been less than a gentleman when it comes to a woman I consider my best friend. Perhaps some part of the blame rests with her, but I suspect, brother, you can be overwhelmingly convincing when it suits you. I was appalled enough to discover you seduced her while she was at Hartforde House.” Julia colored but continued: “If you were going to be so despicable as to not marry her immediately, it was at least your duty to ascertain the consequences. I truly think I might never speak to you again. My God, when I think about what you have done to her—”

  “Julia, I know—”

  “As for the duke,” she interrupted him, “I wish you had killed that despicable man! You will listen to the truth: Isobel saved you from disgrace. How could you believ
e she would have anything to do with him?”

  “Julia, listen to me,” he said sternly. “I know about the duke and I know that what I saw wasn’t what I thought it was. I don’t know why I’ve been so bloody bullheaded when it comes to that woman, but, though I admit you are right to berate me, you are also right that it is not your concern. The primary concern must be finding her, not telling me I am a fool for not realizing sooner I am in love with my wife. She is not yet recovered from her wound.” He jumped up from the chair and began pacing.

  “Wound?” Julia repeated.

  “An attempt was made on my life, and in pushing me out of danger, she was shot.”

  “Shot? She was shot?” Julia sat down on the sofa. “My God, Hartforde, I would never have let her leave here if I’d known!”

  “She is not at Hartforde House, nor is she at Redruth. If she isn’t here, I don’t know where to look for her.”

  “She told me she was at the Cressington Inn. You must go to her and straighten out this wretched affair. If I hear from her, I’ll send word to you immediately. Now, I offer you the suggestion you start by telling her you love her.” She put a hand on his arm. “I believe she loves you still, but I warn you she might succeed in putting you out of her heart. I shall pray it is not too late for you.”

  “And I as well.”

  IV

  Alexander came into his room and collapsed into a chair, splaying out his long legs and sighing gratefully when Peters bent over and removed his boots. He had gone directly to the Cressington Inn, only to discover that Isobel had departed just the day before. She had left no word about where she was going. He sighed and closed his eyes. He was so tired it was entirely likely he would fall asleep where he sat. Tomorrow, first thing, he would go to Faircourt to ask if he had heard from her, and if he had no luck there he would go to his solicitor and have him set about finding her.