by Carla René
Chapter 25
You Have No Right
You Have No Right (Chapter Twenty-Five)
In a normal situation, a crowd would have gathered in curiosity, especially with a person of important social standing. But in this case, seeing as how it was Isabella Audley, no one wanted to taint their own reputation by running to her aide. The band’s instruments remained quiet, and people all around the room continued to stare, yet no one made a move to help her.
Finally, it was Mrs. Aitchison who ordered some of her staff to help Isabella from the floor. They carried her to an awaiting settee in a small room off the main ballroom. Then Mrs. Aitchison ushered everyone out and sat next to Izzy while putting a cool cloth on her forehead.
A few minutes later, Izzy came around, completely confused about where she was or what had just happened.
“You do not remember a thing?”
Izzy shook her head, all the while wondering who this beautiful and kind creature was before her.
Mrs. Aitchison must have read her face, for she volunteered the information.
“I do not believe we have been formally introduced. I am Mrs. Aitchison,” she said.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Miss Isabella Audley,” said Izzy, returning a smile.
“Yes, I know who you are,” Mrs. Aitchison said.
Izzy was not sure how to respond to this, but she smiled, and waited for Mrs. Aitchison to continue.
“You are a beautiful girl. I have heard many good things about you.”
Izzy could hardly contain her surprise. “Oh, my; thank-you for your kindness. I have heard wonderful things about you and your family as well.” She studied the beautiful woman’s face and was amazed at how young she looked. She knew she had to be at least her mother’s age, but she did not look a moment over thirty. She noticed her smooth skin, and discerned that she must take extra care to keep it so young. Izzy only hoped she would look this good when she was in her mid-forties. Her delicate features were made prominent with her blonde hair swept off her face. Her lips were stained with a pink that only complimented her skin tone, and the ivory gown served to enhance her delicate complexion. All of this together, created a huge affect on Izzy.
“Are you hungry, dear?”
With all of the day’s exciting events, she had to admit that she was now feeling the full effects of not having had a meal, and nodded her affirmation to Mrs. Aitchison.
“Come. Let us get something proper into your stomach.”
As Izzy and her companion made their way back to the ballroom, Izzy noticed to their left a huge and inviting banquet table. The table was at least twenty-five feet in length, covered in neatly-ironed white linen fabric. Every few feet, there were candelabras made of gilded brass that supported thirteen long, pristine white tapers. In-between each candle stand, there were large crystal vases with fresh arrangements of a combination of imported red gladioluses, white American Beauty roses, and a most vivid green ivy. The colors together were quite stunning, and fitting for the time of year.
She was amazed at the delectable food available. There were large honey-glazed hams, roasted pheasant, wild duck, pans of smoked salmon, green salads, bowls of cooked vegetables of all varieties, steaming loaves of home-made bread, hand-churned butter and pots of delicious jams—blackberry; strawberry and peach. Then, at a smaller side table were the mouth-watering desserts: ten varieties of iced cakes; fruit cobblers; pies and the wonderful seasonal favorite, plum pudding. Then on a table over were the drinks: hot and spiced teas; coffee, and pitchers of ice-cold milk and water.
All-in-all, it was a superb spread like nothing Isabella had ever seen. But as she admired the finery, she noticed a low rumbling from her stomach.
“Dear, if you are hungry, feel free to fix yourself a plate. No one will mind,” said Mrs. Aitchison.
Izzy was not convinced. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I am now not so sure that it would be a good idea if I were to partake.”
But Mrs. Aitchison had already moved toward the meats and was inquiring of Izzy’s choice of pheasant or salmon.
Izzy’s attention drifted to the details in the ballroom, and she was duly impressed. She noticed the expansive Christmas Fir, directly across from her and beyond the dancers. With the twenty-five-foot ceilings in the ballroom, the tree’s height nearly touched the ceiling. It was covered in hand-blown glass ornaments, German tinsel, and long white tapers, which only served to add more heat. Red velvet bows had also been tied to many branches, adding the right amount of holiday color.
As she continued to sneak peaks she began to notice the exquisite gowns of the other ladies present, and soon became self-conscious of her own clothing, although, it had been a very smart and fashionable design choice when she had it tailored a year before. But now, here, standing next to some of the most affluent and influential people she would ever meet, her gown looked pale; tired; like it belonged to the daughter of a politician with no money for current trends. Her heart sank. Perhaps Mr. Whentworth had been right in suggesting, in no uncertain terms, that she remain as far away from tonight’s festivities as she could.
As she turned, she saw Mrs. Aitchison standing in front of her with a full plate and a cup of cold tea, and she followed her companion back into the smaller room.
Mrs. Aitchison handed Izzy her plate and cup once she was situated on the settee again. “You looked as if you were on the verge of starvation,” said Mrs. Aitchison in a soft voice.
So, this was it! This was the reason she had been so kind to Izzy. She was offering me nothing more than pity. I feel as if I could die!
But before she got the chance to drop from embarrassment, a group of sniggering girls walked through the settee room and stopped in front of them. One of them said, “Is that not last year’s gown, dearest?”
Izzy was so shocked, that she froze with her mouth open, and before she knew it, she had dropped her entire plate onto the beautiful tapestry, spilling her food everywhere.
It was Mrs. Aitchison who intervened. “Martha, I do believe you have spoken out-of-turn. I think your mother is looking for you, now run along.” When Mrs. Aitchison turned to face Izzy, she noticed Izzy was now staring down at her plate. “Do not worry about the mess, Miss Audley.”
One of the Aitchison staff was on the scene with utensils for cleaning before Izzy knew from whence they came. As her instincts took over to bend down and help the staff clean up, she felt a soft hand on her left arm from Mrs. Aitchison, and when Izzy looked up, she saw the woman shaking her head in a discreet ‘no.’ Izzy complied.
But it was too late; her actions had been spotted by the group of girls that had lingered, and they began to laugh and talk behind their hands. Izzy looked to Mrs. Aitchison for support, and the woman picked up on Izzy’s distress without hesitation.
She grabbed Izzy’s left elbow and walked her to the head of the banquet table, where they again began choosing foods for Izzy’s plate.
But this time, Izzy’s hands shook so badly from her last faux pas, that she could not hold the plate steady and feared she might drop it.
Again, Mrs. Aitchison intervened and handed the plate to a very handsome male attendant, and instructed him to follow them to the settee in the small room.
When they were situated, Mrs. Aitchison sat in the available chair next to the settee and sipped her spiced tea, but did not speak.
Izzy took this as her chance to enjoy the delicious repast before her, and so she therefore wasted no time in sampling everything.
As Izzy ate, Mrs. Aitchison chatted lightly about varying topics of interest—none too specific or heavy-handed, but enough to ease what could have been an awkward silence, and for that, Izzy was grateful. She was also too hungry to comment, but Mrs. Aitchison did not seem to notice, nor did her conversation seem to suffer from lack of intercourse.
Finally, when Mrs. Aitchison saw that Izzy was nearly done with her meal, she turned to Izzy. “Miss Audley, may I broach a topic of a most
delicate nature with you?”
Not certain as to how to respond, Izzy swallowed the last of her tea so quickly that she nearly choked. She stared in silence at the woman to her right.
“Please, do forgive my impropriety on this most precarious topic. But I wanted to inquire of your mother’s health. Is she well?”
Izzy let out a slow breath of relief. “Oh, my, yes. As a matter of fact, she is doing much better as of this afternoon. Her doctor is with her now. He is certain she will be out of bed within a matter of days. I will tell her that you asked about her.”
“Yes, please do send her my compliments. Of course, I am sure you know that word of it has spread through this town like a disease.”
Izzy nodded. She also secretly wondered at what other news had spread like a recent disease, but dared not ask.
“Which brings me to my next question.”
Izzy now knew she was not breathing—almost like watching an oncoming carriage as it is about to hit you, without being able to do anything about it except hold your breath as it does.
“Please forgive my intrusion, but you are a smart girl. I know that you are aware that most people have been unable to talk of nothing else but your recent misfortune.”
Izzy continued to listen.
“And to be honest, that is what I wish to speak with you about as well.”
Now Izzy was thoroughly confused. What could this woman possibly have to say to her on a most private matter? She did not even know this woman except by reputation. She wanted to scream obscenities; tell her to leave their family business alone. But, she was a woman of gentility and privilege—even though she warred with that disparity constantly—and knew better. She had to guard whatever reputation she had left. So, she deferred to the older woman and allowed her to speak her mind, while she remained silent.
“Miss Audley, do forgive me, as I know it is not exactly my place to lend commentary on a most fragile situation, but I thought perhaps my council might help.”
Izzy was now painfully aware of her throat and how it was suddenly full of cotton that had not been there only moments ago.
Again, Mrs. Aitchison, proving herself to be an incredible clairvoyant this evening, motioned for an attendant to bring another cup of tea for Izzy. Once the tea was delivered and Izzy’s throat hydrated, Mrs. Aitchison continued.
“May I speak frank with you, Miss Audley?”
Izzy only nodded. Did she have a choice?
“It has been my experience, that when one encounters a situation that will test their mettle, if not handled with the proper amount of propriety that it deserves, then one can find themselves in a worse situation, if they are not careful.”
Again, Izzy’s confusion kept her from speaking, but her attentions rapt. She had absolutely no idea what this woman’s point could be.
“What I am trying to say, Miss Audley, is that while yes, we did send you an invitation to this celebration—of course, during a time when things were better off financially for your dear family—and we are most certainly glad to have you here, I think, in order to salvage whatever reputation you and your dear mother may have left, it might behoove you once you are done with your meal, to slip quietly out the back entrance.”
Izzy stared in complete disbelief.
“I know you will agree that it is best for all concerned. And please, do send my best wishes and compliments to your mother.”
Chapter 26
Surely, You Jest!
Surely, You Jest! (Chapter Twenty-Six)
When Izzy was finally able to regain her voice, she could hardly think of where to begin, so livid was she. So, to dissipate some of that anger, she rose from the settee and began to pace; almost as if circling prey before striking.
Mrs. Aitchison could clearly see that Isabella was shaken, and with her many years in high society, had enough propriety about her to keep the situation contained.
“Miss Audley, please understand. I am thinking only of your safety, and to spare your family any further hurt.”
Izzy dared not look at her, for right now, if the circumstance had allowed it and the law permitted, she would have certainly put a hot poker between the woman’s eyes. How dare she? Who does this woman think she is?
As Izzy continued to pace, she suddenly realized that if she were going to put in an appearance for Mr. Whentworth’s benefit, then she would have little time to do so before being ushered to her carriage by a burly, one-armed man who would not care one whit about her present circumstance (or his teeth), or her reasoning for lingering. She decided to proceed at this from another angle.
She turned to face Mrs. Aitchison, but allowed the woman to speak.
“Dear Miss Audley, I so apologize for the awkwardness in which we find ourselves. And I want to assure you that I am fully mindful of your present pain, and for that, I do offer my most heartfelt sympathies. I hope you understand.”
Izzy tried to calm the screaming voice inside her head. She gained control of her shaking before she began. “Mrs. Aitchison, do forgive my behavior. As you can well understand, I have been very pressured of late. My apologies.”
Mrs. Aitchison’s smile was genuine. “My dear, think nothing of it. I do understand.”
“May I ask one favor of you before I have to vacate your lovely home?”
Mrs. Aitchison considered her request carefully before nodding her approval.
“Seeing as how this is my first time in such a superb mansion, and with my impending fall from societal grace it is most certain that I will never see another place as grand as this, might I possibly take a quick stroll through your lovely home?”
Mrs. Aitchison looked as if she were going to turn down the request, but Izzy was quick-witted and intercepted.
“Oh, I do promise, ma’am, that I will keep to the walls while walking; I will not be ostentatious. I would like to see the few friends that I do have here before needing to leave with my tail tucked.” She gave a weak grin to imitate mocking her own reasoning.
“Well, I suppose if you are discreet and do not call attention to yourself, there would be little harm in your having a quick tour.”
Izzy sighed in relief. “I cannot thank you enough for your kind benevolence, Mrs. Aitchison. I must admit that I have looked quite forward to this evening for a very long time, and just the chance to view your home in its seasonal splendor is more than I could have hoped.” Izzy was certain her reasoning was sound, and her delivery convincing. She awaited a response.
Mrs. Aitchison seemed almost coy and Izzy was certain she saw her blush.
“You are too kind, Miss Audley,” she said, as she rose to face Izzy. “It is certainly a shame that society would dictate that one must break all ties with another simply because their economic circumstances had changed for the worse. Frankly, I have never understood this idea.”
Izzy was surprised by this. “But, and forgive me for prying, I would think with your family’s standing and wherewithal, you would gladly uphold the rules of class, for the protection of your family’s reputation and security!”
She nodded. “Yes, you are correct. I do have that to consider. However, I also do not have to like it. Perhaps that is why I can say that I feel a kinship with you. I think I see a lot more of myself in you and your spirit than I originally cared to admit.”
Izzy had to smile at this. “Is my disdain for the rules that obvious?”
She laughed. “Oh, my dear, you could never hide it. It is engrained too much within you. In that regard, your father and mother have raised you very well. I truly admire your character. You will make some man a wonderful wife one day.”
Izzy’s face clouded at the thought of her previous row with Mr. Whentworth that day.
Mrs. Aitchison discerned the matter. “I am sorry, Miss Audley. Is this, too, a result of your change in circumstance?”
Izzy was now too emotional to do anything but nod her head.
Mrs. Aitchison nodded in confirmation, but remained silent as she
walked.
Izzy, now overcome, sat back down on the settee. “We were engaged only this afternoon.”
Mrs. Aitchison wheeled to face her. “Oh, Miss Audley! How wonderful… wait. You said you were engaged. Would you mind if I ask what happened?”
“No, I suppose not. It was my fault, of course. I was simply not being sensitive enough of his feelings, that is all.”
“Is that what he said you felt?”
“I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Well, it has been my experience that a man, in order to save his own reputation and heart, will convince his partner that whatever argument ensued between the two of them, was most certainly her fault. I have seen a lot of self-doubt in that regard between two people.”
Izzy considered this. “Yes, you are right. But in this case, I do think it was my fault.” Izzy continued to retell the story in great detail.
Mrs. Aitchison sat riveted. When Izzy was finally done, Mrs. Aitchison leaned back onto the cushion of her settee, and shook her head. “Dear, I suppose, if we are to be honest, there might have been a way for you to have presented your opinion in a more genteel fashion. But Mr. Whentworth needs to realize that you are under an incredible amount of strain, with heart flutterings and nerves, and this is not an easy thing for a woman to have to go through alone. He certainly could have been more supporting of you in that regard.”
“The only thing I could tell you with certainty right now, is that he is out there, in your ballroom, on your dance floor, on the arm of my best friend, who apparently does not care a thing for my feelings, either.”
Mrs. Aitchison stroked her hair. “You poor dear. How terrifying your future must seem to you at the present moment. Is there anything I might be able to do for you right now?”
Izzy shook her head. “I cannot think of anything. Except for my being able to walk around. I will confess, that was my motive for wanting to not leave so soon. I just feel that I cannot give Mr. Whentworth that sort of satisfaction.”