“Do be careful,” Mrs. Somerville said, and then her gaze lingered on mine for a moment too long. The slight purse in her lips read as an apology for the display from her daughter, which was quite dramatic, but not wholly unexpected.
There was nothing else to do but help Anna to her room.
We walked toward the hallway, and Anna’s limp only slightly slowed us. I couldn’t be sure if she’d pretended the fall and accidentally hurt herself, or if the fall were an honest one, but her injury was indeed exaggerated.
One could never fully trust Anna’s words or intentions—at least not all of the time.
Every tiny morsel of my patience was tried as Anna insisted on thanking each guest for their kindness as we made our way out of the room. Miss Kinsley was relegated to standing a step or two behind Anna, only slightly better off than a ladies’ maid.
What interest did Anna have in Miss Kinsley? Was it a simple matter of Anna enjoying her company, or did Anna simply appreciate being the benevolent giver of status, society, and trinkets?
Mr. Sheffield’s response could not be uncommon for someone with Miss Kinsley’s background. How often had she dealt with such dismissal while in London? As Anna’s tinkling laugh of societal politeness rang out next to me, my guess was that it happened more often than someone like Miss Kinsley would ever admit. Surely my parents, when they arrived, would be no kinder than Mr. Sheffield had been.
Even here, at Haven’s Landing, the rules and unfairness of London society followed. If I were truly to escape society’s maneuverings, I’d have to find a home even more secluded than the Somerville’s estate.
The moment the three of us found ourselves slowly climbing the stairs, I refused Anna’s request of carrying her. Instead, I allowed her to hop from step to step with my arm as her support.
“I do hope your ride tomorrow is everything you hope for,” Miss Kinsley said.
I paused. “Surely you don’t intend on staying behind.”
Miss Kinsley’s face fell slightly, but her shoulders pulled back. “I could not possibly leave Anna.”
“Leave Anna?” I exclaimed. “Anna will be doted on most preciously by her mother and other guests.”
“Isabelle is such a dear companion—” Anna started.
I cut her off. I had earned that right in this moment, at the very least. “You are not so selfish to prevent a dear companion from enjoying the pleasures of the estate.” I could not imagine Miss Kinsley being left behind—not after the way her face lit up when our destination was mentioned. “Not when her visit is so short.”
“I...Well, I…” Anna glanced up at me as we slowly moved toward her door.
I knew I could not look down upon her without anger or frustration showing on my face.
“Of course you should go, Isabelle,” Anna said slowly.
Before Miss Kinsley could respond, I interceded. “Lovely. Elliot will be very happy, and I’m quite sure your cousin Mary would appreciate not being the only one of the female persuasion on our ride. Thank you for being so considerate to your guest.”
I felt the need to remind Anna that Miss Kinsley was indeed a guest, not a governess nor paid companion.
Miss Kinsley opened the door to Anna’s room and reached out for her friend. “You should not follow us any farther Mr. Windham,” she said, her voice low. “Thank you for your service.”
Our eyes met, and my heart squeezed. I had not intended on feeling so much so swiftly. I would have to check myself until I could sort out my feelings and take a hard look at my future and what would be expected of me. Pursuing Miss Kinsley would be a disappointment to my parents, and I’d never fully disappointed them before. I didn’t know if I had it in me, no matter how fascinating I found her.
My heart would be far easier to dissuade now, rather than later, when I’d formed an attachment...if Miss Kinsley were even considering such an idea. I’d even lost my sense for decent words in my own thoughts.
“Oh,” Anna said as she tapped Miss Kinsley’s delicate collarbone. “This chain does look lovely on you, I’m so happy you accepted it.” A moment later, Anna’s blue eyes were on mine—appearing both defiant and hopeful at once.
I’d mentioned selfishness, and now Anna was determined to show me how kind and gracious she was. There may be many details about women that I did not fully understand, but I did know Anna. “It looks lovely.”
“You should go and enjoy the evening,” Miss Kinsley said softly. Her lips ticked upward, and a playful gleam reached her eyes. “Perhaps you may have better luck this time, against another card player.”
My smile pulled on my cheeks before I could find a mind to stop it. “Thank you, Miss Kinsley. Though, I may require a re-match.”
Anna’s mouth dropped open, and my duty to settle this situation was clear. “Anna, I do hope you heal quickly, and know that our ride will not last long, and we shall all be in company again shortly.”
Finally, the door closed between us and I turned to lean my back against the wall. Threading my way through so many wants and feelings and rules threatened to be the death of me.
Chapter 19
Isabelle
I had jumped, quite literally, at Elliot’s suggestion of braving the possible mud for a morning ride, especially after days of rain that made outdoor activity impossible. I did not do well stuck indoors, no matter the beauty of a place like Haven’s Landing.
Yet, Anna did not wish me to ride without her, though Mrs. Somerville had insisted upon my going. I longed to go, all the while not wishing to upset my friend. Choosing correctly felt impossible, until Mrs. Somerville had taken the decision away completely by commanding Mr. Windham to escort me to the stables. Her glare at Anna was enough to send shivers down my spine.
Mothers had a way of asserting dominance by a momentary expression.
The house’s façade seemed to follow each of Duchess’s strides, and, no matter how hard I tried, the image of Anna pressed against her bedroom window, sad and lonely, seemed to loom just as large.
Her theatrics the previous night had not provided her the wished-for outcome—not in the slightest. In her attempts to garner Mr. Windham’s attention, Anna had actually twisted an ankle. Worse, instead of sympathy, she had received Mr. Windham’s begrudged assistance.
The ride presented an opportunity to center my heart and mind. I had not yet reconciled myself with Anna’s treatment of me or Mr. Windham.
I frowned. Humiliation had the power to grow darker than anger, for at least with anger, there remained a possibility of pacification. Humiliation, however, seemed to latch on to every part of a person’s feelings, blurring the good and the bad into one indistinguishable tangle of self-doubt.
Anna was much more tangled than her morning hair. I was nearly certain my performance on the pianoforte had prompted her outrageous stumble.
Warm light settled against the sleeve of my borrowed habit, and I savored the comfort it brought. I urged Duchess faster and higher up the hill, hoping to leave Haven’s Landing—and Anna’s humiliation—behind me.
My cheeks burned by the time I reached the hill’s summit. Heart pounding against my chest, I gasped. My legs, grown weak without daily rides during the season, cramped. Mama had been so concerned about my activities and the perception of those around me, thereby limiting my exercises to dancing and walks in Hyde Park—poor substitutes for riding.
I patted Duchess’s neck and ran my gloved fingers through her shiny, chestnut mane. Her head relaxed and dropped as her walk loosened. Perhaps Haven’s Landing and Duchess would cure me of my physical weakness. Another three rides, and my abilities might be restored.
Horse hooves clashed behind me, and Mr. Windham came to an abrupt halt beside Duchess. “Miss Kinsley, you are difficult to catch.”
I turned in Mr. Windham’s direction, and the train of my hat threatened to carry me away. I pressed one hand atop it to secure it and lifted my chin. “Is that so?”
He signaled Napoleon to match pace w
ith Duchess. The wind whistled, slicing between us as sharply as Anna had the previous night. Our initial meeting in the bookshop and the secondary one at Haven’s Landing had done away with formalities—laughter seemed a third party in our friendship, and an innate understanding of one another made for effortless conversation.
In the saddle, Mr. Windham sat nearly a foot taller than me. He extended a hand behind and gestured to the others. “Do you not wish to ride beside Miss Fullerton or Elliot?”
“I do, but…”
“But?”
I shrugged. “But I wished more so to climb this hill—and not at such a dreadfully slow rate.”
“I suppose they are glad for the time alone to be re-acquainted,” he said.
“To be separated must have been difficult for both of them,” I replied.
“It could not be helped. Her younger, married sister required her help as the sister’s health was not well,” Simon explained. “And her parents promised to hire another maid of some sort this summer to aid her sister. Elliot and Miss Fullerton knew the separation was temporary.”
“I suppose that counts for something.” I relished the feeling of Duchess under me, her footsteps sure and steady. “His parents rely on him quite a bit, as I believe he is to inherit the estate.”
“He is,” Simon confirmed. “Though, I do not wish to discuss my friend.”
His lips spread into a full smile, one that was far too handsome for any respectable person. “Tell me something about yourself. Miss Somerville and Elliot have not ceased singing your praises since I arrived.”
“I just did,” I said, teasing. “I have little patience, particularly for caution.”
Mr. Windham spoke again, this time in a serious tone. “So it seemed. You hadn’t the anxieties of Anna in the library. In fact, I rather think you wished I had turned out to be a ghost.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. Despite his careful tone, he must have thought me silly. “In general, I am not inclined to believe in such things, but your theatrics intrigued me.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “I doubt many would have reacted with interest.”
I scoffed. “If by interest you mean silliness, then I agree.”
“Miss Kinsley, do you often insult yourself?” A cloud passed over us, darkening his features considerably. His eyes fixed to mine with an intensity that rattled me.
I shivered, wishing for the sun once again. “Do you always ask such personal questions?”
He shook his head, staring across the landscape in front of him. “No, forgive me.”
I nodded, but I could not forget his question: was I always so self-deprecating? Mama, as much as she doted upon me, had never thought my impatience or impulsivity something to be celebrated. Consequently, I had never valued such qualities either. Could anything good come of a quick-witted tongue and proclivity for the poorly thought out actions?
“I would like to add that I believe it’s that same fearlessness and curiosity that makes you a formidable card player.”
“There is also luck,” I responded. Had I just insulted myself once again?
“Of course, there is luck,” Simon answered quickly. “But even in vingt-un, where so few cards are used, one must weigh the odds, but also know when to throw caution to the wind.”
“I was playing with money which Mr. Somerville owed you,” I responded, hoping he might change the subject. My extensive knowledge of cards, due to my father’s teachings, did not seem an appropriate claim. Most women settled on whist.
Mary and Elliot were fifty yards behind, and I released a careful, calculated breath. “Did you mean to suggest you prefer my actions in the library to those of Anna’s? Do not gentlemen prefer a lady in distress? Would it not have been better—in the bookshop for instance—if I had asked for your assistance instead of climbing the ladder?”
He fiddled with the reins and visibly swallowed. “I do not prefer timidity nor feminine manipulation—both traits Anna exhibits.”
My heart raced. I had not meant to cast an unfavorable light on my dear friend, a friend that was already bothered by my outshining her in other ways. I shook my head. “But Anna has many other fine qualities, surely. You, of all people, know that. You’ve known her for—”
“Long enough to know most everything about her.” He sighed. “I am grateful you are not so particular nor so begrudging.”
I struggled to catch my breath, and I turned away to hide my confusion. Surely he knew how she regarded him. Anna failed to possess an ounce of subtlety. Was this Mr. Windham’s attempt to make clear his disinterest in her? Did he think me the messenger type? Or, was he simply attempting to make me feel at ease about my reaction in the library?
The rest of our party reached the summit at last, and Elliot sent me a wide-eyed stare. “I thought you two would never wait for us. Mary is not an experienced rider. Her father thinks horses a necessary evil—something about how they facilitate gambling.”
Mary’s cheeks darkened to a charming shade. “I try to remind him that reading about gambling, as he does in the paper, is no different than riding the same animals that participate in the sport.”
Mary, for all her reserved tendencies and strange mannerisms, was a wonder. Twenty-seven and unattached, only recently engaged, yet still she was easily provoked to a blush? She did not look as old as her years, not by five. Her skin was flawless, and not a single freckle dotted her rosy cheeks. I had the inkling that were she to speak more freely, the pair of us might be friends.
Elliot rose a hand high in the air. “Goodness, those clouds came quickly.”
I looked up just as the first drops of rain pelted against my cheeks. Not again. Rain seemed the unwelcome guest at Haven’s Landing, one determined to stay.
“Down there,” Elliot said, pointing toward a clump of trees. He adjusted his hat and pulled to the front of the group. “We may take shelter there.”
We took our horses down the slippery slope, and with each step, the rain came faster, thicker, until I could scarcely make out the path from the muddied cascades branching through the grasses and down the hill. My horse’s hooves sunk into the mud, and she halted more than once to maintain her balance.
Mr. Windham pulled ahead of me and reached the trees, dismounting in time to assist me. The storm transformed the ends of his brown hair into black, and he looked nearly as uncomfortable in his soaked clothes as I felt in mine—cold straight through.
He visibly swallowed, and moisture glistened across his sharp jawline. “Your horse…”
I wiped my gloved fingers across my spattered cheeks and reached for his outstretched hand, sliding down the side of Duchess carefully. “Yes, she managed quite well.”
Mr. Windham, however, did not take my hand, catching me instead about the waist and lowering me to the ground.
I spun to face him.
There was not a hint of humor in his expression. Was that concern as he glanced down at me?
My cheeks, chilled from the rain, warmed considerably. He was so near, and the close proximity allowed me to study his face. His jaw was dotted with dark stubble, and his lips were pressed into a tight line.
“Did you not notice?” he asked, one hand still resting on my back. “That she threw a shoe?”
The horse. I blinked, stepping away and consequently putting more space between us. Duchess seemed perfectly fine—cold and wet but thankful for the protection of the trees. I patted her back. “No, I did not, and neither did the horse, it seems.”
He took another step toward me, once more destroying any chance I had at regaining my normal pulse. “They usually do not notice, not unless the shoe took with it a portion of the hoof.”
My eyes fell to the ground. Then, I lifted each of Duchess’s hooves until I found the shoeless one. “The poor dear.”
“Miss Kinsley,” Mr. Windham said, laughing in what looked to be disbelief. “Your poor gloves—the groom is just there. He will attend to the horse.”
Again, remind
ers of my upbringing plagued me. I dropped the hoof and turned to see Elliot also watching. Anna would never had done such a thing. Indeed, most ladies would have left the task to the groom. Rather, no lady but one raised in a modest country home would reach for a muddied horse’s hoof. I rubbed my gloves together, and clumps of mud dropped. “I only wished to make sure the horse was comfortable.”
“Clearly,” Mr. Windham said, and a smile replaced his concern. His baritone voice shook with humor, and I imagined he must think me as ridiculous as the first day we met in the bookshop.
“You are far braver than I,” Miss Fullerton said with a kind smile as she too, shuffled under the canopy. “They snort and I jump. They slip, and I’m certain I’ll end up in a pile under their hooves.”
“You did very well.” Elliot smiled at her.
Scratching his head, Simon stared down at Duchess’s feet. “I’m not quite sure how to continue.”
Elliot removed his hat, shaking the rain from its brim. His auburn brows knitted into one large, rather foreboding-looking line. “You say she’s thrown a shoe, Simon?”
I pulled off my mud-caked gloves and tucked them in the pocket of my habit. Mama had praised me on my ability to blend in with the London set during my season, but moments like this reminded me otherwise. Fitting in with gentility seemed impossible. Whether it was chasing ghosts at the window, playing cards with large wagers, or lifting a muddy hoof, my inability to think before I acted spoke volumes of my upbringing.
Mr. Windham and Elliot conversed in hushed tones, their glances alternating from me to the groom.
“Are you well, Miss Kinsley?” Mary asked, coming to my side. Unfortunately, her hat had not spared her face. Rivers of water ran down her forehead and over her flushed cheeks. Her thick hair had turned into a sopping pile at the nape of her neck. “Have you been harmed?”
Elliot’s head shot up. “Nothing to be concerned about, Mary. The groom will be taking Miss Kinsley’s horse back to the stables. Simon has volunteered his horse, electing to walk back to the house instead.”
Of Twisted Fates (Kinsley Sisters Book 1) Page 15