Dawn at Emberwilde (13 page)

Now the Ellisons chatted about fabrics and embellishments and colors and sleeve lengths as if nothing unusual at all had occurred.

If Isabel was honest, part of her was giddy at the notion of new gowns. At Fellsworth, she possessed no more than two at any given time, and never had she owned a gown that had not been worn by someone else.

But as excited as she was, she could not help feeling a bit guilty. For she did not have the funds to pay for new stockings, let alone new gowns.

Her aunt insisted that the gowns were a gift. Now that Isabel and Lizzie were residents of Emberwilde, they must look the part. But Isabel was not so sure, for her uncle's words about more mouths to feed weighed on her. She did not want to be a burden.

No, Isabel did not like relying on the kindness of others. For so many years she had strived to achieve self-sufficiency. And she had been doing so successfully. Or so she had thought.

As Mrs. Tindan began to drape a length of pink poplin over Isabel's shoulders, Isabel turned. “Really, Aunt, you needn't go to all this trouble. My gowns are fine, and I—”

“Your gowns are most definitely
not
fine!” Aunt Margaret exclaimed, her expression insulted. “Your mother was a Hayworth, and you are a Hayworth. No Hayworth should be seen in such a gown as yours. I mean no offense, for it was not your fault that you should find yourself in such a situation. It is one thing to wear it indoors, where no one but the servants will see you. It is another to be seen in public. It is bad enough that Mr. Bradford saw you, but that could not be avoided. No, no, no. It will not do.”

Isabel swallowed her surprise and scarcely heard the second half of her aunt's rant. “What situation do you mean?”

Aunt Margaret stood and approached Isabel with an uneven
gait, and when she was about a foot away, she reached out and took Isabel's cheeks in her hands and forced Isabel to look her in the eye.

Isabel stiffened.

“Your situation is a very serious one, and one that must be handled with great care, for the decisions you make in the coming weeks could very well shape your future. You are a beautiful young woman who will no doubt turn many heads. It is my duty to properly introduce you to society, to eventually find you a secure match, but above all to protect you from repeating the errors your mother made. I confess I do not know what you have been exposed to up until this point, but I will do for you what I could not do for my sister: shelter you from the predators who would steal you away from us again.”

Isabel's heart pounded in her chest, and she remained perfectly still until her aunt released her cheeks and was once again seated. The words were strong. Her aunt was clearly emotionally invested in her, but why with such forcefulness?

Ears still ringing with disbelief, Isabel straightened as the seamstress approached her with another length of yellow fabric and held it before her.

“Is this more to your liking?” the dressmaker asked, looking past Isabel to Aunt Margaret.

“Very much so,” her aunt replied, as calmly as if no discussion had taken place. “Let's use that to fashion an evening gown. Won't that be perfection?”

Isabel remained silent as she assessed the fabric with its shimmering lemon hue. Clearly, her opinion did not matter. This was her aunt's choice. Her aunt's game. Isabel was but a token to be played, a pawn to be moved about at will.

She could almost choke on the irony of her situation—for the most part she had been content at Fellsworth. But had not a part of her dreamed of living in such luxury? And now that she was here, was it preferable? Was she happier surrounded by such advantages?

She let her mind drift back to the foundling home. Seeing the children in the yard did touch her. It reminded her of Fellsworth and what she had been trained to do for the students there. Her offer to help at the foundling home had obviously shocked her aunt, and even Mr. Bradford. But at least she had made her desires known. Her aunt might be a strong, persuasive woman, but Isabel was strong too. Just because she had accepted the offer from her aunt did not give her aunt control over Isabel's life. And she would not give that away freely.

The seamstress gave the fabric to Isabel to hold, then turned to her trunk to fetch another sample.

Aunt Margaret motioned for Isabel to turn around. “While we are on the subject of evening gowns, there is something that I would like to discuss with you before the upcoming dinner party at the Atwells'.”

Isabel shook off her feelings of mistrust and faced her aunt, bracing herself. “Yes?”

“It is regarding your dowry.”

Dread soaked Isabel. This was a personal topic, one she was not ready to discuss.

But her aunt was determined. “Normally I would never encourage a lady to speak of such things so practically, but as we move forward, I must know the extent of your assets. Have you any?”

At this, Isabel could feel her chin drop. “No. I have saved a small amount from my wages at the school, but it is nothing of significance.”

“Do you have any other resources? Any property or possessions to your name? Or Elizabeth's name?”

Isabel shook her head.

“I thought not, especially knowing your father.”

The stab pained Isabel. Did her aunt even realize the curtness of her tone?

The air in the room grew heavy, thick, like the skies prior to a storm.

“Your uncle and I should be able to assist you in that regard. No niece of mine will be without a dowry. But I must remind you—you have been blessed with beauty. Hopefully you will have better sense of it than your mother did and use it to your advantage.”

Isabel was growing warm. Too warm. This conversation had taken a turn. No longer was this fitting a fun way to pass the afternoon.

Constance, as if sensing Isabel's mounting frustration, stood and crossed the room. She waved the dressmaker away and took the fabric from Isabel.

“Oh, Mother, she has not even met any of the young men in Northrop. There will be time enough to talk of dowries and such.”

Aunt Margaret did not seem to share the lighthearted tone. “She must be prepared, as must we all, if she is to need assistance.”

“Of course you are right, Mother. But there is no need to make such decisions today, especially when there are so many other things for her to focus on.” As Constance pivoted toward Isabel, a teasing smile graced her features. “Isabel, you showed interest in helping at the foundling home. Perhaps that would be a good use of your time. It is, after all, dear to all of us. Do you not agree, Mother?”

Encouraged by the fact that her cousin had heard her suggestion and seemed to have taken it seriously, Isabel seized her opportunity. “I know I could make a difference, and I would welcome the chance to contribute to a cause that is so dear to the Ellison family. I do not wish to be a burden, Aunt. I would be grateful to assist in some manner, regardless how small.”

Her aunt eyed her with suspicion, then seemed to relent. For how could she deny the importance of the foundling home? “I have always encouraged my girls to look beyond themselves. We shall discuss it in further detail at another time.”

As if signaling her desire to be done with the conversation, Aunt Margaret stood. “I do not know what this seamstress is about. I have asked several times now to see something in green. I suppose I must inspect the fabrics myself.”

Isabel's discomfort melted as her aunt retreated. She stepped off the dressing block and sat next to Constance. The late-afternoon sun slanted through the windows. Constance had such a calming effect. Her ability to defuse a situation was likely a result of a lifetime of practice—of being placed in a dozen such situations and having to handle them with grace.

Isabel turned to her cousin, eager to remove the focus from herself. “If I may ask, how long have you been engaged?”

“Of course you may ask!” Constance clasped her hands in front of her. “It is perhaps my favorite topic of conversation. The announcement was made a few months ago, but my fiancé is spending the spring months in Scotland at his family estate.”

“When will you marry?”

“As soon as Mr. Nichols agrees to a date. Mother says the sooner I am married, the better it will be. It is always best to secure a man before he has the opportunity to lose interest. Who knows what misfortune may fall to cause a gentleman to change his mind? But of course, you did not hear that from me.”

Her cousin spoke so matter-of-factly about the arrangement that Isabel wondered if she loved her intended.

Constance pinned her gaze on Isabel. “Are you not eager to marry?”

Isabel relaxed, finding it much easier to speak of such things now that her aunt's scrutiny was elsewhere. “I suppose I always wanted to marry. I guess it just never seemed like an option.”

“Why, that is the silliest thing I have ever heard! Mark my words, Isabel. You are so lovely, you will turn every head. If I were not already engaged I should be extremely jealous, but because I
am so happily situated, I think I shall throw all of my efforts into helping Mother find you a suitable match.”

Isabel gave a little laugh. “A suitable match does not sound very romantic.”

Constance threw her head back and laughed. “Romance is all very well, but hardly practical. We must each think of our own future. And yours, I believe, will be bright.

“So tell me.” Constance nudged Isabel's shoulder. “What did you think of Mr. Bradford? And be honest. My mother is too engrossed in the fabrics to listen.”

Isabel drew a deep breath. In truth, she had not been in his presence long enough to form an accurate opinion. “He seems very kind.”

“I feel he did not give a fair first impression, what with Mr. Galloway arriving as he did.”

Isabel recognized her chance to get the answers she was most curious about and lowered her voice. “Is that common, to have children just left about?”

Constance shrugged. “Common? Oh, I wouldn't say common. I think there have been a couple of children abandoned over the course of the year or so. Fortunately, the foundling home will see they are well cared for.”

Isabel cast her cousin a sideways glance. “And what of the Galloways? Are they friends of the family?”

“That is difficult to say. You will find we are a family divided on the Galloways. You see, Mrs. Lydia Galloway, the lady who accompanied Mr. Galloway today, was at one time one of my mother's dearest friends, although you would hardly know it from their interaction. And Mr. Colin Galloway was my brother, Freddie's, best friend. They spent every waking hour together when they were boys, and when it was time for them to go to university, they did so together, and then they joined the army at the same time. He was quite a member of our family. Mr. Galloway has a bit of an
interesting past. His father owned Darbenton Court, a small estate just on the outskirts of Northrop. The main house burned to the ground when he was but a child, and he was the only survivor.”

“Oh, that is terribly sad!” exclaimed Isabel.

“I would not feel too sad for him, for he has had an otherwise happy life in the care of his aunt and uncle. Even though they enjoy a lower status than his parents, he is the owner of all the land that once belonged to his father. He is actually one of the largest landowners for miles, but you would never know it. He lives in a tiny boardinghouse in town and is considered a little odd in his ways.”

Isabel frowned but did not ask her cousin to elaborate. He was not quite what he appeared to be, and this fact intrigued her.

Constance lifted a ribbon and studied it as she spoke. “Because of his status and the land he inherited, he was considered a suitable playmate for Freddie, and so he was here quite often.”

“If he was as a member of the family, why does Aunt Margaret stand in such judgment of him?”

“My mother blames Mr. Galloway for convincing Freddie to join the army, and she will never forgive him. You are probably not aware of the specifics, but Freddie was killed in a battle. My father does not share Mother's opinion, and you will see that Mr. Galloway and my father are still quite thick. After all, he is the magistrate and a strong figure in our small community. You can understand the dilemma.”

Constance's countenance brightened. “But now, let's not think of that. It was all a long time ago. The seamstress is almost done with her work. What do you say to a walk near the village? I am sure you are anxious to learn more about your surroundings, and it is a pleasant afternoon to be out of doors.”

Isabel could feel her shoulders relax. A few hours away from Emberwilde was just what she needed to clear her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he hour was quite late by the time Colin trudged over the High Bridge toward the Pigeon's Rest Inn.

The day had been a long one. After escorting his aunt to her cottage, Colin returned to Emberwilde. Ellison had been otherwise engaged, so Colin and the gamekeeper Harding had investigated the boys' claims of a man in the forest. They discovered nothing, but still, he was uneasy. From there he paid a visit to the Holden farm, to one of his tenants, and then to his cousin's office.

A late chill had settled over the village of Northrop, and a fine drizzle made it feel more like late November than early April. Colin repositioned his coat's soggy collar closer to his neck and pulled his wide-brimmed hat low over his eyes.

His rumbling stomach reminded him that he had missed Mrs. Daugherty's evening meal.

Again.

His landlady was particular about the hours she kept. She held the evening meal for no one. If the hour had not been so late, he would have been tempted to visit his aunt's house for a warm meal, but she would undoubtedly be asleep by now.

No, best stop by the Pigeon's Rest Inn. Besides, he was going to need help finding the parties responsible for the contraband hidden in the Emberwilde Forest, and the inn's proprietor, Robert McKinney, served as a constable.