The Gentle Wind's Caress (31 page)

‘It’s my house I will cause a scene if I bloody well wish to.’ Ethan’s voice had dropped to a menacing growl. ‘For God’s sake, Mama, let me live my life.’

Elizabeth lost all colour. ‘Is it my fault that I love you and want what is best for you?’

‘Isabelle is the best for me.’ Ethan sighed, dispirited. ‘Why can you not see it?’

‘You are married to Clarice!’

‘And Isabelle is having my child!’ he yelled.

Isabelle lowered her head, shutting out his mother’s amazed expression. Tears slipt over her lashes and she hurriedly dashed them away.

Slowly Elizabeth returned to her seat. ‘You foolish, foolish-’

‘Don’t, Mama!’

The pain on both the mother and son’s faces made Isabelle want to cry out in denial, to tell them she hadn’t meant for this to happen. ‘Ethan-’

He spun to her and the look of love in his toffee brown eyes rendered her speechless. Tenderly he touched her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘We’ll be together, I promise. Do you believe in me?’

‘I believe in you.’ She nodded, knowing it to be the truth and hating herself for being weak.

Chapter Eighteen

‘Well, Madam, do you like it?’ The seamstress stepped back and admired her work. ‘I do think the blue and white stripe is most becoming on you. Though, if I may say so, you’ve gained a small amount of weight since your last fitting.’

Isabelle grinned. Indeed the dress was a tight fit now, but Mrs Harris didn’t know a child was the reason not over-eating. Though under Ethan’s care, she had done plenty of that, too. She smoothed the linen material of the skirt. Four inches of white lace at her cuffs whispered with each movement. ‘I’m sure I’ll lose the pounds again, Mrs Harris.’

The older woman tutted and helped her down from the low standing stool. ‘Do you wish to change now?’

‘Yes, of course. If you would be so kind to assist.’ It was a little depressing to replace the beautiful blue and white dress for her mourning clothes again, but at least she now owned new black clothes instead of the old worn dress that had seen her through three funerals.

Once suitable to leave the room, Isabelle collected her umbrella and gloves. ‘You will have my clothes ready by next week, Mrs Harris?’

‘Absolutely, Mrs Farrell.’

‘Thank you. You have been very good. I am well pleased with my purchases.’

‘And everything you ordered today is to be billed to Bracken Hall as before?’ Mrs Harris’s bushy eyebrows shot up in question.

Isabelle sighed. Despite being in Halifax, a large town with enough gossip of its own, scandal, big or small, still made its way into the fashionable shops as fodder for bored wives. ‘Yes, thank you, just like my previous bill.’ She refused to elaborate further to satisfy Mrs Harris and her clients’ curiosity.

The older woman made a great show of tidying bolts of materiel on a wide table. ‘Are you spending the New Year at the Hall, Mrs Farrell?’

Isabelle faltered in donning her black fur-lined woollen coat, wondering if she should lie or not. It would give them all something to speculate about if they knew some half-truths. ‘I’m afraid not. I shall be sailing to Australia with my brothers next week. Hence my need for dresses made in lighter material. I’m told it is summer over there now.’ She wanted to giggle at Mrs Harris’s surprised expression.

‘You are certainly full of surprises, Mrs Farrell! Is your husband accompanying you?’

Her laughter faded abruptly. ‘Not this time.’ She headed for the door. ‘Good day, Mrs Harris.’

Leaving the backroom of the dressmaker’s shop, Isabelle adjusted the short lace veil on her black hat and headed straight for the carriage Ethan had left at her disposal, complete with his own driver, Brown. A man he trusted implicitly to care for her in Ethan’s place.

‘To the house please, Brown.’

She settled back against the leather seat and shivered and it had nothing to do with the coldness of the day. Any mention of Farrell sent her nerves jangling. In the two weeks since the fire, her husband hadn’t been seen or heard of. Ethan had people on the look out for him but so far had drawn a blank.

Thinking of Ethan put a tiny smile back on her face. Her life had changed again. The day after the fire, on leaving his mother and Hamish wordless at their reckless behaviour, Ethan had taken her in his carriage to a house he owned on the outskirts of Halifax. Later the boys joined her and it was to be their home until they sailed for Australia with Hamish.

Knowing their time together was limited they spent hours alone everyday, either going for drives in the countryside if the day was pleasant enough or they stayed at the house. Sometimes, Hughie and Bertie joined them to discuss the future, but most often than not, Ethan would give them money to spend in town with Brown as their protector.

After a discussion with Hamish, before he left for Edinburgh, it had been decided that she and the boys would travel with him to Australia and Ethan would join them as soon as possible once his business and estate concerns were in order.

Brown slowed the horses and they turned into a short drive. At the side of the red-bricked house, Isabelle alighted and Brown continued on to the small yard and stable block at the back.

Recent rain had littered the drive with wide puddles. Isabelle hitched up her skirts to navigate them and heard Ethan’s laughter.

‘Don’t you slip, my lovely. You look too delightful to be spoiled.’ He winked and helped her over the last remaining puddles.

She grinned at him. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until later.’

‘Inspecting mills compares poorly to spending time with you, my love.’ He kissed her soundly and led her inside the front door. ‘Did you enjoy your shopping?’

‘Yes. I’ve parcels arriving this afternoon for the boys. Things that they will need for the journey.’ She unpinned her hat and then peeled off her gloves. Placing them on the hall table she paused and glanced up the staircase. ‘I wonder where they’ve got to?’

Doris, the maid that Ethan had insisted she have, hurried along the hall from the back of the house, ready to assist her. ‘So sorry, Mrs Farrell, I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘It’s all right.’ Isabelle handed Doris her coat. The young, plump woman was a great find. Ethan had done well finding such a pleasant woman, whose sunny nature put everyone in a good mood.

‘You’ll be wanting a nice cup of tea, Mrs Farrell?’

‘Absolutely, Doris, I’m fair parched.’

Ethan stepped forward to whisper, ‘We’ll have some of your delicious macaroons too, if you have any.’

‘Certainly, sir.’ She grinned like a conspirator and bobbed her head before disappearing the way she came.

Ethan took Isabelle’s arm and they entered the small parlour. ‘Hamish took the boys off for the afternoon.’

‘Hamish? He’s back from Scotland already? I thought he was to arrive on the Monday before we sail?’

‘He returned earlier than expected, yes. Instead of meeting us in Liverpool, we’ll be all travelling together. Hamish mentioned it might be easier for us to say goodbye here rather than Liverpool, but I disagreed. I couldn’t miss the chance of spending a few more days with you before you embark.’ He stoked the fire into a more cheerful blaze and added more coal. ‘The man mustn’t have slept the entire time he was away so quickly did he attend to his concerns and return here. I believe he is very eager to return to Australia. It is more his home now than Scotland is.’

Excitement fluttered in Isabelle’s chest. ‘I am keen to see the country myself.’

Ethan took her in his arms. ‘Not too keen to leave me though?’

‘No, I’d never be that, my dearest one.’ She kissed him, but pulled away when Doris walked in with the tea tray.

Sitting down on the green sofa placed at right angles to the fire, Isabelle nodded her thanks to Doris and after the maid departed, poured out the tea. ‘How is your mother?’

Ethan sighed. ‘Barely talking to me, and, when she does speak to me she soon dissolves into tears.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ She added a lump of sugar to his tea, a drop of milk and then passed it to him. ‘She will miss you very much.’

‘I know, and I will miss her, but there is no alternative.’

‘No.’ Despite the warmth of the fire, she shivered. So much pain, so much upheaval and she was responsible. ‘And Clarice?’

‘She will have a house in London, as promised. I’m sending out enquiries this week.’

‘I am surprised that she won’t stay with your mother.’

Ethan shrugged. ‘Clarice prefers her own company and to not have to listen to Mama’s criticism, which once I leave will be directed at Clarice for failing to be a proper wife.’

‘Failure as a proper wife.’ Isabelle mused. ‘That is something that could be label on me.’

‘My love, your situation is far different.’

‘Is it though?’ She stirred her tea deep in thought. ‘Perhaps if I had-’

Ethan set down his teacup and saucer and enfolded her in his arms. ‘I won’t have you blaming yourself for his actions.’ He rubbed his nose against hers. ‘Farrell should never have married you.’

‘I shouldn’t have been so eager for a husband.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘Well, it is done with now and soon the boys and I will start a new life in a new country that will be complete once you have joined us.’

He gazed deep into her eyes. ‘Amen.’

A faraway look came into Ethan’s brown eyes and he stroked her stomach, which hinted at the life she carried. ‘My wish is to be by your side when our child is born.’

She cupped his cheek in her hand. ‘Then I suggest you hurry and complete your preparations.’

Taking her hand, he nibbled each finger in turn. ‘If all goes to plan I should sail a month after you.’

Isabelle leant her head against his shoulder. ‘I hope so for I hate to be without you.’

***

‘Do make haste, Bertie dear.’ Isabelle coaxed from the doorway. ‘The carriage will be here any moment.’

He looked up at her from where he knelt on the floor beside his small trunk, his big, pale eyes imploring. ‘I can’t fasten my trunk properly.’

She grinned and went to kneel beside him. ‘Could it be you have put too much in there?’

The slightest of smiles lifted his mouth. ‘Perhaps, but I didn’t want to leave anything behind.’

‘We won’t leave anything behind, don’t worry.’ Isabelle lifted the lid and raised her eyebrows at the assortment of treasures on top of his folded clothes. Ethan had bought most of them for him. Picture books, drawings, a spinning top, a case of chalk, a ball, the kite Bertie and Hughie made last week, string and a small bag of marbles.

He gently touched his belongings. ‘I’ve never had so many things before.’

Remembering the day he arrived at the farm with her father, she realised that he’d only ever had the clothes on his back. She ruffled his hair and then smoothed it back down. His endearing shyness reminded her so much of Sally it hurt her heart and she loved him for it. Though he looked nothing like Sally, for Sally was the image of her mother, they did share the same nature, which was even more surprising since she would never have believed it came from their father. The family had always assumed Sally’s quiet, studious nature had been a gift from their mother.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Bertie’s whisper penetrated her wonderings.

‘My family. The family I’ll be leaving behind in a graveyard in Halifax.’

‘And it makes you sad.’ He slipped his hand into hers.

She gazed down at their joined hands. His was so small, so fragile. He was such a thin boy. No matter how much she fed him, he remained as slender as a reed. Protectiveness overwhelmed her. She was all he had in the world and it frightened her. If anything happened to her Hughie and Bertie would be alone. She would have to speak to Ethan and beg him to promise her that he would take care of them should she die.

‘Belle?’ Bertie whispered. ‘I’ll look after you. I’ll never leave you. I promise.’

She gathered him to her and held him tight. ‘We’ll promise to look after each other. Yes?’

He nodded and she felt his body relax. This brother of hers was so sensitive and no wonder, having lost both mother and father so early in his life.

Hughie burst into the room, so full of energy he couldn’t contain. ‘The carriage is here!’

‘Oh, good.’

‘Brown’s kept it out on the road as it’s so large won’t fit in through the gate.’

‘Come, help Bertie with his trunk while I speak with Brown about the luggage.’ Isabelle got to her feet and left the room, smiling as Hughie whined about Bertie overfilling his trunk.

Outside, she greeted Brown, who waited for her on the footpath, and marvelled at the size of the carriage, pulled by four glossy black horses. A groom sat up in the driver’s seat holding the reins. ‘We’ll have no trouble fitting our baggage on this, Brown.’

‘No, indeed, Mrs Farrell.’

She peeked inside the carriage window. ‘Did Mr Harrington not come?’

‘No, madam, he told me to tell you that there was a problem at one of his mills, a fire, I think. He said he’ll be at Bracken Hall by the time you arrive.’