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Authors: Sarah E Ladd
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right?
Ellison continued. “Then you will be in a position to marry, and your wife would be a very fortunate lady. I am, at the moment, out of daughters to marry off, but I can think of no one I would trust more with my niece.”
Colin chuckled. It would not end, he knew. Once Ellison got a notion in his head, it was not easily dislodged. “You sound just like my aunt. She has taken a sudden interest in my romantic pursuits.”
“And your aunt is a wise woman. She is right to urge you toward such things.”
“You do not even know your niece.”
“Bah. That is not needed. In fact, the less you know prior to marriage, the better. It would unite our family, much to my pleasure.”
“And Mrs. Ellison? She would hardly share your opinion.”
“No, she would not. But that would be on her, now, wouldn’t it?”
Ellison leaned over to pour himself another glass of port, then extended the glass to Colin. When Colin refused, Ellison poured the liquid down his own throat, then balanced the empty glass in his hand. “You have the benefit of time on your hands. I do not. I grow older by the day. But you, take advantage of these years.”
Chapter Seven
T he wind swirled outside Isabel’s chamber window, slamming bits of rain against the wavy glass. The storm had intensified as the evening progressed. Now, icy blows shattered the night’s usual silence, its whistles and howls inviting her mind to every manner of distraction. Despite her body’s cry for rest, she was sensitive and jumpy after her talk with her aunt, and she doubted her ability to calm down enough for sleep to rescue her.
In her chamber’s hearth, a dying fire hissed and popped as its flames licked the dry wood, perfuming the air with the scents of heat and earth. She’d never enjoyed her own fire in her own chamber. She should enjoy the luxury and let herself be wrapped in its obliging warmth, she thought, but instead, her tired eyes stared unblinking at the light. Isabel sat beside the fire, brushing out her hair.
Her awareness shifted to the statuesque goddesses carved into each side of the marble chimneypiece. The face of the goddess on the left was serene and angelic, her eyes downcast, in peaceful reverie, her gently curved smile frozen. But the goddess on the right, with her eyes fixed toward the heavens, appeared sorrowful, if not fearful. No doubt one more educated in Greek mythology would be able to ascertain the goddesses’ identities. Isabel ran her finger over the smooth curves of the frightened statue, marveling at the detail in the hair. The face.
Burns, the lady’s maid, cleared her throat. “If there is nothing else you need, miss, I will leave you to retire.”
Isabel had met Burns earlier that evening. Their exchanges were awkward at first. Isabel had never relied on anyone for daily assistance, with the exception of one of her chamber mates, who helped with her stays. It would take time to get used to having another person waiting on her in such a manner. This evening Burns had been so quiet tending to Isabel’s gown that Isabel had almost forgotten she was in the room.
Isabel stood. “Actually, there is one more thing. Do you think you could show me how this window opens?”
Burns’s eyebrows drew together in question. “But it is raining, miss.”
“I know, but the air feels a bit heavy, do you not think? It will be nice for the morning, when it stops. My aunt said you could smell the lilacs from here. Do you know if they are in bloom? I tried to open it earlier, but it was stuck.”
Burns fixed her small eyes on Isabel. “You’ll not be able to get that window open, miss. It’s been nailed shut.”
“Nailed shut?” Isabel frowned, turning to assess the window. “But why would someone nail a window shut?”
Burns draped Isabel’s black gown over her arm and smoothed the fabric. “It isn’t my place to say.”
Isabel’s curiosity was piqued. “Can we remove the nails?”
Burns averted her eyes,
Ellison continued. “Then you will be in a position to marry, and your wife would be a very fortunate lady. I am, at the moment, out of daughters to marry off, but I can think of no one I would trust more with my niece.”
Colin chuckled. It would not end, he knew. Once Ellison got a notion in his head, it was not easily dislodged. “You sound just like my aunt. She has taken a sudden interest in my romantic pursuits.”
“And your aunt is a wise woman. She is right to urge you toward such things.”
“You do not even know your niece.”
“Bah. That is not needed. In fact, the less you know prior to marriage, the better. It would unite our family, much to my pleasure.”
“And Mrs. Ellison? She would hardly share your opinion.”
“No, she would not. But that would be on her, now, wouldn’t it?”
Ellison leaned over to pour himself another glass of port, then extended the glass to Colin. When Colin refused, Ellison poured the liquid down his own throat, then balanced the empty glass in his hand. “You have the benefit of time on your hands. I do not. I grow older by the day. But you, take advantage of these years.”
Chapter Seven
T he wind swirled outside Isabel’s chamber window, slamming bits of rain against the wavy glass. The storm had intensified as the evening progressed. Now, icy blows shattered the night’s usual silence, its whistles and howls inviting her mind to every manner of distraction. Despite her body’s cry for rest, she was sensitive and jumpy after her talk with her aunt, and she doubted her ability to calm down enough for sleep to rescue her.
In her chamber’s hearth, a dying fire hissed and popped as its flames licked the dry wood, perfuming the air with the scents of heat and earth. She’d never enjoyed her own fire in her own chamber. She should enjoy the luxury and let herself be wrapped in its obliging warmth, she thought, but instead, her tired eyes stared unblinking at the light. Isabel sat beside the fire, brushing out her hair.
Her awareness shifted to the statuesque goddesses carved into each side of the marble chimneypiece. The face of the goddess on the left was serene and angelic, her eyes downcast, in peaceful reverie, her gently curved smile frozen. But the goddess on the right, with her eyes fixed toward the heavens, appeared sorrowful, if not fearful. No doubt one more educated in Greek mythology would be able to ascertain the goddesses’ identities. Isabel ran her finger over the smooth curves of the frightened statue, marveling at the detail in the hair. The face.
Burns, the lady’s maid, cleared her throat. “If there is nothing else you need, miss, I will leave you to retire.”
Isabel had met Burns earlier that evening. Their exchanges were awkward at first. Isabel had never relied on anyone for daily assistance, with the exception of one of her chamber mates, who helped with her stays. It would take time to get used to having another person waiting on her in such a manner. This evening Burns had been so quiet tending to Isabel’s gown that Isabel had almost forgotten she was in the room.
Isabel stood. “Actually, there is one more thing. Do you think you could show me how this window opens?”
Burns’s eyebrows drew together in question. “But it is raining, miss.”
“I know, but the air feels a bit heavy, do you not think? It will be nice for the morning, when it stops. My aunt said you could smell the lilacs from here. Do you know if they are in bloom? I tried to open it earlier, but it was stuck.”
Burns fixed her small eyes on Isabel. “You’ll not be able to get that window open, miss. It’s been nailed shut.”
“Nailed shut?” Isabel frowned, turning to assess the window. “But why would someone nail a window shut?”
Burns draped Isabel’s black gown over her arm and smoothed the fabric. “It isn’t my place to say.”
Isabel’s curiosity was piqued. “Can we remove the nails?”
Burns averted her eyes,
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