lady who is called to her death too soon.
It wasn’t at all a proper subject for a child, but Cecilia had been singing for the better part of an hour and had exhausted her supply of sweet lullabies. If Isabella minded the shift from lambs frolicking in meadows to grief and graveyards, she kept it to herself. Her big, hazel eyes followed the movement of Cecilia’s mouth, a smile on her pretty lips.
Shall I, who am a lady, stoop or bow
To such a pale-faced visage? Who art thou?
Do you not know me? I will tell you then…
Cecilia’s voice trailed off as she tried to recall the rest of the verse. “It’s something about conquering the sons of men, and…oh, yes. I have it. ‘No pitch of honor from my dart is free, my name is Death! Have you not heard of me?’”
“Me!” Isabella repeated, with a drowsy giggle.
Cecilia hummed the tune, her brow wrinkling. The music echoed as clearly in her head as if she’d last heard it only moments ago, but she could only recall the words in brief snatches, sung in a soft voice by a mother whose face she could no longer remember.
“I don’t like to spoil the ending for you, but death scorns the proud lady’s offer of bags of gold, inflicts the fatal wound, and hurries her off to her grave. It’s not a pleasant bedtime story, I’m afraid. I hope it doesn’t give you nightmares, Bella.”
It was rather presumptuous of her, really, to address the daughter of the house so familiarly, but she couldn’t bring herself to call the child Lady Isabella, much less her full name. It was a ridiculous number of syllables for such a tiny young lady.
Isabella, for her part, had accepted her new nickname cheerfully enough. The pettishness Cecilia had noticed this morning didn’t seem to be a natural feature of her temperament. She was a touch shy, and anxious from too much turmoil in her young life, but Cecilia saw signs of a sweet, even-tempered child underneath the fussiness. She seemed more apt to smile than frown, to laugh than cry, and she had a sunny, lopsided grin so charming it could melt the coldest of hearts.
The child’s eyes, though, were her most outstanding feature. Such an unusual hazel color, so bright and distinctive there was no overlooking them. They made Cecilia think of Lord Darlington’s eyes. Not the color, as his were blue, but the brightness of them, the way they dominated his every other feature.
The similarity ended there, though. Where Isabella’s eyes sparkled with life, Lord Darlington’s eyes were burdened with shadows and secrets.
Cecilia glanced down into Isabella’s sweet face. The big, hazel eyes had grown heavy as she hummed. “Ah, nearly asleep at last, and not a moment too soon.” A wry smile curved her lips. “The only other ballad I can remember is about a fairy that steals a child away while his mother is picking berries. Not at all the thing, I’m afraid.”
She continued to rock back and forth, Isabella’s warm body limp in her arms. She stroked her soft, golden-brown curls, watching her heavy, black eyelashes until they fluttered closed against her plump cheeks.
Once Isabella was asleep, Cecilia’s gaze wandered over to the cot that had been arranged against the wall on the other side of the fireplace. Amy slept there, on orders of the Marquess of Darlington, who insisted his niece never be left alone.
It was a strange arrangement, but it wasn’t the only strange thing about Darlington Castle. Perhaps whatever secrets Lord Darlington was hiding had addled his brain. A guilty conscience was a burdensome thing, wasn’t it?
What precisely he was guilty of, however, she still couldn’t say. Her subtle attempts to prod the servants for information had come to precisely naught. Lord Darlington had told her his servants didn’t tell tales outside the castle, but Cecilia had assumed they must tell tales to each other.
They didn’t. She’d never seen servants more loyal to their master. None of them had a bad word to say about the Marquess of Darlington. But no one could escape their sins forever, not even a marquess. They were part of him now, the secrets he hid woven into the very stone of these castle walls.
It was simply a matter of uncovering them.
Cecilia snuggled Isabella more securely against her and watched the firelight dance in the grate, the shadows flickering against the stone walls. Soon her eyelids began to grow heavy. She was just drifting off