physical passion? It was a revolutionary idea. Briefly, she lost herself in wondering what Sir Alexander would have done if she had thrown her arms around him and…
The bell pealed below, shattering her agreeable visions, and soon after Tess ushered in Lady Isabella. Charlotte hadn’t expected her to come here, so far from fashionable haunts. Indeed, she’d thought Lady Isabella would drop the connection altogether. It had been a pleasant surprise to receive a note from her. The older woman settled on the sofa. “I came to urge you to accompany me to a rout party on Thursday.”
Charlotte thought that she’d really come out of curiosity, to see the place and her household. But she didn’t mind. “That’s very kind of you.”
“My dear, Edward would never forgive me if I did not bring you along.”
She’d seen no evidence of special concern from Edward. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosy. “I’d be delighted to go.”
Lady Isabella looked around the room as if it were a savage’s hut. “Should anyone ask, we shall tell them what a terrible eccentric Henry was. A scholar and an eccentric.” Her tone made the two words synonymous. “He buried himself—and you, of course—out here in the… hinterlands. Like a, a hermit. What could you do? But now you have been… rescued.” She smiled triumphantly.
Why need they tell anyone anything, Charlotte wondered? Then she saw that it was a story to tell. Lady Isabella lived on stories, most of them scurrilous. Yes, she was a gossip. But she seemed to relish the telling as much as the malice. And she could say much worse about Henry; Charlotte didn’t care.
Tess brought tea, and Lady Isabella chattered, reviewing all the current on dits of society. When she mentioned something about her youth, Charlotte couldn’t resist her curiosity. “Sir Alexander spoke of your parents the other day.”
Her caller bridled. “I can imagine the kind of thing he said. Alec always despised Mama.”
“He was talking of his childhood.”
“He was the most priggish child. I suppose he told you she was dreadful?”
“Uh…”
“She was beautiful as an angel, you know. My father fell in love with her the moment he saw her.” She laughed. “At church, if you can believe it! She was the daughter of a bishop.”
Lady Isabella looked at Charlotte as if to share a great irony. Uncertain what to say, Charlotte smiled at her.
“Their parents weren’t pleased. Both sides were hoping for matches that brought much more money. But there was really nothing to object to; they came from the same class and background. And they… overbore all opposition.”
“Like a fairy tale,” said Charlotte, very curious as to how this tale connected with Sir Alexander’s very different view.
“Well, they had a lovely wedding, in the cathedral. Mama used to talk about it often.” Lady Isabella shrugged. “Fairy tales don’t talk about afterward, do they?”
“No.” Nobody mentioned the disasters that could follow a walk down the aisle.
“They were matched in good looks.” Lady Isabella glanced toward the mirror over the mantel. “It’s an odd thing; none of us is nearly as handsome as our parents. The combination didn’t… take. Well, in any way, really.” She shrugged. “From the smallest thing to the largest, they disagreed.”
Charlotte merely looked inquiring. Lady Isabella seemed launched on a flood of reminiscence, and Charlotte was too interested to stop her.
“Mama couldn’t bear opposition of any kind. It was her nature; contradiction drove her wild. And society made her giddy with nerves.” She made an airy gesture. “The only thing that calmed her was brandy and laudanum. Just a bit, you know, mixed together. But as time passed, it began to take more and more. I’ve heard that is common.” Her tone was strangely dispassionate.
Charlotte felt she was hearing too much. “I didn’t mean to pry, Lady Isabella. Please do not feel…”
But her guest seemed to have forgotten Charlotte’s presence. “She always told me I was all she had—her only daughter, you know. I was hers, more than the boys. She’d call me to her rooms and tell me everything. Sometimes, she would weep and rage for hours. They had to remove all the ornaments because she threw them.”
Charlotte’s view of Lady Isabella Danforth was changing by the moment. “That must have been frightening.”
“One learned to duck,” was the odd reply. “It was like a game. We didn’t have so many games.” A sly smile curved her lips. “She used to send me out dressed as a boy.”
“As a…?”
“There was a… fellow nearby who sold brandy. Well, I