Thomas, the younger Wittier son, was Isabella’s equal in age and always of much entertainment to her, so she quickly grouped herself with his friends as soon as Alex disappeared. Now she was very much a part of their set, and she naturally gravitated towards their company upon her arrival at Lady Courtenall’s estate. She even fancied there might be a young man among the group who would suit her for a husband. One such man was Thomas’ particular friend, Joseph Wheetley, who was gifted with a mild intellect, mild manners, and mild pecuniary worth. If Isabella was forced to think of one adjective to describe him, she would have called him ‘mild.’ Her cousin, on the other hand, was boisterous and lively, very different from his elder brother, who seemed at any moment ready to doze off from boredom. The reason for Thomas having such a ‘mild’ friend, such as Joseph, was juxtaposition. By juxtaposing his humor and vivacity with Joseph’s calm exterior, he figured that he brought about the most favorable of comparisons; Thomas always sought to be as well liked as possible, because he suffered from a younger son complex, which his brother, of course, never labored under. Therefore, Gerald did no work to impress anyone, and thought everyone should try to impress him instead.
Truthfully, Joseph thought nothing of Miss Bloomingfield, because he was completely disinclined to marry at the moment, being too practical to make any rash decisions. So, his attentions were merely a form of flattering his friend, who was obviously extremely fond of his cousin and extremely pleased by the attention his friends bestowed upon her. It was not as if Miss Bloomingfield lacked admirers, she was simply too modest to understand where the core of them truly lay, which was not among the young and mild.
Her attraction lay neither in money or title, for she had none, nor did it lay in her intelligence and wit, although she had plenty of both. Instead, her youth and attractiveness were her main selling points in regards to catching a husband, and these qualities were best appreciated by people somewhat removed from beauty and youth themselves. While the young men flocked to Isabella’s side and waxed poetic about her charms, there were other young beauties to be had as fleeting distractions. But for the old, she had an appeal that outstripped these other attractive young ladies: everyone knew she could not live on her own, so that she must marry and soon, or all her hopes would be lost. She could be counted on to see the merits in a secure older man, whereas other young girls might not. So, while she sang at the piano and was accompanied by a young man, or played tennis with a handsome partner, or danced with a dashing fellow, none other than Sir Trenton was observing her.
Sir Trenton was no fool, and once his fancy was caught he turned to Lady Courtenall, who he knew would further his advances in a most easy manner. Therefore, Isabella soon found herself seated by Sir Trenton at every dinner and offered to her as a dancing partner in the informal gaieties of the evenings. After a few days had passed in such a manner, she soon began to meet with him by chance in the gardens, where he would whisk her away from Thomas and her other friends. She was stunned by these attentions, but her shock soon turned towards understanding. Nothing could prevent her from appreciating the promise of such an ‘alliance,’ or so she thought, until Alex made an unannounced appearance in her life once more.
Alex arrived the second week, as he had informed Lady Courtenall he would. He had almost decided against coming, but he had received a letter from Gerald himself, begging him to join him at the estate. Gerald made so few demands on his friend that Alex felt as if he must honor his request. Gerald was his oldest companion, dating back to the time when they were young boys at Eton through their years at Oxford, and even now Alex could think of no other gentleman for whom he would rather break his solitude.
He arrived midday when most of the young people were playing lawn tennis, but Gerald was lounging in a chair, observing from some distance, when he saw his good friend come striding from the stables up towards the house. Gerald put down his drink in order to shake Alex’s hand. "Good to see you here, my man! What’s kept you away so long? Admit it, you’ve been scarce for weeks now." Alex drew up a chair and was about to begin conversing easily as he always did with Gerald when he thought he caught sight of Isabella playing lawn tennis across the way. With her richly dark tresses set against the bright white tennis dress, she was unmistakable.
"Is that your cousin over there?" Alex did not fully trust himself to utter her name. "Yes it is actually. She has become a master at this game. She invited me to play a set with her, but I can’t stand the stuff. Who would play a tiresome game when you could be out hunting? Of course now that you’re here I’ll have someone who will actually join me, I hope." "Yes, yes…" he answered distractedly.
"You know, Evelina was also remarking yesterday that she saw nothing of you. I’m beginning to wonder if you’re avoiding our family altogether." Gerald meant this comment in jest, but the inherent truth made Alex sigh loudly and flop back in his chair. "Shall I be truthful with you, Gerald?" "I should hope so." "I’ve asked your cousin to accept my proposal and she has refused me…flat out." Gerald sat forward in his chair, seemingly truly awake for what may have been the first time in years. "Bella? You asked Bella to marry you?" "Yes, yes, I did…a few months ago, and I’ve made myself scarce since then, it’s true." "By God! I can’t believe it!" "What? That I would make her an offer?" Alex said, prepared to defend himself. "No, not at all. I’ve believed that to be imminent for years."
Alex was somewhat shocked: he had never thought anyone was aware of the feelings he had harbored. "You have?" "Certainly. And I thought Bella inclined similarly, but she has refused you? Well, that makes this all the more understandable, I suppose." "And what is that? I haven’t been able to make sense of the whole mess." "It seems as if Sir Trenton has been making overtures towards her, my man," Gerald said with a look of concern evident on his face. Alex could not immediately respond. "I had thought you were done with our Bella, which would have explained your finding no time for me or the rest of us…and I thought she was done with you, which I’m sorry to say she must be." "Must she?" Alex asked bleakly. "Tonight, watch Trenton. It can’t be otherwise I’m afraid." "And she…she loves him?"
"Bella is a darling. All of us love her, Father, Thomas, Evelina, and certainly myself. Hell, I’d marry Bella myself…I’d probably be mad in love with her had she not been my cousin and as dear to me as a sister since I was a boy, but if she doesn’t care for you…well then, you have to move on Reginald. There is plenty of time to be married and heaps of girls desperate to be married, so I wouldn’t worry much about it."
Isabella began walking up the slope towards the grand house backlit against by the sun. Thomas was at her side and Joseph had her by the arm. Sir Trenton had finally left the side of the tennis courts and she was once again alone with people her own age with whom she did not have to fake a quiet obedience around. "That old Trenton finds much entertainment in you, Bella," Thomas said laughing. "Stop, I don’t wish to defame Sir Trenton." "No, of course you don’t, Bella, but be careful: you shall break many hearts!" As he said this, one heart was breaking, but not Joseph’s as Isabella privately anticipated: Alex stood in the doorway to the house, watching their approach. If it was not too much to have heard the words Gerald spoke and seen Trenton hovering about his Bella most of the afternoon, then surely this young man with his arm intertwined with his dearest was too much to bear.
Without quite knowing what motivated him, he burst from the doorway, trying to assume an ease and confidence in his walk as he strode towards the trio that approached. Isabella was unaware of him until he nearly knocked them down. "Miss Bloomingfield, Thomas," he had planned on saying more, but nothing else came out. "Reginald, my man," Thomas said clapping him on the back. "I’d thought you’d run away to the islands." "I’ve been busy." Thomas laughed, "and so have we. As you must have seen we spend our days here most seriously employed. Do you know Wheetley?" "I don’t believe so," Alex said, turning to address Joseph, "but then I do think I know your older brother." Joseph turned red at the inference. Joseph’s brother had been forced to leave of Oxford, embarrassing the entire Wheetley family, especially Joseph, who as a result was not accepted at the university. Alex was usually not so cruel, but his passions awakened a most unpleasant side of his character. This was all lost on Isabella, who was trying in vain to look indifferent to Alex’s abrupt appearance.
"Then you’re staying?" Thomas said jovially, glad to have the old family friend once again a part of the group. "Yes, I’ll be here until the end of next week. Are you glad then?" he asked of Isabella, raising his eyebrows almost to mock her. "Je ne pourrais pas m'inquiéter moins," she said with some bite to her address, refusing to meet his eye. She was angry because he had barely addressed her and called her ‘Miss Bloomingfield,’ so now she was returning the favor. "Bella, why must you use that infernal language? I barely understand you, and it was not long ago our countrymen were dying over there." Thomas had no deep sympathies for those who had died in France, but he hated to miss out on any bit of conversation. "Miss Bloomingfield follows the popular fashion, I believe," Wheetley timidly put forth, still stinging from Alex’s comment. Alex knew that Isabella thought French rather charming and often used it to be charming herself or in moments of emotion; he had always supposed she did so out of some delightful novelistic pretension.
"I’m sure you’re welcome to join our hunting party tomorrow," he said addressing Thomas, unable to think of any response for Isabella. "Ah, Gerald got to you then? No, I’m not going to go hunting tomorrow, if I can help it. I have plans here to play tennis with Bella and a few other young ladies," he said with a broad smile. "Tennis? Is that all anyone does here?" Alex asked turning and beginning to walk back to the house with them. "Don’t you like tennis, Mr. Reginald?" Isabella asked with some irony. "I haven’t played in some time. I’d rather be hunting." "The ladies enjoy these games so much more though," Wheetley pointed out to Reginald. "I don’t much care, seeing as the ladies have never gone hunting with us anyway. It seems as if we spend enough time catering to the ladies’ wishes." And with that they entered the house, parting to dress for dinner.
The Lure of New and Old Acquaintances
Isabella had thought herself safe, but upon seeing Alex again, she knew herself not to be safe at all: she was just as much in love with him as she ever was, and when that had begun she knew not. Isabella’s father had died before she could even remember and her mother had died when she was eight, at which time she was taken in by her maternal aunt and her uncle Wittier, who raised her much like their own.
Alex’s mother had died during childbirth and his father was an officer in the army until he was killed in action when Alex was just four years old. Alex had not known either of his parents, and he had been raised by a number of different rich relatives who eventually pooled together their resources to send him to Eton and Oxford and provide him with an allowance to make it possible for him to run with good society.
Gerald had gone off to Eton and brought back this playfellow that was in such a similar situation to her own that she immediately felt drawn to him, and when she looked back, she thought perhaps that she had loved him even then in an innocent trusting child-like way. She could still recall the holiday that Alex came to spend with them, having been invited by Gerald. He was nearly four years her elder, but he was extremely kind to her, showing her as much care as the other Wittier boys. Yet, he had been very different from them as well. For one, he did not pat her on the head like she was a doll, instead he acted as if she had the most interesting things to say; he made her feel like someone of some importance. Looking back with an adult’s perspective, Alex’s attitude towards her did not seem so strange: he was an only child without any younger sisters, and she was something of a novelty. Coupled with his complete lack of feminine relations, he was drawn towards her as a stunning little version of a lady. After that initial introduction when she had been but a young girl, he had been in and out of the Wittier’s house ever since.
Seeing him now, even though she had known him for years, still sent a little shiver down her spine. Isabella and her cousins were marble skinned raven haired creatures with bright blue eyes, but this young man was of a slightly darker complexion with bright cheeks and thick dark brown hair tinged with the darkest red she had ever set eyes on. Even his eyes, which were hazel, were so large and engaging that they seemed to Isabella unequaled. His appearance always held a deep fascination for her, no matter how many gentlemen she met with in life. There was something about Alex that had touched her so long ago that she knew it always would.
But now he had just been very disagreeable. ‘I deserve it,’ she told herself over and over. ‘He thinks wrongly that I’ve ruined him. He doesn’t understand that I’ve spared him.’ Somehow her reasoning did not make the pain of his attitude any less stinging. First, he had been so cold in his address towards her. Then he had made Joseph Wheetley uncomfortable with his comment about Wheetley’s older brother (that much was obvious), although Isabella knew not why. She had never known Alex to be cruel. Thomas would occasionally make sport of someone, and Isabella always laughed being a lighthearted sort of girl, but she would never expect something like that from Alex; from him it was odious, and she had sensed that she was the cause of his anger. Then he had made the ridiculous comments about hunting and tennis. She knew he always had enjoyed hunting, but now he was acting as if he had never played tennis, or only done so to amuse her, for they had spent hours and hours in previous summers merrily playing lawn tennis together as exclusive partners. Isabella fought back tears as she finished dressing; nothing would ever be as happy and good as it once had been.
As she made her way down the grand staircase, she felt pangs of grief. She had done all of this for the both of them she reasoned, but now it seemed as if their situation was bringing out the worst in Alex. She feared that Sir Trenton’s attentions would only bring him more pain. She had wanted to believe that Alex could not seriously be in love with her, but now she truly worried for the safety of his heart. If she had unfairly led him to this point, she much regretted her ever being too forward with him. Yet, it had not been until recently that she had come to the realization that she would one day have to fend for herself and Alex would have to do the same even sooner. Better for the both of them if they overcame their feelings.
Lady Courtenall had seated Isabella next to Sir Trenton, as usual, but seated on her other side was a man as of yet unknown to her, new to the party, and to society as far as Isabella was aware of. Isabella quickly scanned the table to ascertain where Alex was sitting, not only to see whether he would be constantly confronted with Sir Trenton and herself, but also to find out by whom Lady Courtenall had seen fit to seat him. Alex was some four places down, opposite from Isabella, unfortunately affording a perfect view. Sitting on Alex’s side closest to Isabella was her cousin, Evelina, which was no surprise, but on the other side sat a young girl whom Isabella had never seen in company before. Isabella tried to attend to Sir Trenton, but she found Alex and his companion a very distracting item, when just a few moments before she had worried whether Alex would be the one who would be distracted.
Isabella must have been blatantly staring when her new neighbor turned to introduce himself: "I believe you are Miss Bloomingfield. We have not yet had the good fortune to be introduced." Isabella pried her eyes away and nodded her head smiling. "And you are?" "Robert Kentington. I thought perhaps you had noticed my sister," he said looking back in the direction of Alex and the young girl. "I…I have never seen her in company, pray excuse me for being so rude. You must think very ill of me." He turned his attention back on Isabella. "No, not at all. I myself have been staring at you all this while waiting for you to notice me. I cannot condemn the fault in others."
Isabella blushed and looked down at her plate. "My sister is new to society; she is sixteen, but then we are both very new to your société." Isabella summoned her courage and looked back up to meet Mr. Kentington’s gaze. "How is that? I don’t suppose you are sixteen as well, Mr. Kentington," Isabella said with a laugh. "No…no indeed. My sister and I have spent our lives in India until this point. So, you must forgive me, if I seem awkward at this," he said gesturing with his hand indicating all of society. "I would have never guessed. And pray, why were you brought up in India? I don’t believe that I’ve ever met anyone who has lived there."
The unknown always intrigued Isabella and she began to give Mr. Kentington her undivided attention, inspecting him more closely. His hair was a light blond made more striking by his sun darkened skin and pale blue eyes. His body seemed well formed and athletic. Isabella imaginatively began assigning all of these qualities to the effects of India. "My father is a Colonel in the King’s army in India. He has retired though, and we are now all back in England…for the first time in many years." "I am afraid I will show my ignorance on this subject, but would you tell me some time about India? It intrigues me greatly. Could we not speak over tea about it? I would very much enjoy such a tête-à-tête." "Indeed! I shall make time for it immediately. Tomorrow perhaps?"
Sir Trenton leaned over, interrupting out of desperate need, he believed: "Miss Bloomingfield is engaged to spend the afternoon with me, I’m afraid." Isabella was a little shocked at Sir Trenton’s behavior, not realizing what a potential threat a younger man’s advances posed to someone like Sir Trenton. "Yes…that is true, but I am free the next day. Make time for me then, if you will, Mr. Kentington."
Later that evening they engaged in cards, music, and dancing. Alex continued to keep watch over Isabella, as he had during all of dinner. At first he was surprised by her cool conduct towards Sir Trenton, quickly noticing that she was looking his way more than anywhere else, but once she became engaged with that other man, she had lost all interest in his actions. The young lady next to him, Caroline Kentington had mentioned that this unknown gentleman was her older brother, but otherwise he knew nothing of him. Alex hated everyone in the room, since their presence was preventing him from discussing private matters with Isabella and knowing her mind, to which once he previously and frequently had been privy. He was standing amongst some other gentlemen, but could barely make himself civil. Angry with himself for being so unmanaged, he began to stalk out of the room, when Miss Kentington touched his arm and begged his pardon.
"How can I help you, Miss Kentington?" "After speaking with you at dinner, I think you are just the sort of man my brother would like to meet. If you would be so good, I would like to introduce you to him." Alex thought it might be enlightening to meet this man, whom Isabella found so incredibly enthralling. "Of course, that is very kind of you."
He took Miss Kentington’s arm and she led him towards her brother, who was standing with Isabella quite distinct from everyone else. She had been occupied with Sir Trenton ever since the dinner was over, but thankfully he had left to go to bed early and Mr. Kentington had quickly taken his place. As they approached Isabella locked eyes with Alex and began to color.
"Dearest sister!" Mr. Kentington exclaimed. "I was just telling this new friend how much I should like her to meet you." "And I have come over for the same purpose, Robert." "Miss Bloomingfield, may I have the pleasure of presenting my sister, Caroline Kentington." Isabella took the girl’s hand, noting how small she was. Even the girl’s hands seemed in miniature. She was not regrettably small, only what seemed like a perfect imitation of a grown woman, and an extremely attractive woman at that. Her hair was light blond like her brother's and it perfectly framed her tiny face with its perfectly bright blue eyes and perfectly pink rose shaped mouth and elegant straight nose. She reminded Isabella of a fashion doll in store window: her miniaturized clothes being just the right shade of dusty rose to bring out her healthy complexion and just the right trimmings and cut to indicate the latest in styles. Isabella had to control a mounting hatred for the girl.
"How very nice to meet you, Miss Bloomingfield." "So glad to have made your acquaintance, Miss Kentington," Isabella said smiling, but her discomfort increased as she began to wonder if she did not look ludicrously large next to the girl. "Robert, this is Mr. Reginald and I just had to bring him over to meet you. I think you should be very good friends." Out of anyone else’s mouth, her words would have sounded false or affected, but her sweet countenance made them breathe with sincerity. "And Miss Bloomingfield are you acquainted with Mr. Reginald?" she asked raising her delicately arching golden eyebrows.
Isabella turned to look at Alex once more and put out her hand: "Alex and I have been friends since we were children. Have we not?" Alex pressed her hand, hating to release it. "Yes, yes we have, Isabella." "How marvelous!" Miss Kentington exclaimed. "Then tomorrow we must all go together on a lake party. For I’ve heard there is nothing finer to do here than a lake party." "Miss Bloomingfield and I have plans for the day next. Perhaps we could postpone our lake party until then, if of course, Mr. Reginald would be willing?" "Yes, that should be…most enjoyable."
