Evelina and Isabella were playing a card game in the parlor. The window faced the street, and as it was a nice day, Isabella had thrown the window open to catch the breeze when they entered the room. Evelina was in high spirits, having won two of their three games and Isabella found her enthusiasm contagious, despite her own losses. Outside in the street there was the sound of horses’ hooves clattering and stopping on the stones in front of their house, and Evelina paused in her laughter for a moment. "Who could that be?"
It was a Saturday afternoon and little traffic was passing through the street in their residential area of London. Isabella for a fleeting moment thought of Sir Trenton returning to receive her answer and her heart stood still. The door could be heard opening in the main hallway and both girls stood up and attempted to peer around the door of the parlor. They could barely make out voices. "I was not expecting visitors. Were you?" Evelina asked her cousin. "No, not at all." Then the door was pushed wide open and Thomas strode into the room, followed by Alex, who stood somewhat back from the happy reunion.
"We’re back early then, and what do you think of that?" Thomas asked cheerfully. "Well, we’re glad of it of course!" Evelina said going to embrace Alex after having done the same with her brother, forgetting during the previous weeks that she might have cause to be angry with Alex, if he had quarreled with her cousin, as she suspected. Isabella received a kiss on the cheek from Thomas, but did not have the strength to go to Alex, being overwhelmed by the sight of him. Alex was feeling much the same, when Thomas did the unthinkable and left them alone: "Evelina, little one, come out and see what I’ve brought home for you," he said pulling her out of the room. Alex made himself step forward and put out his hand. Instead of placing her hand in his like a civilized person, Isabella began to feel as if she would cry and turned away.
"Isabella, I knew you when tears weren’t to be hidden, why should they be now?" he quietly asked, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Shall I leave?" She shook her head ‘no.’ "Do you remember the time when one of Mrs. Powder’s kittens died?" Isabella turned her head to face Alex, silent tears running down her face. "You remember?" "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, well, I was there when Gerald told you, and I’ve never seen such tears." "And you ran off to find me your handkerchief…" "Because I never carried it with me."
Without thinking, Alex wiped at her cheeks, drying them of her tears, which abruptly stopped flowing. "Would you like to know why we are back early?" Alex asked with a smile. Isabella thought she had not seen him smile in quite a while, and it was once so common. "Why?" "Because Thomas said I was a bore! He said he had never known me to be so unbearable!" Isabella laughed, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "That was very bad of him. I shall scold him for it. I’m sure you could never be a bore." "No, he was quite sure of it--the Continent was a bore and I was a bore. So, here we are."
He had been taking in every small detail of her since he had entered the room: the way her dark hair hung down her back in thick waves in the new style of the day, the way her mouth was so delicate and expressive in everything she said, the tilt of her head when she spoke, the sparkle in her bright blue eyes even when they were full of tears, the curve of her neck, the pale creamy quality of her skin, and the graceful nose that was long but narrow, utterly perfect. She was matchless and always had been in his mind, nothing could change that, since her perfection went beyond anything physical. Now that he had drank in every bit of her, he felt like he could relax and his body let go of some of the tension he had been carrying around like a stone. After all, she had laughed: was that not a good sign? Perhaps there was some hope.
"I’ve missed you, Alex," she said, holding out her hand, trying to make amends for her previous outburst. He took it. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, praying she would accept. "Certainly, yes, that would be lovely." So they went out the front door and down the stone steps to the streets of London, where Thomas was showing Evelina the great gift he had brought back for her. It was a grand painting, which was now partially unwrapped on the sidewalk. Alex and Isabella paused to admire it. "So, what do you think, Bella?" "Well, it is lovely, but I didn’t think either of you had much interest in art." Indeed the gift had puzzled Alex at first as well, but Evelina did seem truly pleased as she clapped her hands and continued to pull at the brown paper surrounding the piece of art within the straw filled crate. "Careful, Evelina, we must get it inside first," her brother cautioned her. "When I saw it, I knew I must buy it for my dear sister. It couldn’t be left behind in France. Do you not guess why?" Isabella peered from under her parasol, trying to make her best guess. "I couldn’t say." "I couldn’t say either, until I was told," Alex added. "Well then, I’ll tell you, but you’re both rather dim. It’s the peacocks!"
Now Isabella noticed the peacocks gracing the bottom left of the picture. The painting was a French country scene with a grand house and grand gardens in the bottom left. She smiled. "That was rather clever of you, Thomas." Alex pointed at the painting and gestured to Evelina, "I thought it silly, thinking she would have no such fascination any longer." "Oh but you’re wrong!" she cried clapping her hands once more. "I simply love it, and I want it hung in my apartment immediately. I’ll gaze at it and laugh and tell everyone about my peacocks." Isabella had to admit that the peacocks were faithfully done and added a very elegant quality to the painting, but it was more amusing if the background was known.
Mr. Wittier had a soft spot for his daughter, and when she was no more than five years old she had seen a peacock feather in a lady’s hat and become so infatuated that he decided to buy the child not just a peacock feather, but a peacock. He had it brought to their country home outside of London, where it soon became Evelina’s most prized possession, unlike her older cousin, who preferred kittens, pups, and ponies, like most young girls. Over the years they had perhaps collected more peacocks than anyone else in England, and visitors to their home always thought it a rather strange, although beautiful sight. The peacocks were a tribute to Evelina’s youthful command of the household.
"Should we go then?" Alex asked, raising his eyebrows, rather eager to be alone once again with his Isabella. "Are you off somewhere?" Thomas asked. For a moment Isabella thought Thomas might invite himself along. It would not have been unusual for him to have done so and previously she would not have minded in the least, but now Isabella did not wish to share. She was unaware of the fact that Thomas had been entered into Alex’s confidence shortly after his declaring that Alex was a complete bore, and now he was Alex’s co-conspirator. "We thought we would go for a walk," Alex answered. Isabella noticed that he made no attempt to invite her cousins along. "Well, don’t keep Bella out too late," Thomas said laughing. Evelina added while they turned away: "perhaps you’ll get to see the painting hung when you come back!"
They began walking in the direction of the small corner park three blocks away. Alex did not speak his intention of leading her there, but it was what Isabella assumed, since they used to spend some time there when it what a nice day in town. "Well," Isabella began, "no matter the reason why you’re back, I’m glad of it. I don’t want there to be any strain between us, Alex." Alex agreed, but he checked his urge to tell her that there would always be a strain between them if she continued on the course she had set for them.
Right now he wanted to be agreeable, instead of sullen and moody, as he had been at Lady Courtenall’s. He knew now that he would never win her over by behaving as poorly as he had. "Neither do I, Isabella. Will you forgive me for my behavior before? It was unpardonable." Isabella was somewhat surprised at Alex’s easy concession. "Of course…I could forgive you anything. We’re too old of friends to be so easily parted." That was on what Alex was placing his hope.
"I hope that your uncle is doing well." "Yes, indeed he is, but he is very busy this time of year with Parliament in session. I’m sure you know that. Gerald just dreads the prospect, I’m afraid." "Oh, but he shall like it. He likes the odd things in life, and that is certainly an odd arena. Have you ever gone to listen to your uncle?" "Not for some time, but then I’m afraid that Gerald has somewhat put me off the whole thing." "He likes to exaggerate. I think you might find it interesting." "Truly?" "You always seem to have rather strong opinions, and that is the place for them." Isabella laughed: "you pay me no compliments upon your return. I should not like many men to know that I have strong opinions, as you say!"
"Well, perhaps not, but I meant it as a compliment. You are not stubborn and therefore strong opinions only mark strength of character and convictions. I admire them in you as much as I would any companion." Alex was entirely serious. "You might have to hide such qualities with others, but I find your intellect engaging. I always have thought to consult you on matters, have I not?" "Some, I should hope, but then that is what good friends are for. I assume you spend just as much time sharing such thoughts with my cousins." "Perhaps…" Here they came to the small park and Alex paused to follow Isabella inside, as there was only a narrow wrought iron gate through which to enter and two could not fit at once.
They sat on one of the two benches within the fenced garden, shaded by a large flowering tree. Isabella closed her parasol. "Now, Alex dear, you must tell me about Europe. None of this talk of boredom, mind you: I want details. Being a man, you’ve had such advantages in your education that you think too lightly of such a trip." Isabella was scolding, but she also wore a pleasant smile upon her face, eager to hear of Alex’s travels abroad. "I tell you, it wasn’t nearly so fine as I remembered. I have always fancied the Continent and truly enjoyed myself with Gerald, but I couldn’t manage a repeat performance." "You couldn’t or poor Thomas was not capable of bringing it out in you?" "No, it was my fault. I take complete and utter blame for the debacle. Your uncle should pay to send Thomas again, since I ruined everything for him." "I don’t believe it. Why wasn’t it as brightly lit for you this time?"
Alex was afraid to tell her the real reason: when he had accepted Thomas’ invitation, he had seen it as the opportunity to attempt to put Isabella behind him, but the whole trip had been a failure in that regard. Thomas’ presence was a constant reminder of his cousin, and being forced out into public when he only wanted to stay in his apartments, thinking of Isabella and planning some new way of convincing her that she was wrong had been sheer torture. "I…I was not as jolly as one should hope. I’ve only just managed to shake that gloom off." Isabella pressed his hand. "Oh, I’m so glad, Alex. Not that you were unhappy on your holiday of course, but that you are now feeling better." Seeing Alex happy made her also have a share in that happiness, and somehow shortly after they had been left alone in the room together, she had begun to feel that everything would be all right.
"So, I have nothing to tell, but perhaps you may have something to share?" He asked this cheerily, but Isabella could not help but think he might have some underlying concern. "No, nothing of import has happened. Evelina and I have been rather quiet at home. Gerald has been about as usual, but he has complained in your absence of our lack of enthusiasm." Alex laughed, "I certainly do not presume to think that in my absence the Wittiers and Miss Bloomingfield were left utterly bereft." "Well…perhaps some of us were more affected than others." Once she had said it, she wished it back, but time would not grant her this favor.
Alex knit his eyebrows together. "Is that true?" he asked taking her hand. Isabella’s pulse quickened and she searched for a way out of her predicament. "I could not swear to it, but I believe Evelina suffered…" Isabella quickly blurted out without knowing quite where she was going with her deception. She paled at the thought that she was telling untruths to Alex. Her only thought this afternoon had been to try to return to times of old, when moments spent together were supreme happiness and the world seemed to stand still. Alex slowly withdrew his hand. He knew better than to believe what she had just said. The very idea of Evelina ever having feelings for him was ridiculous; he knew Evelina well enough to know he was neither her ideal, nor anyone she would ever dare to have feelings for, due to her cousin’s attachment. That was what was so maddening: he knew from this interview that Isabella still cared for him, and yet she still refused to admit it.
"Perhaps we should be getting back. I’m sure your uncle grows tired of me taking you away like this. It would be quite frowned upon if others knew." He stood up abruptly, not offering his hand. Isabella swallowed. She knew her words had soured his mood. Alex was too intelligent to believe the nonsense she had blurted out in fear. Her heart was still beating wildly. She felt as if she was on an irreparable course now: Alex, whether he knew it or not, was truly lost to her forever, and it was completely her own doing.
"We don’t have to go, if you don’t want…" she said looking up at him, trying to offer a wordless apology, but he would not meet her eyes. "No, I think it would be best." Isabella stood up, feeling rebuked, but knowing that she had earned it. They walked back to the house, but Thomas and Evelina were apparently now inside, being absent from the street. "Will you be coming in?" she asked timidly. "No. Pay my regards," he said and walked away, not even waiting to see her inside the door. She hurried up the stairs, balling her skirts in her hands. As she came to her room, she burst into tears, feeling like a chastised child. Tossing herself down on the large four-poster bed, she almost wished herself dead.
Concealments
The next morning, seated at the breakfast table, the Wittier family was quiet as usual. Mr. Wittier spent his breakfast rustling through the newspaper, and he was a man of few words in general. Gerald, if he managed to get up, would be incapable of conversation. Thomas never made it to breakfast, being even more of a night owl than his elder brother. Evelina, although the undeclared ruling member of the Wittier family, never sought to speak without cause around her father. And so it was left to Isabella to quietly eat her breakfast and make congenial comments whenever she saw fit. But thus far she had felt no need to break her silence.
She had picked up her knife and her arm was hanging in the air about to reach for the marmalade when one of Mr. Wittier’s servants entered the room, carrying a card on a tray. They were unused to being interrupted during breakfast, unless it was by one of their servers. Mr. Wittier let his paper drop down below his face and he looked over his wire rim glasses at the man. "Excuse me sir, but there is a card arrived from Mr. Reginald." Isabella let her knife drop and it clattered loudly on to her china plate. She blushed hotly under the scrutiny of Mr. Wittier and Evelina. She dropped her hands to her lap, trying to compose herself. The servant bent over, and Mr. Wittier took the card from the tray. "I would not have interrupted, sir, but Mr. Reginald requested it be brought directly to you, sir. Seeing that he is a friend of the family…" Mr. Wittier interrupted, "no, you’ve done right. Thank you, Jones. I’ll call for you, if you’re needed." The servant left the room and Isabella began to eat once more, but slowly for fear she would create a further disturbance. Mr. Wittier had just finished reading the note when Gerald sauntered into the room.
"Forgive me, Father." "It’s nothing new. For once, it seems you boys could get up for my sake and Miss Bloomingfield’s sake." Mr. Wittier always deferred to Isabella as the lady of the house. "Oh, Bella forgives me, I dare say," he said coming to kiss her cheek. "What’s this, sir?" he asked gesturing towards the note Mr. Wittier was laying down on the white lace tablecloth. "Business at this time in the morning?" "It’s not as early as you would suppose." Mr. Wittier cleared his throat before continuing: "This is from your friend, Reginald." "He has sent you a calling card? That’s odd. I tell you, I don’t know what to think about him these days." "Well, he writes to thank me for the Continental trip with Thomas, but I think I should thank him for keeping an eye on the boy." "Oh, is that all?" Evelina asked, casting a look in her cousin’s direction. "No, he ends asking to see me as soon as is within my powers." "Couldn’t he have just come to dinner with us?" Gerald asked between sips of hot tea. "Reginald would like a private audience, Gerald. I suppose he has something of a serious nature to discuss." Mr. Wittier signaled the end of the conversation by picking his paper back up.
Gerald turned to Isabella, entertaining other notions. "I should think you would be glad that Thomas is not with us," he said with a smile. "Why is that?" "Because, he would lean over and take that card for himself, that’s why." Mr. Wittier once more lowered his paper. "If you are attempting to tease Miss Bloomingfield, I would suggest that you instead practice the malaise that usually accompanies your breakfasts and keep your thoughts to yourself." He was serious, but Gerald had never been frightened by the seriousness of his father, so he laughed and reached over to pat Isabella’s hand. "It’s all right, Father. Bella and I have an understanding."
All that day Isabella concocted different reasons why Alex might have call to visit her uncle. She could not believe that he would go to him for her hand, after she had refused him personally, but she could think of no other reason why he would need a private audience. She did not know what she would do if he did request her hand. She was fairly sure that her uncle would grant it, believing it to be what she wanted, and perhaps it was, but then what would she do? Embarrass her uncle by again refusing Alex? To do that would make fools of everyone. She only hoped that her uncle would consult with her, if there were such a project afoot.
These thoughts of Alex had driven all consideration of Sir Trenton from her mind. She had not thought on him since Alex’s return the previous afternoon. She no longer worried that every carriage in front of the house would be his, returning from the North to bother her with the questions she thought herself unequal to face. So, the question of how she would answer him was still left unanswered.
A week passed and she neither saw Alex nor heard anything from her uncle as to their private meeting, which she only assumed already had occurred. Then Gerald abruptly left for the country taking Alex along with him. He had claimed that they were going on a hunting trip. It seemed an odd time for a hunting trip, the weather having turned rather cold and the ground muddy. Isabella became more suspicious when she realized that Gerald’s hunting horse had been left behind, in favor of his regular horse. She sought Thomas out following this discovery, hoping to trick him into giving some information away.
"Thomas, dear," she said sticking her head in the room where he was reading, feet up on the desk in front of him. "Am I bothering you?" He looked up and smiled, "no, you could never be a bother. How can I be of service to you?" Isabella entered the room and stood in front of her cousin offering him her hand, which he took and held absentmindedly in his lap for some time. "Thomas, I have found out something rather perplexing, and I need your imagination to conjure up some explanation for me." "I shall try my best. Have you seen a ghost on the stairwell?" he asked laughing. "Yes, but that is not why I’ve come," she replied with a smile.
"I shall come right to the point: Gerald did not take the horse that he uses for hunting." Thomas sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. "Did he not?" "No, he didn’t. And then I saw his rifle hanging up in the hallway. I’m afraid he will not successfully kill much of anything without horse and gun." "No, I should imagine not." "Then you have no explanation for me?" Isabella asked shaking her head. "Perhaps they’re joining with a party that will provide horses and guns," Thomas said, feeling rather proud that he had thought of a reason.
He knew very well where Gerald and Reginald were, but Reginald had asked that no one else be told, until his securement was certain. "Oh pooh!" Isabella said pulling her hand away. "Do you know that I don’t believe you?" She mocked anger, but in doing so, she made sure that she did not appear ugly in any way. She thought she knew the best way to coax her cousin. "Oh, come now, Bella. Don’t be like that. You’re right. You shouldn’t believe me in the least bit, but that’s what I’ve been told by Gerald, just as much as that’s what he told you. We were all there. So, whatever I say will be just as mistaken as anything you say on the matter. We’ve been told they’re hunting, and I’m just glad that I wasn’t dragged along." And with that, he opened his book and put his feet back up. Isabella left, accepting defeat.
