It was two weeks later when Gerald returned. Isabella thought that Mr. Wittier received his son rather more warmly than usual, but otherwise nothing was said of his trip. Alex’s presence at dinner at the Wittier home was also perplexing, given the recent state of his relationship with Isabella, and it grieved her that he was a part of the conspiracy against her that only seemed to exclude Evelina at this point. Isabella was beginning to fume at being deceived, so she decided to test her eldest cousin. "Were your endeavors successful, Gerald?" "Oh yes, very," he answered, grinning at Alex across the dinner table. So far Alex had barely met her eyes and even now refused to meet her gaze. "Are you teasing me?" she demanded. Gerald shook his head, "no, not at all, but I think we were rather successful in a different pursuit than what you believe." "Yes, since you lied to me, I don’t know what you were doing, but I have already concluded that you certainly were not hunting."
She cut at her meat rather viscously, and Gerald considered that the joke better be given up. "Reginald and I went into the country for rather more important reasons than hunting, but he did not wish to make those reasons public until he was sure of victory." "Victory?" Evelina asked, and Isabella turned to look at Alex in amazement. She could not think as to what they could be alluding. Alex cleared his throat and looked at Isabella now for the first time: "I’ve won a seat in the Commons."
At that moment, Isabella wished very much that there was not a table’s length separating her from Alex and that they were alone so that she could throw her arms around him, but she had to satisfy herself with a very warm smile and words of praise suited to the occasion. "That is quite an accomplishment, Alex. I had no idea." "Neither did I," Evelina said in awe. "Gerald hates it all so much, I’m astonished you would do such a dreadful thing," she continued. Mr. Wittier interrupted his daughter’s speech, "Evelina, Mr. Reginald has done very well by himself in taking such a step. He shall do very well in the House, and I’m sure he shall find more gratification in it than your fickle brother."
Alex finally took his eyes away from Isabella, harboring real joy at the pleasure that accompanied Isabella’s reception of his announcement. He turned to Mr. Wittier and said sincerely, "I owe much of this honor to you and your son for supporting my run for the seat. For your very kind support, I very much hope to do your family credit. I shall try to do my best at the very least." "I have no doubt of it," Mr. Wittier said firmly before turning the conversation in another direction.
Isabella’s thoughts, however, were harder to turn. For a few minutes she found herself very proud of Alex and extremely gladdened for him. She bestowed upon him her kindest smiles and her utmost attention, which he received with the keenest happiness that far outweighed his feelings upon winning the seat. Then as she pondered his new position, she began to see that there might be a motive in his improvement that she had previously ignored: perhaps he had sought the House in an effort to please her, or more precisely, to become more pleasing to her.
The very thought that Alex would guide his life and employment in a direction to become more agreeable to her set her heart to pounding. It was a simultaneously flattering and embarrassing situation. Alex was a man well worth securing, if everything but income was taken into consideration, and Isabella considered him the best of men. So, for him to be seeking her in such deliberate avenues was pleasing to her vanity and made him even more endearing to her. And yet, due to her resolve against such an alignment, it also put her in a very awkward position. Surely her uncle had given Alex his backing in light of Isabella’s perceived attachment to the gentleman. Gerald’s friendship was not enough to earn Mr. Wittier’s respect: it might even be a deterrent in some situations, especially since Mr. Wittier prided himself on his impartiality in his dealings with his sons. Isabella clearly saw her uncle’s tacit acceptance of Alex’s claims in this act, and now she could only embarrass her uncle by choosing a different path, even if she chose perhaps more wisely. She knew Alex better than to suppose he had sought his improvement in order to trap her, and so she did not view his motives as thus, but all the same, it made her situation seem all the more difficult to her. Ironically, Alex had only hoped to remove the last impediment to their future happiness.
Alex marked Isabella’s change of demeanor when they retired to the drawing room. Alex had entertained some hopes of attracting Isabella’s private attention, but now he saw that his best efforts would be rebuffed, and he could not think as to why this would be so. Isabella had chosen a seat off to the side of her uncle and drew it only closer, proceeding to quietly read a book, or make it appear as if she was reading a book. Her uncle was debating some political issues with Gerald and lacking the ability to engage Isabella, Alex soon joined the debate as well, seeing no other option, other than leaving the family altogether. Thomas and Evelina were meanwhile occupied drawing comic sketches at the desk in the corner, oblivious to all but themselves.
The evening continued in this manner, until Thomas suggested that the other two young men join him at the gentlemen’s club where he and Gerald were members. "Thomas," Mr. Wittier sighed, "You are interrupting a very good debate in order to drag yourselves off to no good. I’m sure Miss Bloomingfield would not approve," he said casting a look at Isabella, who had been silent. "The gentlemen usually do as they like, uncle," Isabella said without looking up from her book. "Far be it for me to direct their whims." Gerald had already stood up to leave and Alex was following his lead, when he quietly asked of her, "would you rather we didn’t go, Isabella?" Finally she looked up and managed a practiced smile. "If I answered in the affirmative, I should be very much disliked by my cousins. We shall have to manage without you." And with that, Alex knew there could be no private interview tonight, and so they left.
Private Interviews
At the hour assigned for receiving visitors, Evelina and Isabella sat as usual in the parlor, it being their day to stay home and receive, rather than going out themselves. Isabella went through the motions as best as she could, greeting the ladies with whom she was only passing friends. Evelina seemed to be enjoying her job with her usual vigor, making the most of every situation. Isabella watched her cousin with some envy: while she would not be able to give a very large dowry to her prospective husband, she had enough to make marrying with the consideration of love possible. And besides that, Evelina was even-tempered and pretty, making it very likely that she would make a match at a relatively young age.
The time for visitors had nominally come to an end, and Evelina asked Isabella whether she would enjoy a window-shopping trip, but Isabella declined. "Go with Miss Kentington, why don’t you? She doesn’t have very many friends yet, and she is a sweet girl. I should think that you and her shall come much together in the coming years, as you are close in age." "Miss Kentington is not as good a companion as you, but then, if you will not go with me…" "Now Evelina! I think you’re trying to make me feel like a poor cousin." "I’m just teasing you, Bella!" she said kissing her cousin and flying from the room.
It was not five minutes later when Alex burst in unannounced on Isabella’s quiet reverie. She stood up quickly, frightened by the incensed look on his face and the way his eyes scanned the room as if someone else might be within. "Alex what’s…" "Are you engaged to Sir Trenton?" Isabella dropped her hands to her side and cocked her head, but before she could answer Alex burst out again: "just tell me the truth." "Alex…" "And I don’t want to hear that it isn’t any of my concern, because I feel very strongly that it is. If you had any heart, you would have told me yesterday…" "Stop!" Isabella nearly shouted. Alex finally closed his mouth for a time, but his chest was rising up and down rather heavily and his jaw was clenched tightly. "I have not entered into any engagements with anyone, and I would have told you if had I done so. So, please spare me your frightful lecturing."
Alex did not appear to relax at these words. He stepped forward, grabbing the back of a wooden backed chair. He leaned slightly forward, resting his other hand on his hip as his gray coat fell open. "Are you sure then?" "Yes, I think that I would know, Alex, honestly." Isabella could not help but be angry at his outburst, which appeared wholly unwarranted. He straightened up. "Then I must be going." Isabella stepped forward: "no, you have demanded things of me, and now I will demand them of you: why have you come here asking me these questions? I have given you no cause for such interrogation." Alex turned his head, looking towards the door. "I believe you must tell me before you rush off to yell at some other unfortunate lady."
"Forgive me, but I had to know the facts, and now that I do…" "This is not an answer." Alex’s brusque behavior gave way to outright fury: "Am I to suffer the exaltations of men such as Sir Trenton then? Am I to hear of his ‘great luck’ in securing such a ‘girl’ before it is even the God’s honest truth? Tell me, Isabella, how much am I to bear? Over cigars and brandy I must hear your name bandied about?" Isabella was somewhat taken aback. "I’m afraid I don’t understand, Alex," she replied in a softened tone.
Alex swallowed before beginning, his temper somewhat abating. "Last night at the club, I was led to believe that you and Sir Trenton…that there was no longer any doubt…" "Well, you were very much mistaken," Isabella countered. "Sir Trenton thinks himself so sure of his success then that he makes such claims now. He has not been here?" Isabella could not bring herself to answer, seeing now the compromising position in which she had been unwittingly placed. Alex could see her answer in her diminishing composure. "I must beg leave from you then," he said looking once more to the door. Isabella put out her hand, laying it on his upper arm with barely any pressure. She felt herself grow pale as fresh fears began to rush through her head.
"Where are you running off to, Alex? Why did you say you had to know the truth, but now that you did…" Alex placed his other hand over her own and engaged her in an intense gaze, cutting off her words. "Isabella, I won’t stand for your name to be brought up in such a place. I won’t stand for lies to be associated with your name." "You mean to do something rash!" she exclaimed balling her free fist in order to fight the tremor she felt running through her body. "I must go."
Isabella spoke quickly, desperate to prevent him from leaving: "No, Alex, think of what you’re doing. Please, it is not as if Sir Trenton is merely a chimney sweep spreading lies about me." His brow furrowed and he let go of her hand. "You approve of what he has said then? You mean to make his words true?" Isabella stepped forward once more, looking up into his face and timidly grasping both of his hands that hung lifeless at his side. "I only worry for your safety and your reputation. I won’t have you dueling over me. For heaven’s sake, even giving public censure to his actions would be equally dangerous in your respective situations. He has more power than you do, Alex." "You didn’t answer me," he said quietly. Isabella looked steadily into Alex’s eyes; she was not sure of her reasons, but at that moment she knew the answer, so she gave it freely: "I don’t intend on giving Sir Trenton any satisfaction."
Alex sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. It was not as if she had just accepted his offers, but it was something. When he opened his eyes again, she was just a few inches away, still gazing up at him with a look he could not quite read. She no longer seemed angry, however, which was good. He could feel her warm breath against his skin, creating raised bumps all over his body. They had been this close many a time, and he momentarily put aside his desire to spring from the room to search out Sir Trenton, as he did not want to say anything or do anything to break away from their present closeness.
As he looked into her eyes, his mind wandered back to the time when he was seventeen and she was thirteen. They had been alone behind the boathouse at the Wittier’s country estate. They had run after Isabella’s dog, Dauphin. Dauphin always had a tendency of getting away from his mistress, and her cousins were often in charge of retrieving the white ball of fur. Gerald and Thomas had been too busy sparring with each other at the time to take notice of Isabella’s distress at her child’s flight, so Alex had taken after the pup. Isabella, still little more than a girl, had hurried after, only slowed by her thick skirts. When he finally managed to catch Dauphin behind the boathouse, he had picked the fidget up and turned to carry it back to her, when to his surprise there she was a few feet away with outstretched arms. As he had leaned down to deposit the ball into her arms, she had looked up quickly, meeting his gaze much as he did now, but then he had been a good deal taller than she was. His first reaction had been to steal a kiss from her and he had acted on it, without much thought to propriety. It was very quick, but there was no doubt that it had happened. Her reaction had been to completely ignore the kiss, turning to run back gaily to her cousins wrestling on the hill. He had always thought himself lucky for receiving such a kiss and for also not receiving a slap along with it.
In all the years afterwards, as much as they had been thrown together, and as much as their mutual attraction had grown into full-fledged adult desire, never again had he stepped over that boundary of propriety. At times, when they were as close as they were now, his heart would threaten to jump out of his chest and his breath would come quickly. He sometimes thought she might be feeling the same.
Still, he did nothing, looking into her eyes. There was no awkwardness in their silence; neither of them wanted to move. But then, Alex leaned in, and relinquishing one of her hands reached up to softly touch her cheek and gently kiss her lips. This kiss was not as quick and guilty as the first one had been, but he stopped short of becoming too passionate, pulling back no more than a centimeter from her face, still hovering by her lips.
"Forgive me," he whispered. Isabella bit the inside of her lip, looking down at the ground. There was no anger in her voice when she spoke: "Alex, you must go." "Forgive me," he repeated, but he knew that he could not bring himself to regret what he had done. There had been a slight return on Isabella’s part that almost made him seek another kiss, but he thought it better to follow her directions, and so he gathered himself together and left.
With Alex gone, Isabella rushed over to the large gilded mirror hanging above the mantle. She looked at her flushed figure in its reflection, wondering at herself. Her first thought was: ‘why did I not stop him?’ Then, after not having stopped him, why had she not responded more stringently. She should have been affronted, but she was not, and she knew that she had been almost as active a participant in the social sin as he had been. After all, she was no longer thirteen, and by now she should have known better than to let gentlemen take such liberties with her. And yet, from the time Alex had kissed her at her uncle’s country house, she could guiltily catalogue numerous occasions when she had wished it would have happened again or that more would have passed between them than the touch of hands or the brush of skin while playing or dancing together. Standing in front of the mirror, Isabella knew the reason she had not stopped Alex: she had wanted him to kiss her and had wanted him to do so for nearly seven years.
She had not moved from her place in front of the mirror when one of Mr. Wittier’s servants entered. She tried her best to compose herself, turning to face the man. "Pardon me, Miss Bloomingfield, but there is a gentleman here that requested a formal announcement. Will you receive a visitor?" "Who…who is it?" she asked quietly. The servant glanced over his shoulder. "Sir Trenton, miss." "Oh, heavens," she muttered to herself. "Yes, bring him in, thank you." Isabella clasped her hands in front of her, and to her dismay she could still feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.
Sir Trenton entered and approached her, taking her hand and kissing it. "Miss Bloomingfield," he said bowing his head. "Sir Trenton, you’re very good to pay me a visit." "Forgive me for coming somewhat late in the day, but I did not wish to meet with anyone else." "Please sit down, Sir." Sir Trenton took a seat on the sofa and she waited so as to sit across from him, rather than next to him. She only hoped that he would come to his point quickly. She thought his attitude rather repulsive, something she had never thought before, but she acknowledged that the recent information given to her by Alex was now coloring her view.
"Miss Bloomingfield, Isabella, I believe we both know why I’m here." "Yes, Sir." Isabella answered without a smile. "Then have you come to a decision?" "I’m very appreciative of the kindness and advantage of your offer, but I’m afraid I cannot in good conscience accept it." Sir Trenton knit his brows and sat forward slightly leaning on the cane he held in his hand. "Miss Bloomingfield, this coquetry might be all the fashion among young ladies, but it will not do in marriage. You will find no man willing to put up with it for long. So, I suggest you drop this performance." "I assure you that I am in earnest, and I’m very sorry that I could not be clear with you upon your first pressing of your generous offer. I had not meant to reject you, but now I must. I assure you that there has never been any coquetry in my actions," Isabella spoke quietly and quickly, wishing herself a million miles away.
Sir Trenton stood up, flustered: "You cannot be serious." "I am very much so, Sir." He began to walk away, stalking the room. "Do you wish me to flatter you and play the lover’s part?" "No, Sir. I never wished to make a fool of you. Please acquit me of that." He pointed at her with his cane: "I am sure that you received my attentions favorably, Miss Bloomingfield. Do you attempt to deny that?" "No…no, I can not deny that. If circumstances were not different, I would probably still do so, but…" "What is this? Has some other gentleman laid more wealth at your feet? A younger man perhaps?" His voice was rising as he spoke, and Isabella stood herself, eager for him to leave.
"Sir, none of my personal matters can have anything to do with you. I have asked for your pardon, and this is the best I can offer. I owe you no further explanation and I cannot in all good conscience…" "Yes, yes," he interrupted. "Perhaps your uncle would see things more clearly," he said walking towards the door. "Sir! I beg of you. You will find that my uncle and I are of one mind when it comes to my future happiness." Sir Trenton turned to bow with obvious anger. "Good day, Miss," he said with ill humor and left the room.
Isabella now knew herself unequal to the task she had set out for herself: she could not marry without love. If she were to marry, it would be Alex, and otherwise she would not and pray for the continued kindness of her extended family. She chided herself for no longer being able to truthfully hope that Alex would turn his head towards some more opportune lady with a fortune, even if she could see him farther in life than she ever could. She therefore hoped that the chance that he might actually marry someone else was rather slim, but then he might have finally had enough of her refusals. Her final resolve was to accept him, should he ever make his offer again. Contingent on that plan was that she promise herself to never think of money again, trusting that he would find ways to make them comfortable. She now chided herself for doubting Alex and doubting the power of her own feelings.
