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She handed the reins off to a waiting groom when she arrived at home and climbed up the steps of the townhouse. The doorwas opened for her and she handed her cloak over to the waiting butler before climbing the stairs to her chamber. There, her maid assisted her with her clothing and once Isadora was in her nightdress, the girl asked if there was anything else she needed. When Isadora declined any further services, the maid departed.
Isadora sat on the edge of her bed in her nightdress and decided that she had much to ponder. She hated being stuck in the same routine. It varied slightly from day to day, but there were the servants who still bowed to her every need, the calls she made and the politeness of manner that she employed whenever she left the house.
There had been several times over the years when she had wished to be more like Calliope, who didn’t appear to have a care in the world. And Olivia, although shy and reserved, had broken out of her shell with a courageousness that she didn’t realize she’d had. Then there was Araminta, who had boldly accepted love without hesitation.
Isadora knew all her sisters thought that she was stern, but the truth was, and what she had never revealed to her half-siblings, was that she was the one who had kept the estate from financial ruin after the loss of Olivia’s mother.
Even though Isadora had been ten at the time of the last duchess’ passing, she had already possessed a good head for numbers, and when she saw their father fall into a deep melancholy, she had offered to carry some of the burden of his loss.
Each day when her younger sisters had been instructed by their governess to rest, Isadora had joined the duke in his study. At first, he thought she merely wanted to observe, but she soon began to ask questions. And so, without an heir to take over the estate, he had taught her how to keep proper accounts.
Over the years, the responsibility had slowly turned over to Isadora, giving their father more time to pursue the prospect of another duchess.
She had never told her sisters any of it, because she haddecided long ago that there was no use lamenting the past. She had learned that it was best to look ahead to the future. She had yet to go through her mother’s trunks at Marlington Hall, nor did she choose to revisit the portrait gallery and look upon her painted image with longing, because it wouldn’t accomplish anything. If certain pursuits couldn’t benefit a positive outcome, they weren’t worth the effort.
It was one of the main reasons she was traveling to Newcastle. She wanted to ensure that the steam engines were continuing to be more prosperous than not. If they were threatening to become a liability, then she would ensure that Lord Somers knew about it.
She lay down in bed and blew out the lamp on the bedside table. As the room was coated in darkness, other than the slight glow from the waning fire in the grate, she allowed herself to think about Lord Osgood.
It was in these unbidden moments that she gave in to the temptation. She had never ignored the fact that he was a handsome man. There were even times that she entertained the prospect that they might become more than acquaintances someday.
There was one impediment. Something that Isadora had locked inside of herself, something that she had never revealed to another living soul. A good reputation was the single thing that a lady really had and she struggled to ensure that the Bevelstroke name had not been tainted over the years. It was one of the reasons Isadora had been so furious when she found out that Araminta had been meeting the earl in secret. And why she had feared for Olivia when she’d taken off on her own to return to Marlington Hall. Calliope’s affair had been no surprise. In truth, Isadora believed she might have been the first to falter.
Little did her sisters know that the Bevelstroke name had nearly been destroyed years before their move to London. It had nothing to do with the gossip surrounding their father and referringto him as the “Black Widower,” although it hadn’t made things any easier.
It was Isadora herself, the yearning she’d held on to for her own happily ever after. When it became apparent her dreams would never come to fruition, she had closed off her heart and succumbed to this personal purgatory of loneliness. However, given the same choices, she would sacrifice whatever was necessary to ensure that her sisters were happy and settled.
She closed her eyes and forced the sleep to come.
A sennight later,after a long, grueling travel with heavy rains that had made the roads almost treacherous at times, Isadora finally stepped down from the mail coach, which had deposited her at Newcastle in front of the Old George Inn on a sunny, mid-afternoon. She could have ridden in comfort in the Bevelstroke coach, but she thought it would be better for people to see that, just because she had money at her disposal, she wasn’t above traveling by public transport. Yes, she was the daughter of a duke, but she was also a woman who had to struggle to prove herself on more than one occasion.
She had also left all her servants behind, including her maid, and had opted for a more modest wardrobe. Newcastle was an industrial town, full of hard-working lower-class people. If she hoped to earn their trust, that these people might accept her, she didn’t need to separate herself before she’d even begun.
Since this was her first time to the northern town of England, she glanced around at the bustling area along the River Tyne. Already, she could hear the slight Geordie dialect around her, telling her with no uncertainty, that she was no longer in London. Dark smoke was prevalent in the air due to the surplus of collieries in the area, and she could hear the shouts of the keelmen as they loaded the coal onto their boats to be taken tothe waiting ships farther out in the harbor. Shipbuilders were also in high demand and she could see the tall masts of various vessels as they were in the process of being built.
Although there was similar activity taking place in London, the city stretched out far enough that it didn’t disrupt the general activity. She could only imagine how certain members of society might react to taking a ride in Hyde Park with so much soot flying about in the air. They complained enough about the growing age of industry.
As the driver unloaded her trunks and they were brought into the establishment, Isadora checked in with the innkeeper as her belongings were taken to her rooms above the crowded tap room. She was jostled once or twice, but in the likelihood of thieves, she had ensured her purse was secured within a secret pocket sewn into her skirts, so that it couldn’t easily be swept from her person. She had taken the same precautions in London because she knew that a single lady couldn’t be too careful. She also had a dagger hidden within her boot, as well as a pistol in the band of her stockings.
Despite the buzz of travelers and locals, Isadora was shown to her rooms by the innkeeper’s wife. Inside there was a fireplace, bed, washstand, and a dressing screen in one corner that she assumed held a chamber pot and tub. A large wardrobe was sitting against one wall. She removed her gloves one finger at a time and decided that it was certainly a far cry from the luxurious lifestyle she had grown accustomed to, but she wasn’t one to complain. She was here on business, not to be pampered.
“I fear it’s not much, my lady, but it is the best offering we have at the moment.”
Isadora immediately waved off the honorific. “Please, it’s Isadora. While I’m here, I don’t expect any special treatment. But I daresay a tea tray and some light refreshment would not come amiss as it has been a long day.”
The lady offered her a kind smile. “Of course, my… Isadora. Myname is Mrs. Francine Davies should you need anything else.”
Isadora nodded and then started to unpack her belongings. She was still in the process when the lady returned with a large tray. “I thought you might start to get hungry, so I was able to pilfer some soup and ham for you.”
Isadora’s stomach started to growl. “I appreciate that very much. Thank you.”
The innkeeper’s wife took note of a gown that Isadora was in the process of hanging up. While Isadora didn’t think it would be necessary to wear any of her silks or satins, she had brought along a few embroidered muslins that would be more appropriate for evening events, if the opportunity arose.
“That’s lovely.”
Isadora glanced at the ivory gown with its embroidered brown velvet trim and the matching spencer. “Thank you. I’m not sure that I shall have an occasion to wear it while I’m here, but it is good to be well prepared for any eventuality.”
While she had been referring to a possible business dinner, Mrs. Davies eyes lit up. “Oh, you must attend the theatre this evening to seeOthello.” Her cheeks reddened slightly, as if she believed she’d spoken out of turn. “Unless, of course, you don’t care for Shakespeare.”
