A Lady's Plight (Lords of Sussex) (3 page)

The early morning sun did not reach beyond the stone walls of the Rectory. Isabella shivered, at least she'd worn her shawl over her lacy cottage and dress. Goodness, did the man ever light a fire?

The Reverend Percy Swallow bowed obsequiously, as the
earl walked through a quarry-tiled porch to the hallway, his boots ringing over the flagstone floor. Bowing again to Isa and Alex he waved them through to his lounge, a sorry affair of plastered walls and the inevitable stone floor. At least, he'd covered them with rag rugs, which softened the effect. The large stone hearth loomed like a yawning mouth filled only with the few brittle twigs like broken teeth. A crude copy of Da Vinci's Last Supper hung on one wall, facing a stark portrait of the vicar standing by his now late wife seated in a high-backed chair; both with wooden expressions staring out from a blackened canvas.

She glanced around her; the only relief in the stark room was a grey tabby stretched out on the windowsill, capturing the sun's rays through the leaded light windows. The wooden chairs with faded brown velvet cushions afforded little comfort to the sitter.

The vicar bowed again. 'Please my lord, the maid will take your coat.'

Shivering with the icy interior, the
earl growled, 'Gad Reverend, do you never heat this place, tis colder than a mausoleum.'

His parchment skin paling to ivory, the vicar rushed to say, 'I beg your pardon my lord; I thought it quite warm.'

'It's as cold as a witch's arse in here Swallow. We'll keep our coats on.'

'I beg your pardon my lord; I will get the maid to make up a fire.'

'No - no. We will not be staying long.'

Isa bit her lip at her father's rudeness, but knew he had little time for religion, although he spent most of his time studying the Apocrypha.

His voice almost a squeak, the vicar said, 'Pray take a seat my lord.

Looking down at the pitifully sparse chair, the
earl flicked up the tails of his frock coat, and sat, his expression showing his discomfort.

The vicar hurried over to a chair bringing it forward for Isabella, whilst Alex took another.

Bowing once more, his hands clasped together, the vicar once more bowed to the earl. ''My lord, may I offer your some refreshment - tea - port - sherry perhaps?'

'No -
no . Let's get on with it. Now you have my letter of instruction?'

Isa lowered her eyes, Papa did not observe the rules of etiquette
; he was being most impolite. She glanced over to Alex, who raised his eyebrows.

The reverend cleared his throat. 'I read your letter
, and am afraid that I cannot accede to your request.'

The
earl shot up from his chair, towering over the clergyman. 'What? Did I hear you refuse? It will take place in our private chapel in the grounds of the estate in five days hence.

The vicar almost cowered, holding up his hand, as if to ward off a blow. 'My Lord, it is against the law. I would willingly help you if it were possible. But
—'

'Dammit you will marry them.'
The earl thundered, 'Do not tell me there is no way out of this.'

Isa could see Swallow's fear; after all, he was dependent on the favour of the
earl for his living in the parish.

The
earl took a step toward the diminutive figure, who stammered, 'Well - well my lord; you could take out a special license.'

'Then do it man, do it.'

The reverend bobbed his head, his knee bending as if to kneel before the furious earl.

'Of course my lord.
I will see to it immediately.'

Getting out a lace handkerchief from the pocket of his great coat, the
earl mopped his brow. 'Hah, so that is settled. Now I will have a glass of port wine.'

Appearing like a marionette, his head falling from one side to the other, the vicar rubbed his hands together and mincing to the table, rang a bell. Almost immediately, a
maid appeared, her pinafore starched and crisp, the face as sour as if she just sucked a lemon. Giving almost a full curtsey to the earl, she turned and dipped her head at the vicar. 'Yes Reverend?'

'Please bring in the refreshments.'

With a flourish of his hand, the vicar turned to the earl. 'Please my lord, pray to be seated.'

Mollified, Lord Winton lifted up the tails of his frockcoat with a flourish and sat down, his stick still tapping the floor.

His voice now almost a squeak, the clergyman said, 'My Lord, I shall appeal for the license, but again, I fear it will take some days to—'

'Swallow - you will get on your horse, and you will obtain that wretched licen
se this very day. Tell the Judge it is for me. Do you hear?'

'Why yes - yes of course my lord. I just
—'

'No more to be said on the matter. Now how many witnesses do we need?'

'Just one or two my lord.'

'Very well, there will of course be more in attendance.'

'But, we must give time for someone to speak against the marriage if they so wish.'

'They will have exactly five days Swallow - five days.'

The maid reappeared with a tray, followed by a kitchen maid with apple cheeks and a large belly. She was obviously increasing, but Isa noticed she did not wear a ring. Poor girl - most probably one of the village swains who could not or would not marry her.

To Isa's surprise, the refreshments were quite abundant, as compared to the scarcity of comfort in the rectory. The
maids piled the oak table high with fresh bread rolls, tiny sandwiches, and steaming hot tea. There were also glasses for an alcoholic beverage. The older maid then offered plain white china plates ornamented with a single rose. In effect, it was charming and quite the opposite to the Spartan appearance of the lounge.

The reverend looked at Isabella. 'My lady, have you any preferences for the service?'

The earl answered for her, 'Short as possible. I cannot sit for too long - the gout.'

'Of course my lord, I quite understand.'

Isa smiled inwardly; the earl would have had to endure a two-hour ceremony for a proper wedding, so he was really taking advantage of the situation. She spoke up, 'I would like to enter the church to the music of Vivaldi and of course a couple of suitable hymns.'

Lord Winton's eyes widened. 'For goodness sake Isa there will only be a handful of us - singing hymns - poppycock.'

She decided not to argue; it was enough he arranged the ceremony. At least in six days, she would sail with her lover across the channel to Belgium. Her heart fluttered, so many days, so many nights of bliss.

As they gathered outside Isa, said, 'Papa I must now visit the modiste's shop. I need dresses, bonnets, slippers.'

'Gad girl, there is not enough time. Five days?'

'Papa she is already making some of my trousseaus; she has many assistants she can call on, day and a night if needs be.
So please?'

The
earl turned to Alex. 'Damn these women. Come we will escort Isa to the dressmaker's, and then a visit to the chocolate house. Knowing my daughter, she will be in there for hours.'

Although only mid-morning, the dressmaker's shop was already crowded with customers examining boles of soft wool, silks, cotton, tulle and muslin. In one corner was a stand displaying mobcaps, bandanas and the most glorious
bonnets. Isabella wanted Venetia to accompany her, but the earl insisted on leaving early. There was not enough time to rouse her, and she did not want to incur the earl's displeasure any further. After all, he'd given her an extravagant allowance to purchase what she needed.

Going to the counter she spoke with the dressmaker, her cheeks aflame with excitement. 'Mrs
. Wallis, I know it is such short notice but can you help me. I am to be married in five days hence. I need you to rush through the trousseau. I have need of morning, afternoon and evening gowns, including my wedding gown.'

Mrs
. Wallis clapped her hands. 'La milady, do not fear we shall have them ready for you. I have recourse to able seamstresses.'

Isa smiled, 'Thank goodness, I was so afraid you would not have enough time. I do so wish to be appear "much dressed", "well-dressed" is not nearly enough. I need the latest up to the minute styles in the latest colours.'

'Never fear milady. I have all your measurements, and I am well aware what colours suit your fine complexion and dark hair. Let us have a look at the styles.' Calling over to an assistant she said, 'Alicia, do bring the pattern books.' Turning back to Isa, she said, 'You will be the most 'much dressed' young bride there. So tell me how many you require.'

'I need two morning dresses, two for the afternoon, two for the evening, a ball gown or maybe two, and of course my wedding gown. Can you do it?'

'Of course, we have already finished part of your trousseau; my seamstresses will work day and night to see you have all you need.'

'And the fittings?'

'I will arrange times. Now do go choose slippers, ribbons, tiaras and flowers for your hair.'

Isa felt a light tap on her shoulder, and a trill of laughter.
'Why Isabella - darling - how wonderful to see you.'

~

She turned to see her closest friend Lady Phillipa Frencham, her dark hair fashioned in curls on her forehead with ringlets falling either side of her pretty face. 'Phillipa - why - I'm so glad to see you. What are you doing here?'

'La, I need some more trimmings for my trousseau; the marriage is only ten days hence. I am so excited.
And, guess what? Hector asked me to accompany him to Belgium.'

Oh Phillipa I have great news for you too. Yesterday Alex told me he would have to delay the wedding yet again, as General Maddeson invited him to be his principal aide-de campe. And I
—'

'Oh goodness - so what will you do?'

'I gave him no choice Phillipa, I told him we would marry within five days. Mama of course had a fainting fit, but Papa readily agreed. We have just left the Rectory where he arranged the marriage ceremony; the vicar is applying for a special licence. We will sail the day after the nuptials. Mama's companion is sending out invitations to our closest friends, so you should receive one this very day.'

'What? Five days, la Isa.' Her voice lowered, '
Are you alright?'

Isa laughed. 'Nay I am not increasing.
It's such a rush though. I am trying to choose dresses, capes, shoes, reticules, bonnets. Oh dear, I know not where to start.'

Phillipa threw her arms around her friend. 'Oh Isa -
it's so exciting. We will be together in Brussels. La - what fun? But, come, I will help you. Mama is safely ensconced with her friend for the next few hours, so we shall have plenty of time. My brother is not picking me up for a couple of hours.'

'Excellent. Papa and Alex have gone to the Chocolate House, but they know I will be at least a couple of hours.'

Seeing Mrs Wallis open up the pattern books, her eyes widened. 'La, Phillipa, you can help me choose.'

Phillipa looked over to the far side of the shop. 'Henrietta is here; I left her trying on bonnets, shall I go and get her?'

'Oh yes, of course.'

She watched Phillipa return holding the hand of a flaxen haired maiden with vivid violet eyes, wearing a fetching bonnet of pale green silk and a fusion of lace and roses. Kissing Isa, the young woman gushed. 'Oh how wonderful, only five days and then Brussels - oh my goodness.'

Laughing, Isa hugged her. 'La, now you can both help me with my trousseau. Things are happening so fast.'

Perching on counter stools the three friends poured over the books, Phillipa exclaimed, 'Oh my, look at this one, I see the style is becoming more romantic. Look at the lace collars and the slashed puffed sleeves.'

Henrietta peered at another page. 'I see Turkey Red is in vogue. Now that would really suit you Isa with your black hair, and look at the narrow lace edging at the bosom, how sweet.'

Isa nodded. 'I do like the long sleeves; see how they fall over the knuckle.

Phillipa squealed, 'Oh look at this, why how daring; the cloth hardly covers the bosom.'

After giving her orders to the ever patient Mrs
. Wallis, Isa joined her friends to try on bonnets and slippers, and choose ribbons and stockings. They looked up on hearing the irritated tones of a young woman, beautifully attired in a pale blue muslin over crepe dress embroidered with twirls of a deeper blue that toned in with her pelisse. She had taken off her bonnet so one could admire her dark hair dressed in the latest fashion a la Titus.

Phillipa whispered, '
Oh dear, the Lady Esmeralda looks ill pleased as usual. They watched the girl's beautiful face now twisted with frustration, as she argued with an assistant. Her voice rang out, 'You can't be out of stock? Surely not? Why I came in the other day, and you had yards of muslin?'

The assistant, red faced, her eyes wide, held a bole almost empty of yellow muslin with embroidered cream flowers. 'No my
lady, there is no more. We will have to wait for the next shipment and even then I cannot promise—'

'Dammit - dammit.'
She stamped her foot, her teeth clenched.

Isa caught Phillipa's arm. 'Viperish as usual, honestly, let's go this way then we'll miss her. I don't fancy a spiteful repartee with her.'

Stroking a bole of the palest lilac silk, Henrietta said, 'Isa, you simply must have this. It is gorgeous, and you would look delectable. Just think of it, made up into a ball gown, puffed sleeves, the low bodice and then the padded hem. This will be my gift to you.'

Isabella threw up her hands. 'I couldn't - it is beautiful, but I couldn't.'

'I insist; I would love to purchase it for you.'

Isa hugged her. 'I do not think Mrs
. Wallis could cope with any more.'

'Nonsense, she has so many seamstresses. I
declare —'

'But, the cost
—'

'Tush,
papa is over generous with my allowance; he will not even notice it. Why I lose more at cards of an evening than I would pay for half a dozen dresses.'

Thrilled, Isa gave her a hug. 'Well, I did have my eye on it.'

'Well so it shall be. I shall order it from Mrs. Wallis. Now choose a flowered headdress - or what you will.'

As Henrietta made for the counter, Phillipa said, 'I cannot match a Duke's daughter, but I would love to buy you a pair of slippers and a bonnet.'

'No, I insist, I will be most upset if you decline.'

Isa laughed. 'My, I am being spoilt, when I leave here with all the boxes,
papa will have an apoplexy. He'll think he has to pay for it all.'

As the girls wandered around the enticing stands, they were unaware of a male observing them. Lord Everard Ladness, a rakehell licked his lips. He saw them nearing the dressing rooms. The Lady Isabella continually spurned him for that bastard Fitzroy. Well now he had the perfect opportunity; she was his, always had been;
he'd marked her out for his wife when she was a mere child. Now she would be his.