Chapter One
The Festivities Begin…
and a Certain Frosty Fellow is Blind to the Truth
The specter gazed down from her perch betwixt cloud and atmosphere. For nigh on four years she’d been ready to join her precious babes on the other side but ere she crossed the final veil, she had her darling full-grown daughter to see properly cherished first. Not an easy task when her dearest Issybelle wasn’t allowed off the estate. When the man who’d sired her daughter had become more jailer than father.
With a shake of her head, a flap of her angelic wings, she tossed off the troublesome thoughts. The season of miracles drew near. Was she not in the proper place to orchestrate one of her own? Mayhap several?
December 25th, 1813 ~ The First Day of Christmas
“Pray, Anne, who is that fearsome fellow darkening your doorstep? Tut-tut. Such a tardy arrival.”
“The black-haired frowning one, you mean?”
Isabella’s ears perked up, awaiting the answer.
As Isabella Spier had no chance of seeing him for herself—being completely blind and in the dark as it were—she paid particular attention to the whispered comments.
Happily ensconced in her favored chair near the fireplace heating the great drawing room of her friend’s home, inhaling the fragrant greenery the servants refreshed that very morning, and listening to the uplifting music—from the quartet commissioned for the entire twelve days!—she’d never been more at peace.
Pure sunshine on a dank and dismal day—that’s what Anne’s company and home had been these past weeks.
Learning that the Spierton housekeeper, unaffectionately known as The Warden, would be spending the winter with her family in Wales, Anne had presented her pregnant self at Spierton the first week in December and insisted on bringing Isabella to Redford Manor for the entire holiday “Starting today, which will give you time to learn the arrangement of the house and grounds at your leisure before anyone else arrives”.
How the lure of a month of freedom from the fortress she called home had beckoned.
Her father was in London until after the new year. That, combined with Anne’s monetary mischief, had sweetened the pot nearly beyond bearing.
Isabella had laughed when she’d learned of the gold coins that had changed palms. “You bribed our servants to not tattle?” she’d accused without rancor, deeply touched that merely the possibility of her company could inspire such devotion and generosity.
“Not bribes,” Anne assured, “bonuses. Holiday bonuses. Something I’m sure your miserly father no doubt overlooks.”
Eventually, with a lilt of joy in her heart, Isabella had succumbed to Anne’s urging. She could do no less when Anne had added, “Come now, Issybee, he forbade your presence at our wedding. Would you deny me now too?”
Of course she couldn’t, not now that circumstances had seen fit to provide a reprieve from her solitary station. What was the worst Father could do to Isabella upon discovering she’d dared leave without his permission? Banish her to an asylum? A convent? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t already applied those threats.
Though Mama was no longer around to grace Isabella with her shielding presence, neither was Isabella a child to be ordered about or threatened into obedience.
And after reminding herself of that three hundred times or more in the days that followed, she’d finally begun believing it, her life since The Disastrous Accident seeming more remote with every second that passed. With every delightful moment she spent surrounded by cheerful friends and carefree fellowship.
“Likely he’s all Friday-faced because he missed receiving any gifts this morn!” While she’d been woolgathering, speculation over the newcomer’s identity had continued.
“Do tell, Anne,” another lively voice chimed in, “who is he? I certainly wouldn’t want to be seated next to such a glowering crank at dinner.”
Amidst the excitement surrounding the grim arrival, the not-quite woman at her side leaned over and spoke in Isabella’s ear. “To be sure, I find him rather handsome—always have—and if I were permitted to join the adults for dinner, you can be assured I would sit next to him. Or directly upon his lap!”
Laughing at Harriet’s emphatic pronouncement, Isabella missed the name of the belated guest. “Harriet!” she admonished Anne’s younger sister with a smile. “Let Anne or your mother overhear you and it’ll be straight to bed without any supper.”
Not yet sixteen, Harriet had appointed herself Isabella’s guide upon her arrival, saying she was better suited to the task than Anne, not having a house full of guests to prepare for, and not being pregnant—which caused their mama to exclaim, “Thank the heavens for small favors! And don’t you be getting any ideas, young lady!”