Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
It had been rather shocking, waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling.
Isobel had stared at it for a moment, then she sat up, her mind spinning as she glanced around at the equally unfamiliar room. Another minute of staring and wondering had passed before she finally recalled where she was and why.
Now that the sun was up, she could clearly see where she was, and the cozy impression she had gotten of her sister’s private chambers had grown. She could easily tell that Valerie favored the colors pink and lime green, as her bedding, furniture, and even her curtains carried those colors.
As Isobel wandered about, doing her best to embody what she imagined was her twin sister’s personality as she got dressed for the day, she imagined that they might have shared a room if they had gotten to grow up together.
Perhaps they would have shared everything, from clothes, friends, and likes. Perhaps Isobel might have spent less time feeling as though she was missing a piece of herself.
At some point, she realized that she was stalling and claimed under her breath,
“This needs to be perfect. I need to be perfect, or it will be quite obvious that I am nothing like her.”
She brushed her hair gently, taming her usually unruly locks and restraining them neatly into a braid with a pink bow at the tip. Reluctantly, she put on a light green dress, a little stunned by how it managed to bring out her eyes.
The sight of them reminded her of Fergus, and she whispered,
“I’m scared, Papa. But I know you would want me to do the right thing. Please give me strength. And watch over me.”
Isobel felt nervous as her preparations came to an end. It was less because she had to walk around in someone else’s shoes – quite literally and figuratively – but more so because there was someone within these walls who was after her sister’s life.
Eventually, she worked up enough courage to leave the sanctity of her temporary room, instinctively heading down the hall in the direction she had come from the night before.
She peered around a corner carefully, catching sight of two women laughing together as they walked to the stairs, descending as they continued to chatter eagerly.
Slowly, she trailed after them, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible, and soon arrived at what she surmised was the dining hall.
Inhaling deeply, she stepped through the doors, stopping in her tracks almost immediately when she noticed there were many more people than she had expected to see, all of whom were currently facing her direction.
“Valerie! How are you?”
“Good morning, dear, do you still feel ill?”
“Do you need anything? Anything at all?”
“Are you well enough to join us this morning? We would not mind if you wish to take some time for yourself. As the bride-to-be, your well-being comes first.”
Isobel blinked, a little surprised by the onslaught of concern, her body stiffening as she reminded herself that the culprit could be any one of these people who were acting so concerned for her well-being.
“I –” she cleared her throat, hoping to God that not a hint of her Scottish tongue would reflect in her words. “I am well, thank you. I greatly appreciate the concern, but I assure you all, I am feeling much better now.”
“That is a relief,” one of the women by her side sighed with a smile. “Still, I think it is in your best interest to take it easy today. Rest when you feel you need to.”
Isobel nodded gratefully, keeping a smile fixed upon her lips until she was sure the attention on her had faded before searching for her father, glaring at him once she had found him.
He could have warned her that she would have to face this many people! When he had said the wedding party had just begun, she imagined that only a handful of people would be present.
How was she meant to convince these many people that she was indeed who they believed her to be? And how was she to uncover who the culprit was with this many suspects?
Her father could have done more to prepare her for this. He could have given her some sort of hint about the people she would face, or at least told her their names. Instead, he had instructed her to do her best and let her walk right into her potential demise.
Gregory remained blissfully unaware of the wrath brewing within Isobel, and just as she considered pulling him to a corner, she felt an odd sensation settle upon her.
It was strange and disconcerting, filling her with unease. It took a few seconds that felt like long minutes as she considered leaving the dining room completely or finding a corner to hide somehow, but she eventually recognized the sensation.
She was being watched.
Startled by the realization, she looked up, and her eyes met the intense glare of a man sitting on the other end of the room.
The first thing she noticed was his handsome face.
Whoever this man was, he had the face many would wholeheartedly devote their lives to in worship. His strong jaw twitched as she met his stare, and his stunning blue eyes turned even colder as she refused to look away.
He was poised perfectly with an air of authority and power, and something about his posture reminded her of the statues at the monastery she had recently taken up residence at.
Something about him felt… dangerous, and once she noticed that, Isobel mustered enough willpower to look away, quickly busying herself with the task of putting together a plate of food.
Although she was not sure she had any appetite, the task kept her busy, and she managed to convince herself to ignore him.
However, her weak resolve only lasted a mere handful of minutes – perhaps less, because her eyes were on him again, and a strange feeling rushed through her when she noticed he was still looking at her.
“Who are you?” she muttered under her breath, jumping as a hand lightly rested on her shoulder.
Isobel whirled around, startled when she came face to face with an elderly woman who bore a gentle expression.
“Are you sure you are feeling better, dear? You look quite flushed. Do you have a fever?” the woman questioned, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.
Isobel shook her head, doing her best to muster a bright smile as she replied carefully.
“I promise, I am feeling as right as rain now. I think… I was just nervous! Just… nervous, because of the wedding. I have not been sleeping well because I am worried things might not go well – however, I am very excited to be wed. I cannot wait to marry my husband-to-be.”
The woman stared at her for a moment, and just as Isobel began to wonder if she had been caught, her present company chuckled.
“I assure you that it is quite normal. The days leading up to a young woman’s wedding are a frightful whirlwind of emotions.
At one moment, you are filled with hope and excitement over the plans contained in your new beginning.
The next moment, you are fraught with nerves, your mind stuck in a concerning loop of all the things that could go wrong, and more.
Eventually, it will all settle, and you will find out that you were worried for nothing. ” She told Isobel reassuringly.
“D-Do you really believe so?” Isobel questioned, her tone hopeful.
“I believe so. We are all here to support you, Valerie. Do not try to take on every detail of this wonderful event by yourself. We have all come to wish you well, with our word and our actions. Your father has gone to great lengths to ensure that everything is absolutely perfect –”
“Deborah, will you be joining us for a game of cards later?” another woman asked, walking up to them.
The woman who had been conversing with Isobel smiled, “Certainly! I will not pass up the chance to seize your treasures for myself.”
“You need to win for that to happen, but I am afraid that is not possible for one as easily distracted as you.”
“Oh, shoo. We shall discuss this later, as I am in the middle of an important discussion,” Deborah stated, chasing her friend away before she refocused her attention on Isobel.
“My apologies, dearest. Where was I? Oh, yes – as I was saying, my brother is determined to have nothing spoil your perfect day.”
Isobel nodded, the movement slowing down gradually as Deborah’s words echoed in her head, snagging her attention.
Did she just say… her ‘brother’? That would mean they were related if Isobel’s father were her brother.
“Right,” Isobel nodded. “Father is… very reliable.”
Deborah mimicked her nods in agreement.
“He has worked very hard to ensure that you and your siblings. It is a truly wondrous thing for him to witness your betrothal and soon, your wedding.”
There was a time when Isobel wondered if that would be the case.
When she was younger, she had only gotten to meet her siblings' spouses after they had wed, and she wondered if her parents would be able to witness hers.
After their passing, she had sworn off men altogether, dedicating the rest of her life to becoming a nun and had taken up residency at a monastery.
Now that she had met her birth father, who did not seem curious about her unmarried status in the slightest, she did not have any guilt or regret over her decision. In fact, she was glad that Valerie’s betrothal would give Gregory a chance to experience it from at least one of his first daughters.
“I am sure,” Isobel said, raising her gaze momentarily, startled to see that the man from before was still watching her every move. “H-He even seems more invested in it than I am. The wedding, that is.”
Deborah seemed sympathetic as she shook her head. “He’s simply excited, like I said. And he wants this to go well. I feel as though he would be much more relaxed if your husband-to-be were here. Is the work so urgent that he could not simply wait to handle it after the wedding?”