Chapter 4
Four
Having left yesterday’s painting to thoroughly dry overnight, Isabel removed the remaining bits of grass from the stretched paper and leaned the frame against a shelf.
The painting was more ruined than she thought originally.
The stray bits of grass and dust had displaced the color and added texture where it should not be.
Much as she had used a sprinkle of salt on a night sky.
Still, it would be useful as a color study if she wished to recreate the scene in oils.
However, she was running short of pigment and still needed to complete her mother’s birthday gift.
A painting of the garden in spring. The last time she had asked David to purchase art supplies in Town he had returned with the cheapest of paints and paper.
The colors were disappointingly dull, and the paper ripped when it got wet.
She could not trust him to procure oils for her.
Mamma would be out of mourning in time for the last Little Season.
Perhaps then they could go to Town, if not for the season then for nothing but the privacy.
She and Mamma could live in the townhouse without Susanna constantly looking over their shoulders.
A trait that had been annoying when Susanna had first moved in.
However, since father’s death and the birth of her nephew, it had grown increasingly perturbing.
Isabel never knew when she would find Susanna watching.
It was almost worth enduring parties, dinners, and balls to be away. Almost.
Isabel found she preferred social occasions in small doses and not the constant rush of the season and its relentless pace. Never knowing who was friend or foe.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. Isabel opened the door a few inches. A footman stood outside.
“His lordship requests you visit him in his study within the hour.” Her brother knew enough to give her time to clean up from whatever she was doing.
“I’ll be down shortly.”
His lordship? Oh, she missed the days when Father would come see her paintings for himself.
David claimed to like her paintings but did not protest when her landscapes were removed from the breakfast room or the parlor in favor of yellowing works that once decorated the guest chambers.
At least David, unlike his wife, left well enough alone in her daily comings and goings.
After putting the last of her supplies away, Isabel locked the little attic room and went downstairs to her brother after stopping at her room to change into a more presentable dress.
Since the study door was open, she didn’t bother to knock before entering.
“—it is better that way.” Susanna looked up. “Did you forget to knock?”
You are like what is said that the frying-pan said to the kettle, ‘Avant, black-browes?’ The quote from Don Quixote popped into her mind as Isabel touched the open door. “The door was open, so I saw no reason to knock as I was expected.”
Susanna huffed. “Still, you should warn people of your presence.”
What Isabel wouldn’t give to have heard the first part of the conversation that put Susanna on guard. “I would have announced myself as soon as you finished speaking. In this house, an open door has always meant an open invitation.”
“May I remind you, this is not your house any longer?”
“Susanna.” David’s voice was sharp. “We have spoken about this. Leadon Hill remains the home of my mother and siblings for as long as they need it to be. Isabel is correct, the door was open.”
With a huff, Susanna left the room.
“Izz, close the door, will you?” His use of her pet name told her she had not been summoned to his study as she was not in trouble.
Had her brother been told of Mr. Dalrymple’s presence and her refusal to invite him in yesterday afternoon?
Now that Susanna was Lady Godderidge, she certainly could have asked him in, and Mamma, secluded in the blue parlor, need not be bothered.
Had Mr. Dalrymple seen through her thin excuse?
Isabel closed the door and sat in the chair next to the small desk, once her father’s domain.
“My apologies for Susanna, she has been—” David waved a hand helplessly. “—different since little Oliver’s birth.”
Fractious, irritable, ill-natured, petulant, suspicious… Isabel filled in the blank. “I should not have snapped back at her.”
David sighed. “That is not why I asked you to see me. I would like your opinion on the harvest fair. Susanna wishes us to cancel it since there will be such a poor harvest, and she feels it is a poor use of her time.”
“What does Mamma say?”
David ran his hand through his hair. “She reminded me she is now the dowager and that her opinion no longer signifies.”
Frustrating. Mamma had been deferring to Susanna for months, resulting in various minor disasters, not the least of which was the new mustard-colored draperies in the rose parlor. “Did Mamma say she would be willing to help?”
“She said she would do anything Susanna asked of her.”
“Are you asking me to step in?”
“Um,” David slid a finger between his mussed cravat and his neck.
“I am not sure what to ask of you. I feel that letting the tradition end in my first year as Lord Godderidge harms everything our parents did for Leadon Hill and the entire area. Susanna didn’t enjoy working the fair either of the last two years. ”
“The fair is not for her enjoyment. It is to thank all of those who work so hard.”
David sighed. “As she has been told for two years.”
Her poor brother, he loved his wife as near as Isabel could tell, but Susanna was not meant to be a country lady and chafed at the Godderidge lifestyle.
Isabel thought she might do the same if she had to live in Town much of the year.
“If I am to oversee the fair, I need Susanna and Mamma’s support.
Jane Lightwood will do as much as she can, but it was George who knew the fields and harvests.
Alex may come for the month to help. Rose will be back at school.
I cannot take on such an event alone. Especially, when we do so much of the labor. You will still have much to do.”
“I believe I can do all that father did. Mr. Dalrymple may help again this year.”
Not him! She could not work with Mr. Dalrymple.
“Izz?”
“What?”
“You had a strange look on your face. Is something wrong?”
Her brother was burdened enough. She could avoid Mr. Dalrymple, he would work on different events anyway. “No, nothing.”
“So would you be willing to take over the planning?”
With more than three decades of fairs to draw on, preparing the 1816 fair should not be difficult. “I will.”
David visibly relaxed. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“Likely as much as it does to me. I can’t imagine autumn without a harvest fair.
Perhaps we could get Edward and Deborah to come.
He might win the archery contest since George is now in America.
” Isabel did not bother keeping the laughter out of her voice that would earn retribution if Edward were to hear.
“I will write to him.” David pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.
“Without consulting Susanna?”
“All of my siblings are welcome at Leadon Hill. Whenever they wish.”
Which was exactly why Morris and Nigel were spending much of the holiday with friends, since the welcome they received at home was less than warm.
Susanna had combined the boys into one room so that she could redecorate one for Oliver, who would not leave the nursery for years yet.
Mamma had warned Susanna off such a course as the rivalry that had developed over the last few years between her younger brothers had reached a point where forcing them to share a space was unwise.
Isabel hoped, along with Mamma, that the boys would naturally end the feud between them.
“Then send Edward my love and bid him haste. We are all due the boost of merriment that he and Deborah will bring.”
Isabel stood to leave. David stood as well. “There is one other little thing. Susanna wants me to take you to London for the entirety of the Little Season. She is adamant that if you do not find a husband this season, you will be quite on the shelf.”
“This is only my third season.”
“You missed all of last season. You have been out in society for four years now. According to my wife that counts against you. With the addition to your dowry with father’s passing, it should not be difficult to secure a match.”
Isabel’s fists balled. This was Susanna’s doing. “I have barely reached my maturity. I have years yet before all I am good for is to be the doting aunt. I am hardly on the shelf.”
“Mamma will be in mourning until mid-November. But I may entice her to go as well. If not, Susanna says she will come to Town to be your chaperone.”
Isabel would rather spend a week of calling times in Mr. Dalrymple’s presence than have her sister-in-law chaperone her to events.
Susanna would be the worst kind of chaperone, arranging outings and dances with men just like her.
Her sister-in-law should not want to leave her son so soon.
Mamma had only gone to Town with the entire family and never when her younger brothers were still in the nursery. “What of Oliver?”
“We can take him. Between Mamma and our nurse, he will be well watched over.”
“What if we wait to discuss this until after the harvest fair?”
“Susanna says you need new gowns ordered.”
“Nonsense, I have the ones I ordered for last season. They only need a tuck here and a ribbon there and they will be the height of fashion.” The last person in the ton she would allow to dictate any part of her wardrobe was Susanna.
If she could, Isabel would wear the ridiculous pannier hoops required at court every day to foil her sister-in-law.
As well as the old-fashioned heeled shoes she preferred since it brought her closer in height to her brothers.
She loved to be included when others spoke of the tall Godderidges.
David sighed. “Do what you will with the suggestion of a season. I will not force you to go if you do not wish. However I have one request. Save the harvest fair.”
“I fully intend to.” How to have what she wished? That was a problem for tomorrow.
Victor took the note from the silver tray the footman held. “Did Lord Godderidge’s footman say he would wait for a reply?”
“No.” The footman left the study, closing the door behind him.
This was not the first message from the new Lord Godderidge, still they were rarer than the ones from his father regarding their near-weekly chats. Victor broke the seal.
Dalrymple—
If it is convenient, I wish to call on you with my sister on Thursday afternoon at two. I have matters to discuss that are best handled away from my residence.
Godderidge
No, it would not be convenient. Having a judgmental female member of the ton in his parlor would never be convenient.
Especially one who went to great lengths to look down on him.
It was a wonder the woman did not take up wearing stilts.
He had read something about wooden shoes worn in Japan that were over six inches high.
Perhaps a pair of those would interest Miss Godderidge.
For any reason, a visit by Lord Godderidge and his sister so soon after their meeting at the ruins and near the house did not bode well.
Yes, they had been alone, but they had not touched.
He’d been very careful—oh no, he had steadied the woman when she nearly stepped on her marvelous, but ruined, painting.
When he handed her the lost paint cake, he’d been careful not to touch her hand.
Even if someone had witnessed the interactions, they were innocent.
They had come into more contact on the dance floor than they had yesterday afternoon.
There could be no other purpose for Godderidge to visit with his sister than to force him into marriage as some marriage minded mamas had already tried.
But for what purpose? Godderidge did not need his money.
Neither he nor his father gambled. Leadon Hill was prosperous despite the crop failures gripping all of England and Europe.
And Miss Godderidge did not seem to be in a hurry to find a husband, least of all him.
If she had told her brother lies— Victor refused to be roped into a most onerous marriage, no matter how desperate Miss Godderidge may be.
He could almost hear the Japanese clogs clapping on the marble tiles in the entry hall, feel the locked door barring him from the windowed room that would make a delightful painting studio, and taste the silent dinners stretching time to its very limits.
If he had to choose a wife today, which he did not, Miss Isabel Godderidge would be at the bottom of his list. She was more than pleasant to look at with her statuesque form and grey blue eyes.
Her hair too dark to be blond and too light to be brown suited a painter.
All of which was true enough. And if, like some, a pretty face was all he wished for, then Miss Godderidge would do.
However, since he wished for companionship, nothing Lord Godderidge could say would entice him to wed Miss Godderidge.
Since it would be the height of rudeness to refuse Lord Godderidge’s unusual request, Victor pulled out a fresh piece of paper, claimed to be honored by the visit, and expressed his willingness to host.
After sending the response off, he called for his housekeeper and requested the grandest tea she could conjure, with two days’ notice, and stay within the restrictions he had set for not wasting food in a year that was likely to lead to famine.
He would not let it be said that his hospitality was lacking in any way.
Then he went to the parlor and surveyed it with a critical eye.
He ordered his Mary Moser floral still life to be replaced by a haunting landscape by J.M.W.
Turner. Depriving Miss Isabel of viewing the piece was the only rebellious action he could take to slight her that would satisfy him and him alone.