Chapter 4 #2
Isolde’s eyes widened, her stomach rose toward her throat, and she slowly turned as she braced for the inevitable…
The duke stumbled from the cottage at which point Mr. Pembroke took him by the arms, looked him over, and pulled him into a hug. The duke looked surprised by the gesture, but he did not pull away, and when he saw Isolde watching, he smiled at her.
Once Mr. Pembroke pulled away, he spoke to the duke in a hushed whisper, the worry clear on his face, as was the confusion on the duke’s. Isolde watched the interaction closely, trying to discern what was being said as she waited for the cry of outrage that was sure to come.
“Thank God this is over…” Her father came in beside her. “Mr. Pembroke seems like a reasonable fellow, if not a bit rigid.” He laughed and then started to cough. “Truly, I think he was just concerned for his master.”
“Yes… concerned…” Isolde continued to watch the duke and Mr. Pembroke’s interaction.
“This is as good as could have been hoped for,” her father continued. “We did our duty, Isolde. Hopefully, the duke will remember it.”
She winced. “I have no doubt he will.”
“Isolde…” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I know how hard it was for you, caring for a man for whom you have no love. But you did the right thing, and such acts of selflessness are not easily forgotten. You will come to see in time that this was for the best.”
Wide-eyed, her brother and sister looked from the duke to his carriage. They were young and innocent, and this was possibly the most exciting day of their lives.
Her father looked at Isolde with both love and concern, as well as pride. He trusted her implicitly, knowing that she would always do as she must to keep their heads above water.
But I have ruined everything! How could I have done this? My father… my brother and sister… I have destroyed their lives.
“Father…” Isolde’s chest tightened, and her chin began to tremble. “There is something I need to tell you. But please, know that what I did, I thought… I thought it was for the best.”
“Isolde…” He saw the fear behind her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I made a terrible mistake,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. “But I will do whatever I must to make sure it does not affect you or Marianne and Thomas. I promise you, it will not.”
“What did you do?” Her father looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “Isolde…”
“Miss Whitmore.” Mr. Pembroke appeared suddenly in front of her. His expression was severe and controlled. “I believe that you and I need to have a little chat.”
“Surely, such things can be done on the way?” The duke limped toward them, and when he reached Isolde, he took her by the hand.
“A moment ago, you were telling me how urgent it was that we returned to my… my manor.” He chuckled and shook his head.
“I am sorry, such things are still a little surprising to hear.”
Isolde’s father looked at the duke’s hand wrapped tightly around his daughter’s. Then he looked at the duke, caught his gaze… and his own eyes widened with understanding.
“Isolde…”
“I am sorry, Father,” she said with shame as she bowed her head.
“I would prefer we have this conversation here,” Mr. Pembroke said carefully. “Your Grace, such things… they are not…”
“Not what?” the duke asked. “I might not have my memory, but you have assured me just now, Mr. Pembroke, that you are my personal steward, yes?”
“That is correct.”
“As you explained, your charge is to do as I request? To serve me, and without question. Your words.”
“I…” Mr. Pembroke clenched his jaw, the facade of control holding strong, albeit under protest. “That is correct, Your Grace. What you command, I do, and without question. But in this instance—”
“In this instance, I think it best that we return home,” the duke cut him off. “I am tired, Mr. Pembroke. I am famished. And I cannot begin to explain how much pain I am in…” He groaned as he touched his head. “Whatever it is you wish to speak to Miss Whitmore about can wait.”
Isolde was speechless. Even if she was not, what could she possibly have said? Now might have been the right time to tell the duke the truth, and possibly soften the blow by making it appear as if he had misunderstood her.
And yet… the way he held her by the hand, how close he stood, and that look he had worn when he saw her this morning, confirmed that such lies would only make things worse. As if things could get any worse.
Stranger still, while Mr. Pembroke scowled at her, no doubt knowing that she had duped the duke, he appeared unwilling to say as much.
The duke might have been new to this, but he was learning quickly. He was in charge. Mr. Pembroke did not look as if he was ready to argue and disobey him, and that might just save her… at least for a time.
“Very well,” Mr. Pembroke said, his voice a cold warning. “Miss Whitmore, I suggest you say farewell to your family. We leave at once.” He looked at her with a scowl, a shared conversation that only Isolde understood, and he turned and strode away.
“He assures me that we are good friends,” the duke chuckled as he watched him go. “And truly, I do not know why, but I trust him. I guess that will have to do for now.” He exhaled and looked back at her. “Shall we?”
“Might I…” Isolde felt her father’s eyes on her. “Might I speak to my family quickly? I will meet you at the carriage.”
“Of course.” He squeezed her hand again, and once more, the look he gave her was one filled with affection and utmost trust. It broke her heart… “But do not take long,” he chuckled. “I might miss you.”
The duke shook his head and smiled to himself as he walked towards the carriage.
“Father, I can explain.” She turned to her father and winced when she saw his face. He was not angry. He was not upset. Rather, he was just disappointed, which was worse than anything.
“What is going on?” Marianne asked. “Why is Isolde going with the duke?”
“Are we going too?” Thomas asked. “Oh, can we go?”
“Isolde, what have you done?” her father asked.
She grimaced and looked away. “I did not mean it. I just… last evening… when I realized that the duke did not know who I was, I thought about how he had refused to help, while I thought about how much we needed it.”
“What did you say exactly?”
“I told him…” She still could not look her father in the eyes. “I told him that we are engaged.”
Her father groaned.
“It will not go that far,” she spoke quickly, desperately. “Likely, his memory will return any day now.”
“And when it does?” he pleaded. “Isolde, when he learns that you have lied to him? What will you do?”
If only she knew…
“Before that happens, I will have him help you,” she said, a vague idea coming to mind; a plank of wood tossed to her as she drowned, not enough to save her, but enough to keep her head above water. “I will make it so. He will help, Father. I know that he will.”
“That does not answer the question, Isolde. Whether he helps or not, when he finds out that you have lied to him…” He looked toward the carriage, at the duke. “You know what type of man he is.”
“Was,” she said. “He is not that man now.”
“Will you listen to yourself? Will you think about what you are saying?”
“I hear it,” she said. “And I know it was wrong. But there is nothing to be done now. It is too late. All I can do is… I will do what I can and pray that this is not the end of us all.”
What more could she say? What more could she do?
That single lie, that had seemed so small and innocent, was a pit in which she now found herself, and the walls were slowly collapsing so that she might be buried before long.
Before that happened, she would save her family. She had to save her family.
“Trust me, Father.” She took his hands and held them. “I will think of something.” That might have been the biggest lie of all.
With that said, there was nothing left to do but join the duke as he waited.
She kissed her father on the cheek, she hugged Marianne and Thomas tight, and then she walked nervously toward the duke, toward her new life, and toward a fate that was entirely of her own making, and one that she could not escape.