9. Isla
Isla
Saturday came much too soon for Isla. She’d given Uncle James an earful about planning the dinner party and dance behind her back.
She refused to pay for the food or its preparation, making James, who could well afford it, pay for those expenses instead.
She’d also tasked him with providing the servants and staff needed to entertain such a large group of people.
In addition, Isla had announced that since he and Celie thought the dance was such a good idea, they could be responsible for arranging for the chamber orchestra and decorating the ballroom.
That hadn’t been a hardship for Celie. She thoroughly enjoyed spending time in the grand ballroom, with its high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and tall arched windows that allowed natural light to flood the room during the day.
As an added bonus, the many floor-to-ceiling windows offered enchanting views of the fall flowers and meticulously groomed hedges within the gardens while she worked.
They’d had to order replacements for the flowers after the sheep invasion, and James had brought them to Isla’s gardeners the day before so they might plant them in time for the ball.
The ballroom walls were painted in deep, rich colors, and large ornate mirrors were spaced at various intervals, creating a sense of space and reflecting the lights from the chandeliers, giving the room a bright and cheerful look.
The flooring was polished wood designed specifically with ballroom dancing in mind.
Seating areas with small tables for food and drinks were tucked into recessed spaces where guests could rest and socialize.
Potted plants, decorative urns, and sculptures contributed to the overall elegance of the room.
It wasn’t until Celie mentioned that this was the first time the ballroom had been used since her mother’s death that Isla realized she was, indeed, correct.
Had she really allowed herself to become so isolated from the rest of society?
She’d been invited to many galas and had even attended a few.
It was with a sense of shame that she realized that over the last ten years, she’d never reciprocated the invitations.
With a sinking heart, she was again reminded that she was neither the exuberant, vibrant woman her mother had been nor the proper lady everyone said she should be.
While they never spoke of her failings to her face, she often heard the whispers behind her back, which she preferred, in a perverted sort of way.
Dinner had been a painfully long affair.
Her uncle had arranged a five-course meal to be enjoyed by ten couples he considered suitable companions for Lord Jontoreaux.
As was the custom in the city, the men were seated at one end of the table and the women at the other.
Several of the men had served in the King’s navy, and much of their conversation centered around sailing ships, various types of rigging, and which ports they preferred and why.
The women, on the other hand, talked about this year’s attendance at the debutante ball, the latest fashions, and what flowers were blooming in their gardens.
Several times, Isla caught Lord Jontoreaux watching her, but each time their eyes met, he quickly looked away.
Thank God Celie was seated to her right, or Isla would have had to politely converse with Lady Delilah Hadley, whose three eligible daughters would attend the ball later that evening.
Delilah’s diminutive stature belied an overaggressive tendency to push her agenda whenever and wherever she found herself, and this evening was no exception.
Celie tried valiantly to rescue Isla from the woman’s incessant chatter but could barely get a word in edgewise.
As she placed a hand on Isla’s arm and opened her mouth to speak, Delilah cut her off with yet another description of the gowns her daughters would be wearing and how the silk had been purchased as soon as they’d learned Lord Jontoreaux would be making Fachan’s Bay his home.
“As I mentioned to Lord Hadley, I had no doubt Lord Jontoreaux would be a gentleman. Hadn’t the King said so himself?
As you know, Lord Hadley is a personal friend of King Jaydon and?—”
Lady Rushton interrupted her. She was a stout woman somewhere in her fifties whose black-and-white personality wouldn’t allow for the slightest prevarication from any of her friends.
“Lord Hadley has met King Jaydon twice, Delilah. I hardly think the King would consider your husband one of his closest friends.” She sat opposite Delilah, and her reproving sniff wasn’t lost on anyone seated at the table.
Unperturbed, Delilah pushed on. “Yes, well, as I told Lord Hadley, of course, we needed to order skeins of silk so our daughters would have gowns appropriate for the occasion, and so we did.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, intending that the men wouldn’t overhear what she had to say next.
“I think he’ll be most interested in my Corinna.
Her gown is a beautiful blue to complement her eyes, and I think they’d have the most adorable children, all with the combined blue eyes of Lord and Lady Jontoreaux.
” She sat back and beamed at the other women.
Isla pictured Corinna, whose empty-headed lack of intelligence was well-known by everyone in the city.
Celie’s knee pushed against hers, and Isla had to cover her mouth with her napkin since she knew the same thought had occurred to her friend.
Lord Jonto would go running from the room after a single dance with any one of Delilah’s daughters.
None were known for having innovative thoughts running through their pretty little heads except for how to outdo one another on the most ridiculous hairstyles and makeup routines known to womankind.
With a knowing look, Delilah patted Isla’s hand. “How the least eligible, unmarried heiress in the kingdom would be the one to live next door to the newest, most eligible bachelor is such an ironic twist of fate, don’t you think, my dear?”
Taken aback by Delilah’s boorishness, Isla blinked once before Lady Beaulah Minton offered her unsolicited opinion on the subject.
“Now, Delilah, it’s not that our Isla isn’t eligible.
It’s simply that she’s passed up too many proposals.
She’s sailed past her prime and has discovered it’s much more difficult at her age to entice a man to offer his hand in marriage. ”
Celie muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “Thank the goddess for small favors.”
Beulah wrinkled her nose at Celie, who, in her opinion, shouldn’t have been seated at the table with her betters in the first place.
“You’re hardly one to talk, Celine. Perhaps if you had accepted the fishmonger’s proposal twenty-five years ago, you wouldn’t have had to live the life of a spinster. ”
To have people insulting Isla in her own home was one thing, but for them to insult her oldest and dearest friend was quite another altogether. Her back stiffened, and she turned her considerable ire on her guest. “At least she’s not married to a man who?—”
Earlier, James had noticed the stiffening postures at the other end of the table and had tuned into the conversation.
Hearing Beulah’s words and knowing how Isla’s temper flared in defense of her friends, he rose faster than should have been possible for such a rotund man.
“I hear the chamber orchestra tuning their instruments. Perhaps we should repair to the ballroom?”
With her blood up, Isla pursed her lips as Jonto also stood and said, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Lord Riordan.
” He walked to a spot between Isla and Celie and offered his arms, one to each woman.
“Would you ladies accompany me to the ballroom? I must admit I’m looking forward to dancing with you both. ”
To the consternation of the other diners, both women rose and accompanied Jonto away from the table.
They repaired to the ballroom, where an endless stream of noblemen, their wives, sons, and daughters filled the room.
Jonto sighed, “If you ladies will excuse me, I must play my part as the charming, captivating Admiral Lord Jontoreaux.” With a cheeky grin, he bowed and went to meet a gentleman who was approaching to introduce himself.
Even though they’d left those empty-headed, loutish, impolite harpies in the other room, Isla’s anger hadn’t yet cooled. Her nostrils flared with every breath, and she absently wondered whether Jonto had made such a hasty retreat because he knew she needed time to gather herself.
Celie took her friend’s hand and squeezed.
“Breathe, Sweet Girl.” She used Isla’s mother’s pet name for her, something she only did when she wanted to invoke Mathilde’s fierce, resilient, indestructible spirit in her friend’s daughter.
“While I understand wanting to answer their insults, this time, it’s better to lift your chin as though their twaddle means nothing to you and your world.
We’re well above their ridicule, and reacting to their taunts feeds their perverse delight at your reaction. ”
When Isla took a breath, Celie continued, “Besides, I’m very content with my life as your mother’s companion and as your friend and mentor.” She grinned. “Can you imagine me as a fishwife?”
A bubble of laughter burst from Isla. “Oh, great goddess, no.” She leaned in and kissed her friend on the cheek. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” Looking Celie in the eye, she added, “I am sorry you’re alone, though.”