Alexander removed to Town returning a few times each month to do his duty by her. The joy she had once found in his lovemaking was fading. Although he was still more relaxed in the privacy of her chambers he no longer seemed as approachable as he had in the beginning. It became painfully apparent his sole reason for coming to her bed was to conceive a child.
As the festive season approached she asked Alexander what celebrations would take place at Newcomb.
He shook his head. “Nothing at all, Isobel. We attend church and give Christmas boxes to the staff— apart from that we have no traditions.”
“May I arrange to decorate the house? Could we not invite our neighbours? I know it is customary to leave a newly married couple alone initially, but more than six months have passed since we were married and still we have no visitors or invitations.”
“I thought you understood I don’t entertain here. The ball and garden party were exceptions to my rule. I organised the events for you in order to mark your wedding day. If you wish to socialize then you must come to London for the Season.” He smiled sadly. “It would appear there is no reason for you to be confined to the country.”
She flushed; there was nothing she could say. She was apparently unable to have children, small wonder he had little interest in her. To be saddled with a barren wife after he had paid so much to get her, must rankle.
“I’ve no wish to go to London, thank you. However, I have no objection if you prefer to be elsewhere at Christmas.”
His eyebrows shot up at her impertinent comment. “There’s nothing to keep me here. I shall do as you suggest and go to Town, and you must please yourself whilst I’m gone. I shall arrange for your allowance to be paid in coin in future. You have my permission to spend it as you wish.”
When his carriage left the next morning she remained in her bed chamber unwilling to appear before the staff with blotched eyes and running nose. One thing she could do with the pile of gold he’d given her was send for Mary and Sam. She was sure they could find themselves a cottage nearby and bring her beloved dogs with them. Being able to visit with them would give her something to fill her empty days.
Sam and Mary were safely installed in a cottage which could be reached by walking through Home Wood. It needed some repairs to make it habitable but these would soon be done. Ebony and Othello were overjoyed to be reunited with her.
“Mary, I shall come as often as I can to walk the dogs. However, I must be vigilant as Foster, Maynard and the unpleasant girl who has replaced you, spy on me.”
“I’m surprised Lord Drummond did not refuse his permission for us to take the dogs. But he seemed happy for them to go and made no enquiries as to where we were taking them.”
“He obviously does not believe I’ll ever return to Bracken Hall to visit. He and my husband must have come to an arrangement on that score.”
“Will you be requiring luncheon today?”
Isobel frowned. “Rochester is bringing down a group of his friends for the shooting. The Season will be starting next month. Why could they not remain where they were?”
“You mustn’t be tardy; the duke will wish you to be there to greet his guests when they arrive and you must change.”
“Indeed I must. I shan’t be able to visit until he and his guests have gone. Take care of yourselves and my dogs.”
The wind was bitter. Sam had predicted there would be snow before the day was out. She prayed it would come soon and prevent the unwanted visitors from setting out from London. She no longer looked forward to Alexander’s return for there had been no further glimpses of the person she fell in love with— the tender and passionate man who had shared her bed for the first three months of their union. The interludes they spent in bed were still most enjoyable as her body always responded willingly to his touch, but she believed he was no longer fully engaged in what they did.
She hurried in through the side door hoping to return to her chambers without comment. She was waylaid by Maynard with the usual supercilious sneer on her face.
“Your grace, I’ve been waiting for you to approve the menus for the visitors.”
Isobel stiffened and for once did not apologise. “It’s of no interest to me what you have been doing, Maynard. It is your duty to be there when I wish to see
The woman recoiled, unused to being reprimanded. She curtsied, her navy bombazine rustling noisily. “I beg your pardon, your grace. When will it be convenient for you to see the menus?”
“I’ve no interest in them for whatever I say will be ignored. In future don’t bother me with such trivia.” Isobel walked off wishing she had held her tongue, Her duty was to view these things and Alexander would be most displeased when he heard. That he would know was certain. The staff at Newcomb were loyal to him and still treated her as an interloper even after almost a year as their mistress.
She took the little used back stairs and braced herself for another confrontation. Cranford, the abigail Alexander had appointed, had taken to setting out her gowns without requesting permission to do so. Every morning Isobel felt obliged to insist something else was fetched, although if she was honest quite often the ensemble selected by her maid was a better choice than the one she selected for herself.
Her bath was waiting in the small, tiled anteroom used for this purpose. She hastily disrobed glad she’d forbidden Cranford to enter during her ablutions. Today the warm water failed to soothe her and she did not linger. Quickly donning the necessary underpinnings she stepped through to her dressing-room to see what had been put out today.
“I thought the blue velvet afternoon-dress might be suitable, your grace. I don’t believe you’ve worn it more than once and certainly not when there have been guests at Newcomb.”
Isobel was too dispirited to argue. “It will do. Please dress my hair plainly; I require no ribbons or feathers.”
In silence she sat whilst her hair was arranged to her satisfaction, then raising and lowering her arms when necessary. After collecting her cashmere shawl she left her apartment without a second glance at herself in the mirror. What did it matter if she looked her best? Alexander no longer noticed and he was the only gentleman she wished to approve of her appearance.
She was standing dutifully in the freezing entrance hall when the party arrived. Alexander strode in first and smiled briefly before removing his caped coat and tossing it to the waiting footman.
“My dear, that’s a most becoming gown. The weather has deteriorated and I thought we might have to abandon our trip. However, we are here now, but I doubt there’ll be much shooting.”
“Did any of the wives accompany the gentleman this time, your grace?”
“Unfortunately this visit was arranged too quickly to allow the ladies to join us. It might be better if you did not dine downstairs but that’s entirely up to you.”
Her heart lifted; perhaps this gesture showed he still thought of her a little. “Thank you, my lord. I would much prefer to remain apart when there are no ladies present.” The gentlemen would drink too much and behave accordingly—far better to be safe in her apartment until they left. There was something she needed to tell him but now was not the time as, accompanied by a flurry of snow, the gentlemen poured in.
She retreated halfway up the grand staircase; from there she curtsied and bid them welcome before hurrying back to the sanctuary of our own chambers. Her dinner was brought to her on a tray. As always it was beautifully cooked but stone cold. The kitchen was so far from the main part of the house she rarely ate a meal that was more than warm.
The mantel clock struck nine. If she slipped down now maybe she could find Alexander in his study and tell him she was unavailable tonight. Her monthly course had arrived that very morning. He usually timed his visits better; she was regular as clockwork so it was easy for him to avoid the few days she could not welcome him to her bed.
There had seemed no necessity to change so she was still wearing the blue gown from the afternoon. The wall sconces were lit along the wide passageway. There was no need to carry a candlestick at Newcomb unless one wished to go downstairs when all the staff were abed.
