When the chambermaid had removed the empty tray he stretched out on the day bed in front of the fire. He had not slept since Isobel had run away, every time he closed his eyes he relived his actions and woke sweating and ashamed. He no longer attempted to sleep in his room but took catnaps in his study whenever his eyes refused to stay open.
As he was drifting off to sleep he reviewed what he knew about Isobel’s flight. He was certain she had at least three hundred pounds in her possession. Each quarter she had the full amount of her allowance and, as far as he was aware, had spent none of it on frills and furbelows. The cost of maintaining her two servants was negligible. Had she somehow anticipated that one day this moment could come and she would need funds to make good her escape?
When Foster had informed him Isobel was hoarding money in her closet he had been horrified his staff believed he wished them to spy on her. He had told Foster in no uncertain terms to mind his own business and make sure the staff did the same. No further reports were given to him, but with hindsight he realised this surveillance had probably continued. Should he ask his butler if he knew where Isobel intended to go? What was he thinking? He would never discuss his wife with that dried up stick of a man.
He jackknifed, all desire for sleep vanishing. There was one thing he
The two weeks passed with no news of Isobel. She appeared to have vanished without trace. He could procrastinate no longer. He’d had word from his lawyers that one, Richard Bentley Esq, had been located and was on his way to meet him in Town.
Newcomb was under holland covers, several diligences had already departed with items of furniture that he could not live without plus the majority of his wardrobe. The exodus was like a military operation. Transferring over a hundred staff and their belongings, as well as his own, to Grosvenor Square required careful planning and execution. He would be glad to turn his back on this place. The building now held nothing but unhappy memories. His first wife and daughters had died here and then Isobel had left him.
He was resigned to the fact she might never come back, that he would have to spend the rest of his life alone. He would never divorce her. He had no wish for another wife. Isobel was everything a man could want.
Lady Fulbright, his ex-mistress had cornered him at a card party the last time he’d been in Town and made it blatantly obvious she was more than willing to resume their relationship. He recalled the heartache his father had caused by his frequent adulteries and firmly rebuffed her overture.
He shook his head. He would never be so self-indulgent; stopping his drinking and gambling was only half the task. To give in to the demands of the flesh would make him a lesser man. Indeed, he was in every way a much reduced specimen. His years of overindulgence showed in the flab on his once lean torso. If he attempted a round at Jackson’s he would be floored in seconds. That was something else he would pay attention to. Whether he ever persuaded Isobel to return or not he would get himself back in shape, be someone she could respect, even if she could never forgive.
One day his men would discover her whereabouts. He would ride to her and she would see the difference in him and would know he was a changed man. Maybe the she might reconsider. He closed his eyes and her image filled his head. The way she used to smile at him, the way her eyes lit up when he entered the room, her delight when he returned to her and the refreshing innocence with which she welcomed him into her bed. How could he have been so stupid? She had offered him something precious and like a fool he’d crushed her gift beneath his feet.
Chapter Eight
Isobel sat back her forehead clammy, her head spinning and thanked God the retching was over. Mary removed the basin and replaced it with a clean vessel. Isobel accepted a cool drink, rinsed her mouth and spat the last of the noxious matter into the bowl. There was no doubt; she had to accept the impossible. She was increasing.
“I shall have to return to Newcomb, Mary, I don’t wish to, but I am with child. I’ve suspected so for some time but could scarcely believe it. I haven’t had my courses since we arrived and that must be more than eight weeks ago. Whatever my feelings for the duke, I can’t deny this child its birthright.”
Mary nodded. “I’ve known for weeks, madam, but didn’t like to say considering the circumstances. I’ve been waiting for you to draw the same conclusion. You needed time to recover from what happened without further anxiety. But Sam and I have things organised. We can be ready to leave any time you want.”
Sally Harris, who had been turned off by her previous employers, had joined them a few days after their arrival at Home Farm. The young woman now acted as her abigail. Isobel turned to her. “Sally, I shall be returning to Hertfordshire, to Newcomb, are you willing to accompany me?”
“I’d be delighted, madam, if you’re sure the likes of me will be allowed to serve you at such a grand place.”
Isobel stood up, smiling at the young woman she’d become quite fond of these past weeks. “It will be very different from living here.I intend to have my own people around me. You’ll be answerable to me and no one else.”
Sally curtsied. “I’ll get started packing your clothes, madam, if you don’t require my services.”
“No, I wish to speak to Mrs Watkins. I shall ring if I need you.”
The two basins were removed to the dressing room leaving Mary alone with her. “I’ll not be browbeaten by the staff this time; I intend my return to be on
“You have our full support, and I’m certain sure the others you’ve taken on here will be more than happy to come with us.”
“Bill has made an excellent footman so he shall be my butler. His experience serving as a valet to a brigadier during the war, has given him all the skills he needs for this post. His leg injury has been no impediment to his efficiency so far.” Isobel considered the other staff. The cook and kitchen maid, a mother and daughter had been made homeless when the man of the house died. These two would be pleased to accompany her. However the two women who came in to do the heavy work had families of their own. They would wish to remain in Norfolk. She would leave the maintenance of the house in their capable hands.
“Will you please inform everyone, Mary? Betty and Ada will require sufficient funds to tide them over until our return.”
“Yes, madam.” Mary fiddled with an apron before continuing. “Shall we call you by your title in future? Being plain Mrs Baverstock is all very well out here in the country, but at Newcomb things will be different.”
Isobel was relieved her friend made no comment about her intention to return. “I have no choice so I suppose it’s better to resume my title now and become used to hearing myself addressed by it. I wish to leave the day after tomorrow; I’m sure the roads will have dried by then.”
They would need both the gig and the ancient travelling carriage Sam had purchased in order to transport everyone to Newcomb. The two outside men were competent with horses so could act as coachmen leaving Sam to ride Sultan, the gelding she’d acquired from a local farmer.
She had been thinking about her return for the past few weeks. She had guessed she was pregnant but refused to accept it. When the baby was born, whether boy or girl, she intended leave the infant with her husband and return to Home Farm. Alexander would never let her take the baby with her. Unless she was prepared to live with him again she must abandon her child. She swallowed the lump in her throat at this hideous thought. She blinked back tears—time enough to consider her options when the baby arrived safely.
The farm was almost self-sufficient and with good management it might even produce a surplus to be sold on. The day workers must continue to take care of the livestock in her absence.
“Mary, I don’t mean to move into Newcomb; I shall occupy the east wing. The old part of the house has not
