Molly Ann Wishlade

A Most Improper Proposal


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      ‘Yes, thank you. I slept all evening and all night and I feel much better. In fact, I am positively ravenous this morning!’

      And radiant, Isabella thought, a warmth spreading from her belly at the joy Henrietta brought.

      With that, Henrietta began tucking into her breakfast, making up for the lack of appetite that afflicted her companions at the table.

      Isabella sipped her strong tea and watched Lady Watson over the edge of her cup. This would not do. The Lady was too old to suffer from shock and Isabella felt that she must do everything in her power to protect her. If that meant standing in the way of Lord Crawford and whatever it was about him that so affected Lady Watson, then that was what she would commit herself to doing. Lady Watson had helped her and it was time to repay the debt.

      ‘Will you come for a drive this morning, Lady Watson?’

      The older woman looked across the table at her companion.

      ‘What dear?’

      ‘I asked if you would come out in the carriage this morning. Some fresh air might be of benefit to you.’

      ‘That would be lovely, dear,’ Lady Watson replied with a faint smile, ‘But remember, I am expecting a visitor.’

      ‘Ooh, a visitor!’ Henrietta exclaimed. ‘Who is coming?’ she asked through a mouthful of buttered muffin.

      ‘Henrietta,’ Isabella admonished. ‘Do not speak with food in your mouth.’

      ‘Sorry,’ Henrietta made a show of chewing then swallowing. ‘Whom are we expecting?’

      Isabella bit her lip and looked at Lady Watson.

      ‘My nephew, dear.’

      Henrietta frowned and turned to Isabella for clarification.

      ‘Lord Crawford, Lady Watson’s sister’s son, has returned to London. We met him last night at Almack’s. It seems that he is to pay Lady Watson a visit this morning.’

      Henrietta nodded then frowned again.

      ‘Why didn’t he visit you before attending a social event?’

      ‘Henrietta…’ Isabella scowled across the table. The girl really lacked manners at times, there were some things that you just didn’t ask. But a noise from Lady Crawford made her turn in confusion, for the old lady had started to laugh.

      ‘Oh Henrietta, dear, you are a funny girl. So many people think things but never have the courage to say them but you…’ she pointed a finger at the girl, ‘you just say whatever is in your head and I adore you for it.’

      Henrietta smiled from under her dark lashes and took a gulp of her tea, smearing butter over the rim of her teacup. Isabella fought the urge to instruct the girl to wipe it off. Who else was there to see it and disapprove?

      Isabella felt that she would never understand other people. Society was so strict about what one could or couldn’t do and if you stepped out of the set boundaries, or if a family member did not conform in some way, then you and your nearest and dearest faced public scandal. In fact, in the flick of a fan you could become a social pariah. As well she knew.

       Mayhap it was more than a flick of a fan… four golden rings…

      Her old shame lifted its ugly head. Oh if only she could take back her past. She vowed though to protect Henrietta from frivolous behaviour. She could at least do that.

      And yet somehow, here she was, companion to a wonderful aristocrat who had turned all of the rules and regulations upside down. Lady Watson had taken in Isabella with her shadowy past and her tarnished reputation without a second thought and she seemed immune to the opinions of her peers; unaffected by the sneers and sniggers that occurred behind raised fans whenever she appeared in public with Isabella by her side. She appeared to be truly fearless and Isabella found herself constantly bursting with admiration for her because of it.

      Then, as if her acceptance of Isabella was not enough, the great Lady had become guardian to little Henrietta. Isabella recalled the conversation regarding the girl’s imminent arrival clearly.

      ‘Isabella, we are to have a new companion.’

      ‘We are?’

      ‘Yes, dear. A Miss Henrietta Pembrey. She has been… asked to leave her boarding school so I have invited her to stay with us.’

      ‘Asked to leave? But why?’ Isabella had frowned.

      ‘Her… funding… her benefactor has passed… and the school’s patroness does not wish her to remain there any longer.’

      ‘But that is awful, Lady Watson. She cannot pay so she is to be cast out?’

      ‘I agree with your sentiments, dear, but people will do what they will do. I am convinced that Miss Pembrey will benefit from living in a secure and comfortable environment where she will receive nourishment and affection and be able to avoid stressful situations… like the embarrassment of having no money to call her own.’

      ‘You mean here… with us?’

      The Lady had nodded.

      ‘Does she have no family?’

      ‘The poor girl was apparently abandoned by her own mother because of her illegitimacy, my dear. Such things sometimes happen unfortunately.’

      ‘Illegitimacy? Really, Lady Watson?’ Isabella had made an effort to pull her eyebrows down to their normal position.

      ‘Yes and I suspect that she was born to a lady from the upper echelons of society, conceived as the result of an illicit affair and then placed ‒ out of sight, out of mind ‒ in a girls’ boarding school.’

      Isabella had nearly choked on her tea.

      ‘But how would a… a lady get away with such behaviour? Would her husband not notice?’

      ‘Mayhap he did, mayhap he didn’t.’ Lady Watson had shrugged as if such things did not matter and Isabella had accepted that the conversation was over.

      Thus, six months ago, after Isabella had been with Lady Crawford for almost a year, Henrietta had joined their country household and had now accompanied them to London for the season. Isabella knew though, that Henrietta’s chances of finding a suitable match would be as limited as her own now were. What man of the ton would stain his reputation by connecting with a woman of no name? Henrietta would need guarding from the pain that forming an attachment could bring and Isabella longed to shield the girl from anything that could hurt her. Namely, men.

      Lady Watson finished her tea then rose from the table. Isabella watched as she placed her hands upon the back of her chair to steady herself.

      ‘Girls… I would appreciate your company this morning when Lord Crawford visits.’

      ‘Of course,’ Isabella replied quickly, having no intention of leaving Lady Watson alone with the man who had clearly abandoned her and caused her significant pain.

      ‘However,’ the Lady raised a shaky hand, ‘we will require some privacy as we have much to discuss. So, following pleasantries, I would appreciate it if you retire to the window seat.’

      Isabella smarted at the idea but what could she do? She would just have to keep an eye on the dark figure of Lord Crawford and ensure that he did not place too much strain upon his aunt. For as brave as Lady Watson might be, Isabella had last evening seen a chink in her armour in the shape of the lady’s nephew, and she had no intention of allowing that chink to be penetrated by a weapon of the heart or mind.

      * * * *

      Waiting in the parlour, Isabella found it hard not to fidget. The room was cool, dark and uncomfortably quiet. Lady Watson sat on a high backed chair next to the fire, warming her feet and appearing engrossed in her embroidery while Henrietta sat next to Isabella at the window seat.

      She