Chapter Four
As their journey progressed into midday,Isabella fanned herself, but to no avail. Thesunbeat down upon the black coach, and caused theairinside to become stifling.
Perspiration hadsoondampened her hair, making it hang in straggling disarray about her shoulders. At this point, she’d given up any hope of trying to arrange it into even a simple chignon. She didn’t have so much as a brush with her on this unexpected journey, whenshe normally traveled with several trunks, her ladies’ maid, and a footman.
But then, nothing about this trip was conventional. Sheshouldhave been a happily married bride on her honeymoon with her husband—instead she was…here.
She would love nothing more than a relaxing bath, but she didn’t know what sortof provisions she might expectonce they arrived at the castle, even if Ridge had assured her it boasted nearly all the comforts she might find in London.
She supposed shewould find out soon enough, for the coachman was already pulling the team to a halt.
Ridge exited first, then offered a hand to help her down. She accepted somewhat reluctantly, but found that the stilted awkwardnesswhichhad surrounded themduring most of the ridewas wiped away by the gentle breeze that caressed her face the moment her feet touched the ground. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the salt water blowing in off the coast. She could hear thegentle crash of the waves upon the shore,andasmiletugged at her lips.
It was as if she was back in Brighton, where,as children,sheand her elder brotherhad goneswimmingwith their parents. With the growing popularity of the bathing machines, it had been ever so enjoyable to wade out into the water and immerse herselfin thesea.
She wondered if her“warden”would allow her the same courtesy. Under his strict supervision, of course.
She opened her eyes to find thatthegraystone fortification before her stole the rest of her attention.She had to admit that Walmercastle was quite impressive. It boastedfourcircular shaped outer bastions,with a large, impressivestructurebuilton top.Itwas like some sort of magnificent cake placed directly upon the sand.
Ridge must have noticed her awe, for hesaid, “The castle was built during the age of King Henry VIII to ward off enemy attacks that might come ashore.It’s one of three located a short distance away atDealand Sandown.”
“I didn’t even know it existed,” she admitted. “Isuppose I neglectedmy history lessons more than I imagined.”
His lips quirked, but he said nothing as heledher toward the bridge thatwould take themto the entrance. She glanced over the side and noticed that at one point there must have been a moat, but the ditch had dried up over the years.
She could almost imagine thatshe was exploring the era of the Medieval knights, although the legendary tale of King Arthurhad taken placelong before this castle even existed. But as she looked at Mr. Claymoore, walking tall and confident before her, she could well imagine in him in a suit of battle armor, prepared to fight to the death for his country.
He knocked firmly on thewooden door at the end of the walkway, which was opened moments later by an older gentleman. He stood tall andboasteda wealth of gray hair, but hisexpressionwas pleasant enough.Beside him was a buxom woman with graying brown hair pulled back into a simple bun.After a brief conversationensuedbetweenthe three ofthem,Mr. Claymooreturned toIsabellaand waved a hand as he made the introductions. “This is Mr. Hopper, theporter, and his wife, Mrs. Hopper.May I present,Lady Isabella, Viscountess Wistenberry.”
Mr. Hopper inclined his head politely. “My lady.”
Isabella smiled in return. “Mr. Hopper.”
Mrs. Hopper, on the other hand, reached out and took Isabella’s hands in her own and said, “I’ll be the cook while you’re here, so if you need anything at all, don’t be hesitant to ask.It’s so nice to have another lady around!” She chuckled lightly. “But listentome gab on. I best get the supper on.No doubt you’re famished after such a journey.”Hersmile broadened as she turned andhustled away.
Isabellafollowed Mr. Claymoore and Mr. Hopperinside,whereher jawpromptlywent slack. She wasn’t surewhat she’d been expectingbefore now, perhapsa crumbling interior, butinstead, a brick walkway surrounded by a lush green lawnmet her gaze.
Cannons were still in placefrom the early days of war, eachwithinasemi-circularring, as if waiting for the moment they might be fired once more. Isabella shuddered at the thought, for the war with France was still ongoing.But now that several countries hadrecentlyreentered the battle against Napoleon, she prayed that the fight would remain far from British soil.Even so, she couldn’t help but ask, “Are the guns still used?”
Mr. Hopper turned to her with an easysmile. “No, my lady.In fact, you’ll actually be staying in the Gunners’ Cabins, asLord Liverpoolwrote ahead letting us know of your arrival. He also wanted to make sure you knew you were free to explore his apartments at your leisure.”
“That was kind of him.” Isabella made a mental note to thankthe earl when she returned to London, or if he was able to make it to the castle during her stay.
As they continued on, she thought that she might not be bored after all, for surely there were plenty of tunnels and pathways to explore, as well as the expansive gardens. The possibilities were endless in such a massive place. And, of course, the view from the top of themaster’s quarterswould undoubtedly, be quite remarkable.
“These will be your quarters,my lady.” The caretaker’s kind voice broke through her musings.
He opened a door to reveal a sizeable room that was surprisingly cheery.But it wasthemassive mahogany four-poster bed in the middle of the roomthat captured her attention.After traveling to Gretna Green and back to London and all the way to Kent without much of a break in between,sleeping in an actual bed, instead of a cramped carriage, was ratherinviting.A modest fireburnedin the hearth,andwith thewhitewashedwalls and thegleaming woodenfloor at her feet,it seemed rather cozy indeed.
She looked beyond the main room to a small alcove set on the other side of theroom, andsawa clear glass windowthat looked out to the sea.Shecouldn’t help but wonderhow manysoldiershad stood in that very spot and waited for their opponent to arrive.
Ayoung womanwanderedinto view,and Isabella’s jawwent slack once again. “Claudia!How did you—?”She couldn’t even finish her sentence, as tears stung her eyesand emotion choked her throat. She rushed over to her ladies’ maid andtheyembraced. In London it wouldn’t have been appropriate to act so informally with a servant, but Isabella didn’t care. She was just so thankful to see a familiar—and trustworthy—face. When she pulled back, shefinished her query.“What are you doinghere?”
The girlnodded her brown head, which wasmostlycovered with a mobcap. “Mr. Claymoore sent for me a couple days ago.He asked me to pack a few of your things and meet you here.”
Isabella lowered her voicesomewhat.“You never thought to question his motives?”
“And yet, hereyouare.” Mr. Claymoore’s deep, mocking voice made Isabella start guiltily, for she’d nearly forgotten he was there.Her face heated, but hemerelyoffered a brief incline of his headand a rather smug expression.“We’ll leave you to get settled.”
