For an instant, it was like a black veil had dropped over the sun.
She couldn’t speak. Everything—the wind sweeping through the grass, the distance voices of her brother and sister— had suddenly gotten quite loud and harsh and sinister.
The sooner he left, the sooner he would return, she told herself.
And the sooner the rest of their lives together would begin.
Wasn’t this the case? Why else would he take her aside to tell her this?
She had absolutely no frame of reference for this moment. She felt hopelessly young and lost.
She seized upon the truest thing she knew and clung to it: she loved him and she was certain he loved her. She could not imagine this changing.
And so…she chose faith.
When she did, she was able to draw a breath, and the sun came out again.
“Isolde…” He cleared his throat. His voice was so hoarse it was nearly a whisper. “If you would prefer me to sta?—”
“Jacob,” she interjected gently but firmly. “I cannot wait to hear about the people you meet and the things you see and learn. And having you home again will be the best birthday gift I can imagine. I am truly so happy you will be able to see a bit of the world.”
He exhaled his relief.
She knew how much it had cost him to even try to get that sentence out.
She didn’t anticipate he would propose now.
Because he couldn’t do it and just leave her to wait.
And yet, for a fleeting moment, a little cinder of something almost like anger flared inside her, for the fact that she was a woman, which meant her destiny would depend almost entirely upon a man.
Suddenly his hand was gently beneath hers, warm and rough, and he was pressing something cool into her palm.
It was an enameled celandine. A pretty thing. It glowed gold in the sun.
It immediately blurred as her eyes filled with tears.
“Wait for me, Zold? Think of me?” His voice was shredded. His heart was in his eyes.
“Of course. Always,” she assured him on a whisper.
Her last memory of Jacob was the echo of his hoofbeats as he galloped away.
ChapterSix
Isaiah hovered in the doorway of the library at Redmond House and studied his sister Diana, who was curled on a settee near the fire, frowning down at the pages of a book. He tried to imagine her galloping and whinnying; it was impossible. His and Diana’s manners had been as ruthlessly, meticulously guided and pruned by their parents as the roses in the garden.
But much like Isaiah, Diana was apparently all the wrong things, at least in the eyes of their father. It was never explicitly said, of course. But it was often implied. For instance, a few months ago, Diana had worn a new green dress to dinner. “You look lovely, Diana,” their mother, who had been considered a great beauty in her day, told her, then turned to her husband. “Darling, don’t you think that color suits your daughter?”
Their father had contemplated his beaming, hopeful daughter.
“You have quite a distinguished nose, Diana,” was all he said finally, brightly. “I just realized you’re the spit of your great Uncle Edward.”
Verdict delivered, he’d returned to his mutton.
If one went by the portrait that hung in the hall, their Great Uncle Edward Redmond had a nose like the prow of a ship.
After dinner, Isaiah had come upon his sister sitting on this very library settee, quietly sobbing into her hands.
