Sorry I didn't get an extra chapter posted today. Real life got in the way, I'm afraid. I'm posting this one now...it's got some interesting disclosures. And I'll be back in a few hours with the next chapter after watching The Post with my DH . . . it's his birthday. :)
xx Elise
~I~
Chapter 29 - Homecoming
Nearing the village of Forkton five days later, Bella regretted her rash overture. Contact with someone so closely related to Edward could only bring her grief.
The journey home had passed uneventfully. Lady Watson, who insisted Bella call her Penelope, was an attractive, dark-haired lady with bright green eyes . . . like Edward. A few years younger than her brother, she had agreed immediately upon reading Carlisle's letter to escort Bella. Accompanied by her maid and a driver, Penelope planned to travel on to visit her sons after leaving Bella and her companions at Swan Manor. She had many exciting tales to tell about the travels she had taken with her late husband during the early years of their marriage, and Bella found herself daydreaming of the life she could have led with Edward if things had been different. Very different.
As the miles and countryside passed, Bella wondered what she would find upon her return to Swan Manor. She wasn't the same person who had fled Forkton, and it was difficult to imagine how she would fit back into her old life. One thing she knew. She would not rest easily until she saw her father face-to-face.
"Finally," Bella whispered when Swan Manor came into view.
As the carriage approached the front of the house, their arrival was noted, and pandemonium ensued. Barely waiting until the vehicle halted, Bella clambered down unaided, indifferent to the spectacle she created. Cries of greeting and welcome assaulted her ears as she was surrounded by familiar faces, but she only had eyes for her father who stood on the front steps. Supported by Mr Waters, he was thinner than she recalled, his usually ruddy complexion overlaid with a greyish pallor. But he was alive when she had never expected to see him again.
A path opened before her, and Bella closed the distance between them, throwing herself into his arms.
"Papa!"
Her tears left a damp patch on his waistcoat as he held her close, repeating her name over and over with a voice clogged with his own unshed tears. Bella felt one splash on her neck, and she looked up to witness the unprecedented sight of her father crying.
"You are alive."
Her words overlapped with her father's declaration, "You are home!"
Laughing and weeping, they made their way into the house.
Ignoring the bare walls and incongruous gaps where generations-old furnishings had once stood, Bella concentrated on seeing her father seated in his favourite chair in the parlour. Before she could get her bearings, she was passed like a Christmas package from the arms of one person to the next in a flurry of reunion. Coming to rest in the embrace of Mrs Waters, the older woman nestled Bella against her ample bosom.
"Me girl's 'ome where she belongs."
The housekeeper sobbed, and it was Bella's turn to offer consolation.
Recalling their guest, Bella extricated herself from Mrs Water's hold and turned to find Penelope standing in the doorway.
"Please, forgive my rudeness."
"That's perfectly understandable, my dear." Penelope came to stand beside her.
"Papa." Bella turned to where he was watching proceedings with a pleased, if slightly watery-looking smile. "I would like you to meet Lady Watson, Uncle Carlisle's sister. She very kindly accompanied me on the journey home."
"Please, remain seated, Sir Charles," Penelope said. "I wouldn't want to be responsible for you suffering a setback."
While Bella knew it must gall her father not to stand and make his obeisance to such a handsome lady, he relented at Penelope's words.
"You are most welcome in my home, Lady Watson," he said. "I owe you a debt of gratitude for seeing to the safe return of my daughter."
"Please, call me Penelope, and it is I who owes the debt, Sir Charles. I've had a delightful time getting to know Isabella. Your daughter is an absolute treasure. Besides, Carlisle knew I would jump at any excuse to travel the countryside."
Bella hoped they didn't seem rude, but the furtive glances she and her father sent each other's way broadcast their desire for privacy. After a few moments spent in polite discourse and some much-appreciated refreshments, Penelope excused herself, citing the need for a rest before dinner to recover from the rigours of their journey. With the household staff returned to their duties, Bella found herself alone with her father at last.
"Isabella," he whispered, and her tears returned in earnest.
"Oh, Papa." She wrapped her arms around him, carefully in deference to his recently healed wounds. "How are you, really?"
"Mending." Her father patted her hand. "But let me look at you?"
She took a seat on a padded footstool, drawing it close to his chair.
"Goodness, you are even more beautiful than I recall," he said.
Bella smiled at his fatherly bias.
"But I fear your adventures have hastened your journey towards womanhood," he continued, and her smile faded, his words cutting a little too close to the bone. "You are a tad pale, of course, but days stuck inside a jostling carriage will accomplish that."
"I am fine, Papa. Just very glad to be home."
"My heart almost gave out when Jacob informed me Carlisle and his new bride had left on their honeymoon before you arrived. Of all the rotten luck." Her father shook his head. "I had forgotten about the wedding when I sent you halfway across the country."
"Papa?" Bella was curious to receive an answer to the question that had plagued her since her arrival at Worthington Hall. "Why were we never invited to visit Uncle Carlisle?"
"But we were. We were even invited to the wedding, as Carlisle would have liked me to stand up with him if we'd been able to attend."
"Why couldn't we attend?"
If they had been away from home when Lord Hunter had arrived for his impromptu visit, it could have saved them a great deal of anguish.
Sir Charles sighed. "I have never spoken to you about my experiences during the war, have I?"
Bella sat back, not having anticipated the direction her father's speech would take.
"Despite noble tales of heroic battles and acts of chivalry, the reality of war is quite different. It can leave a man with scars, hidden as well as visible."
"Go on, Papa." She urged when he faltered, saddened to realise her war-hero father may bear such scars.
"It wasn't as much of an issue when your mother was alive. But after she died, I found it difficult to keep the memories at bay. Here, at home, her presence assists me—as does your company, of course—but when I travel further afield . . ."
"It's all right," Bella said when his words dried up.
A vague memory of the nightmares he had suffered when they had journeyed to the seaside surfaced in her mind.
"I understand . . . a little. I may not have experienced the horrors of war, but I can honestly say I have no desire to leave Forkton, Swan Manor, or you ever again."
Her father could not know how serious she was, not being in possession of all the facts, and he smiled indulgently at her words.
"I'm sure you will change your mind in due course. Now tell me, what's this preposterous tale of you masquerading as a servant?"
Not wanting to lie outright to her father, Bella stayed as close to the truth as possible, regaling him with her adventures and making light of them where possible.
"But what of Carlisle's son, the marquis, and the other members of the household? Did you never cross their paths?" her father asked.
Bella's heart lodged in her throat. Disguising her distress behind a feigned bout of coughing, she then sipped at the water Mrs Waters rushed to her hand. It confirmed she, and no doubt as many of the household staff as could squeeze behind the door, were listening in to their conversation.
"I encountered them in my role as a servant," Bella said, hoping her father would let the matter drop.
"And you conversed? They heard you speak?"
"Of course." She shrugged then recalled that it was considered ill-mannered for a young lady to gesture in such a way, a habit she had developed and would have to break.
"Idiot!"
Bella startled at her father's exclamation.
"Not you." He grimaced. "I just didn't expect Carlisle's boy would turn out to be a dunderhead."
"Lord Masen isn't a dunderhead." Bella was hesitant to repeat the word as she was uncertain as to its degree of offensiveness.
"Rubbish! Your speech, your demeanour, your gracious manner. Five seconds in your presence and anyone with a modicum of intelligence should have recognised you as a lady of exceptional breeding and education."
Bella was touched by his defence but couldn't help smiling. "People see what they expect to see," she said.
Her father harrumphed. "If your hair colour wasn't currently out of fashion—ridiculous, if you ask me. Queen Elizabeth must be rolling in her grave—then anyone with a lick of sense would have recognised your heritage."
"My heritage?"
"You are the spitting image of your mother, and she was a princess for Heaven's sake. How anyone could mistake her daughter for a servant for a moment, let alone weeks on end, is beyond me!"
Time slowed.
Bella felt her jaw drop open, even as she noted dust motes dancing on a ray of afternoon sunshine that splashed across her father's chest.
"My mother was a what?"
"A princess, or she would have been if the French royal family hadn't been killed by the revolutionists."
"Why was I never told?" Bella words were more a plea of understanding than a demand. "I thought she was the daughter of a court official, that her parents were caught up in the chaos but somehow arranged for Mama to escape with some loyal servants. Didn't she live in the French countryside with distant relatives, hidden amongst peasants?"
"That's the part of the story we told you, but there was more to it."
Her father's words settled like a cold, damp cloak around Bella's shoulders.
"The French King was your grandmother's second cousin. She didn't approve of the indulgences that went on at court. Her husband, your maternal grandfather—was related to our monarchy via his cousin, Frederik the fifth of Denmark's marriage to Princess Louise, Charles the Second's youngest daughter. He was a sensible man—a baron but also an officer, like me. Unfortunately, their stance against the worst of the excesses could not protect them from the uprising of the masses. Your grandparents were killed along with many other members of the royal household, but not before they provided for your mother's escape when she was still a girl."
"And the rest of the tale? How you met Mama after you helped Uncle Carlisle when he was injured?"
"All true. After we'd made it safely back to England, your mother and I were married and retired to live a quiet life in the country, shunning society and the social whirl on the pretext of preference."
"When, in actual fact, you were concerned for her safety," Bella said, and he nodded. "What about after the Bourbon Monarchy was restored? Did Mama not want to return to France and her position in the royal household?"
"Not in the least. She had seen too much and had no desire to reestablish connections with her royal relatives. We were content with our lot and hoping to grow our little family."
"Why didn't you tell me the truth when I was old enough to understand?"
This time Bella's words were a demand, the consequences of her ignorance settling like a stone in her belly.
"It didn't seem relevant." Her father shrugged, and she resisted the urge to succumb to a fit of hysterics. "The danger is past, but otherwise, what difference would it have made?"
"What difference? Papa, my place in society must surely be influenced by a heritage of which I had no knowledge. I thought I was ranked at the very lower end of the ton, but if I understand correctly, you are telling me . . ."
"You rank right up there with the royal family." He chuckled.
"Does Uncle Carlisle know?"
Her father shook his head. "He suspected your mother was a member of the French nobility but was unaware how highly placed. In hindsight, I think it's a pity she didn't let him know they were related, second or third cousins, I believe. She wanted a fresh start without all the attention and heightened expectations being a member of royalty would bring."
"It's been such a long time. Surely Mama's heritage is irrelevant to my standing in society." Bella attempted to convince herself she hadn't just made a colossal mistake because she had been kept in the dark . . . again.
"Oh no, it's very relevant," her father said, dashing her faint hope. "I didn't pursue your royal connections earlier, as I had no desire to expose you to the court of Goerge IV. Your mother and I wanted you to grow up in the relative freedom of the countryside without undue pressure. But now that you are about to embark on your entrée into society, the secrecy will no longer be possible. The news will cause quite a stir, but I'm sure you will be welcomed with open arms by your royal relatives."
Bella stared blankly.
"When were you going to tell me any of this?"
"I thought I would explain it all a little closer to the time you were due to leave for London, so you wouldn't worry. If Hunter hadn't shown up, it would have all been out in the open by now."
"Do you think he knew? Was that why he wanted to marry me? Though what difference does it make if I am related to royalty? The connection sounds tenuous, at best, and my dowry is not substantial."
"About that."
Her father shifted in his seat, and Bella found herself hoping his hesitation was because he was tired and needed to rest, not that he had any more shocking news to disclose.
"Papa?"
"I'm not sure if that scoundrel got wind of your true identity, but he knew about the pearls, so it's a possibility."
"Mama's pearls are valuable, aren't they?"
"Your pearls now, and yes, incredibly valuable. They were a gift from the Emperor of Prussia to one of your great-great-grandmothers, passed down from mother to daughter. They're not a part of the Swan estate, and I didn't want Hunter getting his hands on them. The rest of your mother's jewels were well hidden. Mr Waters let Hunter think he was getting the best of what the estate had to offer—which he did, I suppose—when in actual fact, the real treasure was in a chest hiding beneath a sack of potatoes in the vegetable cellar."
"Mama's jewels?"
As far as Bella had known, her mother didn't have any jewels other than her pearls, a lovely cameo locket her father gave her for their anniversary one year, and a handful of trinkets.
"She didn't wear them as they would have advertised who she was. But we kept them for your inheritance since the entail, blasted thing, doesn't allow me to leave you my estate." He father scowled. "But I digress. My plan was to keep the jewels your mother smuggled out of France a secret. They were given to her by your grandparents to secure her safety.
"I know it's not the way things are done, but I didn't want it known when you début that you are a very wealthy young woman. You would have every gold-digging ne'er-do-well and down-on-his-luck noble after your hand. That's why I only arranged for you to have a relatively modest dowry. It's not that I couldn't afford more but . . ."
"But what, Papa?"
"What I'm about to say would be considered inappropriate by most members of society, but I want you to have what your mother and I did. Love."
"Love," Bella whispered, his words confirming what she had always known. "You and Mama were in love."
"Very much so. It is no longer considered quite so unpopular to feel great affection for one's spouse. But it's still not something one would normally admit to—not in our sphere. That's another reason we chose to withdraw to the countryside away from the discerning eye of the ton."
"And you wanted the same for me, that I should marry for love and not because my dowry could save some penniless lord's estate."
Her father nodded, the tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes speaking volumes for his sincerity. He had meant well, and Bella would forgive him, of course. But by keeping the truth from her, he had destroyed her chance of having the very love he spoke of.
~I~
Well, that was quite the series of revelations. How did you like Bella's heritage? Talk about convoluted! The various royal houses were constantly intermarrying to improve ties and increase their standings. If only she had known before rotten old Hunter arrived, I have a feeling she might have trusted Edward with the truth. :(
See you soon,
xx Elise
