1895: The Duchess's Soul Returns

Chapter 16 ·Isabella·

Do you think Lord Elliot discovered our secret?

　　Isabella, contentedly serving as a wallflower by the dance floor, silently questioned Consuelo. Just as Lord Elliot had predicted, Eva had indeed turned down every other gentleman who sought to invite Isabella to dance. This was already the fourth dance Isabella had spent on the sidelines—though for someone who had only scratched the surface of the waltz, it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

　　He might suspect something, Consuelo said. But he couldn't possibly guess the truth.

Do you think what he said about Marlborough was true? Isabella asked again.

Only a fool would believe such talk, Isabella. Consuelo replied coldly. If the Duke of Marlborough truly wished to get to know you privately, a banquet held at his own estate would be a far better choice. Should circumstances change, it would also allow my parents to deliver you naked, wrapped in a blanket, to the Duke of Marlborough's bed in the dead of night.

Isabella sensed Consuelo was mocking something, but she couldn't quite place it.

“Hey, Consuelo!” A girl dressed in a white lace gown, delicate and spirited like a little bird, suddenly appeared before Isabella. She gave her a light hug, her lively brown eyes sparkling with a mix of playful reproach and delight. "I saw you dancing with Lord Elliot! I didn't know you were attending this country ball! Too bad my dance card was already booked for the first five dances—I couldn’t break free to find you. Didn’t you see me on the dance floor? Why didn’t you come over? Goodness, how long has it been? Last time I saw you, you were off to Harvard—"

　　This is May Grett. While she was chattering away at Isabella, Consuelo explained to her. My former American friend, sort of a distant cousin. She's a year younger than me and only arrived in London this season. You can just call her by her first name.

“How is every American heiress your distant cousin?” Isabella asked in surprise. She quickly added an apologetic smile, “I'm so sorry, May, I didn't know you were invited by Lady Northampton too. Otherwise I would have—”

　　My grandfather had seven descendants, all married into prominent American families. Except perhaps my mother—before the Civil War, her family were once prominent slave-owning planters in the South, but they declined after the war. Mae is Aunt Grace's niece. Consuelo continued.

"Don't worry about it, Consuelo. “ May waved her hand grandly, cutting off Isabella's apology, then turned to Eva and William. ”Mr. Vanderbilt! Mrs. Vanderbilt! Oh, how lovely to see you both. Everything well..."

　　I like her. While May greeted Eva and William, Isabella said to Consuelo. She's the most ‘American’ girl I've seen in ages.

Mei is truly charming and has such a bright personality. Consuelo remarked. If she'd been by your side instead of me, she'd have applauded your scheme to get Lord Elliot to reveal the truth about Miss Louisa.

But I'm grateful it was you by my side, and no one else. Isabella said, only realizing afterward that the remark seemed rather ill-advised. Wasn't she implying she was glad it was Consuelo who had died, rather than some other American heiress?

“I understand what you mean. No need to panic,” Consuelo said. Isabella saw her flash a faint smile, and even as a ghost, the sight was breathtakingly beautiful.

“I'd like to speak with you privately.”

　　May turned to Isabella again, whispering softly. Before Isabella could respond, May slipped her arm through hers and pulled her affectionately into a corner of the ballroom, murmuring confidentially in her ear.

　　“I heard about what happened at Mrs. Peggy's dinner party.” May squeezed Isabella's hands and giggled. “That's not like you at all, Consuelo—discussing divorce, that taboo topic, at a dinner party. Those stuffy, conservative British lords would be horrified.”

　　“People change,” Isabella chuckled dryly. She certainly didn't want anyone besides Lord Elliot questioning her identity that same night. “Besides, I couldn't just stand by and let those English lords and ladies mock my... cough... my parents over divorce, could I?”

　　“So that’s why you did it,” Mel exclaimed, her expression lighting up with sudden understanding. “I thought it was because Mr. Vanderbilt had already decided to marry you off to the Duke of Marlborough, and you were trying to make His Grace dislike you.”

“Is it common knowledge that my parents want to marry me off to the Duke of Marlborough?” Isabella couldn’t help but ask.

　　"Not exactly common knowledge, but most American heiresses who've come to England know about it. After all, dealing with those narrow-minded, pretentious British noblewomen is annoying enough—no one wants to compete with their own countrywomen too. So Mrs. Vanderbilt spread the word early on that you were likely to be betrothed to the Duke of Marlborough. You see, not a single American girl danced with His Grace tonight."

Isabella peered over and indeed saw an English noblewoman she didn't recognize dancing the Grand March③ with the Duke of Marlborough—though even for Isabella, distinguishing between English aristocratic daughters and American upstarts in the crowded room wasn't difficult. The former carried herself with restrained elegance, dressed in classical, understated attire, while the latter was bolder, wearing more revealing clothing, choosing to follow the latest fashions rather than prioritizing simplicity and taste. “Then who did your parents choose for you?” Isabella turned to ask May.

“I didn't accept their choice. I want to choose my own husband.” May took a deep breath. “I know it's foolish. I might end up in a failed marriage, or waste my youth. But even if my future marriage is a mistake, I want it to be one I made myself.”

She delivered this quickly, clearly having either rehearsed this brief statement a hundred times in her mind or discussed it with more than a dozen people.

　　“That's brilliant,” Isabella nearly clapped for Mei. “I tried resisting A—I mean, my mother—but she was adamant, as if no decent man existed in this world besides the Duke of Marlborough.”

“If you don't want to marry His Grace, just find a way to make him dislike you.” “I whispered to Isabella. ”That's how I sent away the suitor Father arranged for me—I just let a hint of vulgarity slip in front of him. He backed out immediately and refused Father's proposal."

“That's a brilliant idea, and you're quite skilled at it.” Consuelo, who had been listening silently nearby, interjected.

　　“Though most British noblemen are hypocritical scoundrels beneath their respectable facades,” Mei continued, and Isabella nodded in deep agreement, "as far as I know, the Duke of Marlborough is a deeply devout believer. It's said his mother's influence played a role in that. From that perspective, he seems a decent marriage prospect. The other English lords all have their scandals, more or less. Take Lord Elliot, who danced the first dance with you—he supposedly had a mistress in London by the time he was eighteen. And Lord Lucas, who attended Lady Peggy's dinner last time, is even worse. Rumor has it he impregnated two maids at Panshanger Manor—"

　　“Where did you get all this gossip?” Isabella asked curiously.

　　“I gather you're not on the best terms with your maids,” May chuckled. “Such gossip circulates freely among servants in upper-class households—though loyal, long-serving staff would never betray their employers' secrets. The same moral code doesn't apply to seasonal help, however, and that's where the rumors originate.”

　　“And the Duke of Marlborough has no negative rumors?” Isabella’s eyes widened as she sought confirmation from May.

“None. He’s a man of enduring affection—that much is certain,” May replied. “Whether that’s a flaw in your eyes, I find hard to say—”

“Why would that be a flaw for me?” Isabella asked, puzzled.

　　“Because...” May lowered her voice further, "it's said the Duke of Marlborough spent the entire London social season holed up at Blenheim Palace, avoiding every ball solely to evade Miss Louisa, who is already engaged to Mr. Field. They were the perfect match of this season's social whirl—a handsome groom and a beautiful bride. Everyone who saw them praised them as a couple made for each other, a match made in heaven. The Duke of Marlborough likely didn't wish to witness that scene... Oh..."

May's narration halted as Isabella's expression darkened, replaced by one of understanding and sympathy.

“You've taken a fancy to His Grace,” May murmured softly. Consuelo let out a long sigh. “I'm sorry, Consuelo. I didn't know—I always assumed you had no interest in His Grace, especially since we both know Rutherford—”

“Please don't mention his name,” Isabella cut her off sharply. “You're right... May... I actually... have no interest in the Duke.”

　　“Hey, hey... it's all right, Consuelo, it's all right...” May grasped Isabella's shoulders, soothing her. “It's all right... whatever past His Grace and Miss Louisa shared, it's over now. Miss Louisa's wedding is next March. She's already gone to America to prepare for her upcoming nuptials. She couldn't possibly—”

　　“No, it matters.” Isabella murmured. “I will never—and cannot—accept a man who still loves another girl in his heart. That is far more unacceptable than him marrying me solely for my money—”

　　She recalled Lady Peggy's mention of the Duke of Marlborough's meaningful exchange of glances with Eva during the season when he secluded himself. The truth crystallized in Isabella's mind with sudden clarity. This was no rumor—it was an open secret within London's high society, one shared by at least Lady Peggy and others in the inner circle.

　　“But no one knows what the Duke of Marlborough truly feels for Miss Louisa now.” Mela stopped Isabella as she turned to leave, whispering softly, “Rumors are just rumors. Only he knows why he shut himself away during the season. Perhaps it has nothing to do with Miss Louisa at all. Perhaps it's all just a servant's baseless speculation. Consuelo—”

　　“Then I suppose the only way to find answers is to ask him directly.” Isabella's trembling voice rose with the final cheerful notes of the orchestra. Her gaze fixed on the Duke of Marlborough approaching her, she slipped away from May Grett's side.