Isabella's Choice (The Choice Series, Book 1)

Chapter 14

The night after dinner was spent leisurely in the drawing room where Margaret and Isabella had a peaceful time in reading and sharing their views of Miss Northcliff's latest work. The gentlemen, on the other hand, were kept by the card table, with an intention on the chat more than the play. Although no one had gained any attention about the scene, Lord Horton occasionally cast his gaze over Isabella from whom he found a shadow of familiarity. He started to regret being too cold and unfriendly on their first day of arrival, however, he knew not how to open his heart to the world once again and he was determined to believe that he was unworthy of any kind of forgiveness.

When everything was settled and the Estate was put into rest for the day, Isabella couldn't go to sleep. Her mind was clouded by many ideas and theories, though fueled by pure imagination, about Lord Horton and his bloody crimes.

Couldn't sleep, Isabella went for Margaret's companionship after learning that she was still awake from the light revealed through her room's door gap.

"Dear Margaret, I can hardly fall asleep! My entire mind was dedicated to asking questions and forming ideas for Lord Horton's evil intentions!" Isabella walked hastily and sat on Margaret's bedding.

The room remained warm and comfortable by the fireplace which formed an acute contrast with the shrill coldness outside the Estate. Leaves were shivering violently with the branches and noises like ghostly howls were heard, passing by rounds and rounds in the night woodland, within the territory of the property.

"You will fall asleep eventually," Margaret took her hairbrush and walked leisurely to Isabella, sitting behind her, she started softly, "Izzie, you can't just give your hair a tight braid and expect to have an easy slumber. Do you sleep with your hair in this shape as a habit?"

"Yes, mama says it gives your hair more natural curls. However, I do it because I don't bother to put it down." Isabella giggled.

Margaret gave a tiring sigh and slowly untied her hair. Her fingers ran through her hair tenderly like touching delicate muslin. Carelessly, her fingers lightly touched her back and with the thin layer of nightgown fabric Margaret could easily assume what texture her skin was like. Isabella might have felt a friendly soothing tingle, however, Margaret blushed at both her excitement and fear to move a step further. Then, she switched to her brush, from the top of her head to the end of her hair tip, Margaret brushed through it patiently and carefully, with a mixed feeling that she was styling her doll's hair and her own when she was still a little girl pampered by her late mama.

"Izzie, what ideas have you formed against Lord Horton? I am very much curious, given the fact that they are so powerful to put you away from sleep." Margaret laughed lightly.

"Well, like what you told me before, about the violent cases he did against Lady Horton, I believe Miss Smith must have witnessed the evil scheme done to her mistress that she fell to be Lord Horton's prey. However, Margaret, you have to excuse my surmise here, that your father may protect Horton because of their affectionate relationship and the real criminal of the murder case can never be revealed to the public. Yet, I feel terrible to have formed these ideas! I understand that Earl Lockwood is a righteous judge and Lord Horton is a fair widower, nevertheless, I can hardly suppress these ideas from forming in my mind!"

"I think your words are as interesting as your voice," Margaret commented with a manner confused Isabella which she didn't know whether it was a true compliment or simply her careless joke.

"So, my dear Margaret, you won't find my behaviour foolish to form such ill ideas about your father and your father's late pupil?" Isabella asked nervously and turned to face Margaret.

Isabella's sudden gesture startled Margaret and she gasped and moved her hands immediately away from her hair. She felt something was fluttering in her heart. She didn't understand what that fluttering meant but she ignored the urge it gave her to do something she was confused about.