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

Chapter 19

A good morning couldn't prove a good day and it was absolutely true. Isabella left the secret chamber alone. The sky was bright and the rose scent in the garden was heavenly but her heart was in a deep dark pit. How foolish she was! Foolish! How could she mix up the fictional world with reality?

With her swollen red watery eyes, Isabella was stopped by Mr Lockwood. He asked in concern, "Miss Isabella, what's the matter? You look abhorred. Are you feeling alright?"

Isabella looked at Anderson and she could no longer withhold the immense emotions in her heart. She wept before him, in the middle of the garden, and to the people who heard it, they might be mistaken that it was the end of the world.

Anderson was surprised at her emotional explosion and soothed her shoulder, gently humming, "There, there, let it all out and we can talk about it."

"Oh, Anderson! I am a terrible person! The most foolish creature on the earth!" Her steamy hot tears rolled generously drops after drops down her face.

"Then I'll replace your position to be the most foolish creature in the world if I believe what you say about yourself." Mr Lockwood smiled and teased at her dramatic outpour.

"You don't understand anything at all! I believed Lord Horton was a vampire who murdered his wife. I caught him doing something darkly mysterious in the secret chamber and I confronted him with my surmise. Apparently, I was reading too many novels and have been fantasising too much. How could I accuse Lord Horton of such a terrible immoral crime against his wife? It was as if re-cutting his scarred wound and sprinkling salts on it!"

"That is too visual."

"Please, stop teasing me, Anderson! Is that true? Is it just my fantasy?"

"Well," Mr Lockwood directed Isabella to sit by the pavilion because it was quite a long story and, with a more serious manner, he began Horton's life journey,

"Lord Horton was not that mysterious and cold in the past, at least, before his wife's death. You see, Isabella, Horton was one of the most capable students of my father in the law school. He was two years my senior and I saw him as my brother. Unlike his father who works as a foreign diplomat, Christopher chose law and the old Horton always brought the young Horton along with him to visit his old colleague, Sir Henry, believing that his refined old colleague might possess the ability to convince his only son to take his legacy to be an excellent foreign diplomat over a lawyer. However, his scheme failed but it made another turn successful in finding his son a loving wife. During many visits to Sir Henry's establishment, Christopher grew more and more attached with his daughter, Lady Sarah. They got married soon after she turned eighteen and Christopher twenty-one. They loved each other and I believed the statement because I saw how they looked at each other. It was true love. Unfortunately, they miscarried their first child and so did their second and third child. Lady Sarah was devastated and Chirstopher, who simply wanted health for his wife, decided to give up. He didn't care about the heir and inheritance. He just wanted to be with Lady Sarah and wanted her to be happy. However, by the fifth year of their marriage, Lady Sarah had their fourth baby. Despite the doctor's advice, she wanted to keep it. Horton was both excited and afraid. At that time, he received a major case from the court and he'd spent days and nights with my father on it. He didn't have much time for neither his rest nor his wife. One night, as he was preparing for the second trial of the case with my father, he received an urgent message from home. Lady Sarah had passed away with her baby in the sixth month of the carriage."

"But why would that happen? Both the baby and the mother had been healthy and safe for six months! Why would it happen all of a sudden?" Isabella asked.

"It was told by the servants and the doctor later that Lady Sarah's carriage was not easy. She had horrible nausea every day and the baby's heartbeat was too weak. She ordered them not to mention a word before Horton so that he could have his time undisturbed in his works. That day, she was walking in the garden and fell unconscious and she never woke up. Christopher quitted his position at the court afterwards and he became quieter and smiled less and he isolated himself from the rest of the world since then."

Now to think of it, Isabella no longer believed that Lord Horton was worshipping dark forces in the secret chamber, but rather he was setting up a memorial ceremony in mourning his wife!

"Oh, my word! I'm a terrible person!" Isabella cried out bitterly, "How could I make up these horrible stories in my head! And, how could I call him a wife murderer!"

"You called him that?"

Isabella nodded silently with her complexion twisted in guilt.

Anderson turned his way a step back in thoughts and asked carefully, "Was your imagination encouraged by the murder case we talked about at the dinner table?"

Isabella nodded silently again.

"No wonder you and Margaret asked me so many times! I know I am not obliged to tell but we shall leave whatever is said at this moment only. Miss Smith's death was caused by -"

"Poison, as you said."

"Yes," Anderson teased her uneasy interruption, "but she was murdered by the poison, mouse powder, added into her medicine prescription by her brother who lusted after her small property in London street. But her brother accused their eldest sister for encouraging and participating in the crime as well. However, the eldest sister claimed herself innocent. So, we are now gathering evidence to see which was the truth. As for Lord Horton, he was only connected with the case by air."

Isabella cried desperately from her heart and she didn't care about Anderson's presence. She felt ashamed and she found herself an unbelievable awful person to build her own fantasy (and who actually enjoyed the process) on Lord Horton's pain and was so stupid that she couldn't separate fiction from reality! Tears rolled down her face, dramatically, abundantly, powerfully, mimicking the might of a natural waterfall, and such a breathtaking scene was beyond Anderson's intellect to handle. Therefore, he took a gallantry step before Isabella and brought her into his arms. He soothed her head and let her salty tears leave marks on his navy velvet trimmed tailcoat and his perfectly ironed white jabot shirt.

"There there," he said calmly and softly, "Stop judging yourself. You simply have too much wit and humour for Christopher to process. You are too innocent and endearing."

"Stop justifying my stupidity. I know it's my fault. I will never let myself be this foolish again," her voice muffled by her tears and the fabric against her lips.

Not too far from the pavilion, behind the sea of violet hyacinths, stood Margare who could see the tearful Isabella and the heroic Anderson. She felt better by late afternoon and wanted to have a refreshing walk in the garden. Perceiving the image before her, she felt delighted because she could see the love for Isabella in Anderson's eyes. She wondered whether her eyes had the same glint when she looked at her.

She didn't know whether the comfort in her heart was love or whether she was confused or she was determined to be kissed by a lady's lips. She had too many thoughts in her mind but the care she received in the morning from Isabella was as tender and soft as the breeze in the garden, the same breeze that was touching her skin. She shivered and she blushed. She didn't know. Was it love of a keen friendship or the kind of love between a man and a woman? She felt the weight of the entire world was upon her and she was a million miles away from the centre of the world and was losing her grip. When her world turned black and she fell into the sea of hyacinths, she heard Isabella's voice calling her. She tried with all her might to open her eyes to see her, to find her, but she was lost in darkness.

***

"Isabella!"

Margaret screamed aloud when she finally woke up from her unconsciousness.

"Margaret! You scared me! What important urgent thing must you do in a windy garden right after your fever just got a bit better! You scared me, my dear Margaret!"

"Isabella," she called weakly, "please promise me, you won't find me disgusting."

"What are you talking about, my dear Margaret? How can you possibly be disgusting?" Isabella held her hands firmly and kissed her forehead.

"I don't know. I don't know myself. I....think I am lost in....the sea," she said laboriously, syllable by syllable, and fell back into a deep slumber.

It was fortunate that Isabella and Anderson were at the pavilion and could hear a strange sound and saw Margaret's fainted by the bushes. Otherwise, she couldn't think what a dreadful case it could cause to her health. Anderson was standing by Margaret's bed next to Isabella and he felt a wrench in his heart. The last time he saw her sister suffered painfully with a lifeless countenance was when they lost their mother.