Page 9 of Revisit the Past (Society of Swans #3)
T he promise of summer enveloped Isabel in welcoming warmth and vibrant color as she descended from the coach. Lush leaves on trees and hedges burst with the jolly green that heralded blooms in every shade, swaying in the breeze. Hyde Park in the quiet morning was sublime. Isabel had never felt so…right.
“What a perfect day for Lord Murfield to have invited us to promenade,” said Aunt Matilda as she linked arms with Isabel and opened a parasol over them both. “What do you think, Isabel? Has the earl written to Mother Nature herself and requested this beautiful afternoon sky and these sweet songbirds for us?”
Thinking quickly, Isabel turned to look over her shoulder and waved at Papa to hurry along, grateful for the protection her bonnet afforded her. They passed under the iron archway that led into the bustling park.
“I am afraid that has more to do with luck, dear aunt, though I am sure if Lord Murfield could have contrived it by some means, he would have.”
“He always seemed to me to be such a thoughtful gentleman,” Aunt Matilda mused.
Isabel only nodded in reply, quickly engaging Papa in lighthearted conversation when he came upon her other side and looped her free arm around his. They walked slowly down one of many gravel paths that carved elegantly through Hyde Park’s expansive lawns, nodding at familiar faces. Isabel’s heart hummed. Caleb was here, waiting for her.
They were so close, Isabel could nearly taste it, and it tasted very much like her memory of Caleb’s lips…sweet and full of adoration, with an intriguing pinch of salt that had left her longing for more.
Around the next corner, partially obscured by tall, thin hedges, their group nearly ran into the very gentleman. Isabel spied his shining, red hair first and pulled Papa and Aunt Matilda to a hasty stop before a collision, dust and loose rocks kicking up. Her eyes widened as he turned with the most endearingly perplexed expression. It melted into recognition when his gaze found hers, forsaking all others.
“You are here,” said Caleb quietly, almost in awe, before remembering his other guests. “You are all here! Lady Ainsworth, Mr. Abbott, Miss Abbott. I am so thrilled you could join me, though I am sure we will miss the younger Mr. Abbott.”
Lord Wrighthall appeared from behind the earl and gave him a light bump with his elbow. “We understand completely, of course. We would never deny a young man the opportunity to cheer alongside his friends during a bout of boxing.”
Papa chuckled and nodded, though his polite smile did not reach his eyes. “Alas, such entertainments are too exciting to capture my interest now. I find that a promenade out of doors is just the thing these days.”
Almost as if they had orchestrated their movements, Caleb and the baron stepped forward at the same time, the former before Isabel and the latter before Aunt Matilda. The gentlemen offered their arms and the ladies accepted.
“Lady Ainsworth, did I not happen to see you entering Somerset House last week just as I was leaving? Have you been to Somerset House recently, Mr. Abbott? I daresay you must visit before the Season’s end and witness the latest wonders of art on display for yourself!”
Lord Wrighthall, now in possession of Aunt Matilda’s parasol, began the flow of inquiries and chatter with an expert level of gentlemanly civility, turning his head back and forth between his companions, keeping them equally distracted from the pair following slowly behind them.
“Good afternoon, Isabel. I trust you have been well since Vauxhall?”
Caleb began quietly, slowly, relaxed, as if time had never been of any concern and could never affect them. Despite the natural beauty around them as far as the eye could see, the earl seemed content to ignore it all. His gaze never left Isabel’s face, his feet seeming to carry him forward of their own accord.
Isabel tightened her grip on his arm just a touch in an attempt to keep her own feet on the earth. His proximity did not help matters, however. Nor did the sweet longing in his eyes every time she glanced up at him. Nor did her heart’s inability to settle on a rhythm, whether swift and dizzying or a deep thundering.
“I have been very well, indeed. And you, Caleb?”
No one had ever had the power to muddle her mind like this before—or since. When they had first met and these feelings had begun to stir inside Isabel, they’d frightened her. They’d been foreign and intangible, resistant to her normal modes of inward investigation…until, one day, without warning or reason, nothing had made more sense than the rightness of her and him together.
This time, she was not frightened.
The earl stopped, forcing Isabel to do the same. Luckily, no one had been walking too closely behind them. In fact, Isabel hardly noticed any of the other ladies and gentlemen—couples, friends, families all seemingly enjoying this fine, late spring day without a care in the world.
“I have been far, far better these past several weeks with you than in…I almost do not wish to admit,” Caleb finally answered with a small smile.
“I feel exactly the same,” said Isabel in a whisper she knew only he would hear.
A light cough sounded from somewhere behind them. They started and whirled around to find another young couple, most likely a few years older than them and married, watching from a few paces away with knowing smiles.
“Pardon us,” said the unfamiliar man lightly, gesturing at the walkway that Isabel and Caleb had accidentally claimed as their own.
Sputtering apologies and glowing red, they scurried off to the edge of the path. The lady, dressed in a becoming amethyst that would have been considered too mature for an unwed girl, made sure to catch Isabel’s eye as they passed.
“Many blessings upon you dears,” she said under her breath before looking up at the man who was no doubt her husband with a contentment in her expression that Isabel knew well. Soon they turned down a fork that led toward one of the park exits.
Caleb and Isabel caught their breath and resumed their walk with lengthened strides, Isabel’s skirts fluttering about her ankles, to decrease the distance between them and the rest of their group. Alarm whispered in the back of her mind when she realized that Papa had been subtly eyeing them over his shoulder while chatting with Aunt Matilda and Lord Wrighthall, though for how long, she could not guess.
“May I ask you something?” Isabel began, eager to ignore her father’s apparent curiosity about her conversation with the earl.
“Anything. Always.”
“About what you told me at Vauxhall? I do not wish to bring up any—”
“Anything. Always.”
Caleb’s emphatic statement sent Isabel’s heart into the most splendid flutter she had ever felt, even during their first courtship. Why did this seem so different than before? So much more…secure?
“Did you truly think I would have been happier without you, hardships and all?”
There was no accusation or anger in Isabel’s tone. Despite her best intentions and staunchest objections, she had given up her resentment for the most part some time ago. With this new information connecting the missing links that had plagued Isabel’s mind these past four years, any last vestiges of bitterness slipped away on the breeze.
“I know now that is not the case,” Caleb replied with a heavy sigh. “Especially after witnessing how tenderly and willingly you cared for Miss Clara that night. But, of course, I should have known the entire time and allowed myself to rely upon you instead of thinking I could avoid dimming your light with my grief by hiding amongst the country’s relics.
“By the time enough of my senses had returned, too long had passed for me to feel that I had any hope of regaining your trust, at least without revealing the nature of my brother’s death. I’d also heard from Wrighthall of your plan to secure a match of material comfort instead of companionship. I was sure I would be hearing further news of your nuptials with every passing day.”
Isabel raised a brow and tilted her head to obtain a better view of the gentleman. “Did you ask your friend to spy on me?”
The tips of Caleb’s ears reddened, matching his hair. “Not to spy, no. Merely to keep an eye turned toward you, lest you fall into the hands of some unscrupulous fellow.”
“And what would you have done, had I seemed in danger of such a fate?”
“I am glad it does not seem we shall have to find out,” he answered quietly. A tinge of hope laced through his low voice.
As much as Isabel’s heart longed to pursue that thought to its long-awaited, inevitable conclusion, her mind would not release a crucial detail of Caleb’s earlier words.
“If I may ask another question, why did you wish to hide your brother’s illness?”
The earl’s eyes flew up to the others walking ahead of them, only a few feet now from the Serpentine and the busy bridge that allowed park visitors safe passage over it. He swallowed.
“It was not my wish, but Daniel’s. In some strange way, I thought I was honoring him by observing it to the strictest degree possible. Or perhaps that was merely another excuse. My brother took great pride in his spirit and sense of adventure, you see.”
A memory from her first Season flashed through Isabel’s mind. Eyes on the path before them, she nodded somberly.
“I recall you telling me about his perilous carriage chase to hunt some ruffian who had snatched a loaf of bread straight from the hands of a poor villager. That must have been the night of the Georges’ ball, when the elderly gentleman standing beside you lost several of his false teeth on a candied plum.”
Caleb laughed quietly, a little lightness returning to his countenance. “I certainly recall that . And the numerous ladies who fainted from the sight of it. But it heartens me to know that you remember such things about my brother. He would have been very pleased, no doubt.
“The first thing he said to me upon my arrival, after apologizing and explaining, was that I must never tell anyone the true cause of his demise. He said he’d been planning to write to me soon and had even concocted a story of a harrowing accident for me to share when the time came, though he did give me permission to confide in Wrighthall. No matter how I tried to convince him otherwise, my poor brother was terrified that the world would reduce the vibrancy of his life to his sickly final moments.”
Caleb paused, lifting a hand to rub his rigid jawline. Isabel nodded her understanding.
“I truly am glad you did not endure it all entirely alone. And that you were able to spend that precious time with your beloved brother.”
Caleb pursed his lips and let out a slow exhale.
“In fact, Daniel may very well have lost his chance to tell me himself had his estate manager not finally convinced him after months that I needed to be prepared for what lay ahead and the role I would play in it. I only happened to return home as Daniel was finally finding the words, as he’d said.
“But we became so overwhelmed with the increasing needs of his declining state and the arrangements to be made…and it felt a little wrong, to speak of falling in love and beginning a new life under such circumstances. I never told him why I’d returned, nor did he ask. We were simply glad to be brought together before the end, whatever the reason.”
“My goodness,” was all Isabel could muster for several long moments. “That must have been a terrible burden to bear—not only your loss, but all the responsibilities you never expected to gain.”
They stepped from the gravel path onto the smooth surface of the bridge. Papa, Aunt Matilda, and Lord Wrighthall tarried in the middle, peering out over the stonework wall at the crystalline water below.
“In my head and in my heart, I still think of him as the true Lord Murfield,” Caleb confessed. He frowned, brows knit low over his long nose. “I fear he would have been disgusted by and ashamed of his successor.”
Isabel’s head turned sharply. She stared at the gentleman’s profile, strong in the golden sunlight and sweet in the cool shadows. A perfect balance. But even perfection must bow in the face of life’s tragedies.
“Now that is truly the most foolish thing I have ever heard from you.”
Caleb halted once more. Luckily this time, they had veered naturally closer to the bridge wall, where they could remain out of the way of other passersby.
“P-Pardon?”
“I did not have the privilege of knowing your Daniel in this life, but if he loved you as much as you love him, I can imagine no world in which he would not agree with me. Truly think of who your brother was. Do you still believe that he would be anything less than immensely proud of you?”
Her heart shot into her throat at the sight of Caleb’s misty eyes. In her peripheral vision, Isabel noticed their party continuing toward the other end of the bridge. Without thinking, she slid her hand from its comfortable position on his arm down to his wrist.
“I thought I could never imagine a world without my brother breathing and running and laughing in it,” he whispered. “And now here I am, living it. How can you be so certain that he is not looking down on me and weeping for the failure I am?”
“Caleb.”
His name escaped her lips, almost as a plea. Emotion welled inside Isabel once more. She allowed her fingers to slip a little lower and intertwine loosely with his.
“You could not be any further from a failure, Caleb, I promise you. I know you have your regrets and mistakes, but they do not add up to the sum of a failure. If you cannot accept such words on your brother’s behalf, accept them on mine.
“I certainly do not blame you for how your grief manifested now that I understand your circumstances. I know what it is to lose someone long before you are ready, on what should be the happiest occasion of one’s life, like an engagement, or the birth of a child.”
“Your mama. I remember how fondly you always spoke of her.”
“I have had more time, and more help, to move me along in the world when I could not fathom growing up in this complex, terrifying place without my mother. Though I was just a girl, I recall all manner of strange thoughts and behaviors during our mourning period that my governess eventually convinced me to give up. Besides, in the end…”
“In the end?” Caleb’s thumb brushed over the light, silk fabric of her gloves.
“You returned.” Isabel sighed, strangely content despite this melancholy air. “You returned, and everything was made right.”
The gentleman’s gaze dropped to Isabel’s mouth. “You truly believe so?”
“I know so. I have all the evidence here.”
She tightened her hand around his, keeping their infraction hidden between their bodies and the bridge wall. It was not without its risks, considering anyone down below lounging on the lawn or paddling their boat along the river’s undemanding current might catch a glimpse at the right angle. Isabel could not care any less.
“Do you remember the first time we walked across this bridge?”
“I could never forget, even if I tried,” Caleb answered under his breath. The heaviness that had weighed down his handsome features softened and smoothed. “Just down there, we met for the very first time at a picnic. Never had I seen such mesmerizing, green eyes—nor have I since.”
“Never had I seen such blinding-red hair.” Isabel giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand.
Every feeling of that first moment swept through her as if it were happening all over again.
The strange tingling when their gazes had met over their cups of tea, the way her ears had perked up every time she’d heard him say anything of interest, the bubbles under the surface of her skin when their knuckles had brushed as they’d reached for the same pastry.
It rushed back to Isabel in exquisite clarity and threatened to send her floating into the sky, just as she had nearly done that day.
“And up here,” continued Caleb as he led them toward the top of the bridge, “in an effort to keep the dwindling conversation flowing and prevent the party from breaking up, Wrighthall asked everyone to share their favorite philosophers.”
“Quite a few of the others thought it a dreadfully dull question not deserving of serious consideration. But we both answered at the very same time—”
“Wordsworth,” they said in unison.
Isabel’s smile grew wider to match Caleb’s grin. “We spent the rest of the walk marveling at our shared fascination with both his unique, rustic artistry as a poet and his philosophy of the common human experiences we all share, regardless of birth.”
“A swan.”
Every muscle in Isabel froze. “What did you say?”
Caleb narrowed his eyes at her and pointed over the edge of the bridge. “Look, a swan on the water. Forgive me. I thought you liked them.”
Isabel swallowed. “They are beautiful creatures, yes, with an air of mystery about them…”
A frown soon appeared below the furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “Does something trouble you? About…swans?”
Stomach twisting, Isabel threw a glance over her shoulder to be sure the others, now at the opposite foot of the bridge, were well enough out of earshot. The words hummed on the tip of her tongue.
She had wanted to share it with him for so long. Now seemed as good a time as any, with both of them standing on this familiar precipice once more.
But what would her former suitor—possibly current suitor—make of these supposed strings that had pulled them together this Season in the form of a cleverly written anonymous letter? It had not been a success initially for Felicity last autumn, whose revelation of Lady Swan’s letter had caused a nearly irreparable rift between her and her new husband.
“Isabel, you may tell me anything, remember? You will never have any judgment from me.”
The tenderness in his voice and eyes sent a wonderful shiver down her spine. She felt the truth of his words somewhere deep in her soul, in the same place that she hoped her words had reached him earlier. If he could be truthful with her, then she owed him the same.
“I suppose, in all your adventures, you have never encountered anyone called Lady Swan, have you?”
“Lady Swan?” Caleb paused, one brow furrowing while the other arched. “Not exactly. A Lady Swanley sounds familiar. I might have crossed paths with a Mr. Swanford once or twice, but there was no Mrs. Swanford that I knew of.”
“You would not know if any of them happens to be a talented writer…or matchmaker?”
“Matchmaker, you say?”
The concern in his expression swiftly transformed into intrigue. One brow arched so high, it almost disappeared under his fringe, his mouth pulling to one side. Isabel could not help chuckling at that darling look. She prayed that from now on, she might have occasion to see it daily.
“I suppose I shall start from the beginning.”
“That is usually the most sensible place to start, yes.”
Isabel shot him a teasing glare that coincided well with the firm step down from bridge to earth. “Continue like that and I think I might keep the secret to myself, after all.”
“You wound me!” Caleb laughed and clutched his chest in exaggerated pain.
The sound was brighter and warmer and more essential to Isabel’s life than the sun above. Soon, her laugh, not quite as bold, joined his as she explained the mystery of Lady Swan, starting with Lydia’s letter last Season.
“And the next letter arrived at the start of this Season…” She trailed off, a hint of nerves returning.
“Fascinating!” cried the earl.
Isabel could almost see the thoughts spinning through his mind in his blazing eyes. So, too, she assumed, could a handful of nearby strollers and picnickers, who looked askance at the young couple before quickly turning their attention away from the frivolity.
She regretted not lengthening her summary by just a few moments when she saw the trio before them disappear into a tunnel of trees that covered a portion of the walkway. Caleb’s enthusiasm would have been better received in that relative privacy.
“Was it you who received the next letter?” he asked, the words spilling over themselves.
It was Isabel’s turn to look askance at Caleb. “Yes. That does not disturb you at all?”
He did not answer right away, not until they had entered the tunnel and the rest of their group had exited ahead. He paused, lingering in the deepest shadows in the middle.
Speckles of light dancing on his hair and skin, he maneuvered Isabel to stand before him and grasped her arms above the elbows, his hot palms on her bare skin.
“Why should it disturb me when it seems clearer than ever that Lady Swan, whoever she really is, is correct?”
Every muscle in Isabel froze, this time in the most exquisite way.
She was weightless, timeless. Everything was still but for the steady beating of her heart as it fell into time with the pulse in Caleb’s hands—irrefutable, irrevocable proof of his feelings for her.
“I have felt the pull toward you since the moment I left your side, like the tides must always reach for the moon, no matter how far she is. If it is the ocean’s fate to follow the moon’s gravity, how could I have thought I would be able to return to London, to be in the same rooms as you, and remain unaltered?
“You have changed me, Isabel, in all the best ways. You have done more good in the way of healing my heart than I have any right to claim, but I am eternally grateful for it all the same. I never could stop loving you.”
“Caleb,” Isabel whispered with what little breath remained in her body. Her hands rose of their own accord and settled upon his broad chest, bringing herself a little deeper into his arms.
“I thought I had been successful in my efforts to stop loving you. When Lady Swan’s letter arrived, it seemed the most absurd, unimaginable thing to me. But if she is the expert…I suppose it cannot be such a terrible idea.”
“I have certainly had worse.” The gentleman’s quiet sigh of contentment was warm and delicate against Isabel’s skin.
Her eyes eased closed, almost as if she were falling asleep.
Was that not precisely what falling in love was like—closing one’s eyes in bed to the comfortable and ordinary, and opening them in dreams to a world of fantastical color and sublime happiness?
But this was not a dream.
Caleb’s lips on hers, smooth, gentle, urgent, had never felt more real. She inhaled his orange and sandalwood scent, absorbed the sensation of every nuanced movement of his mouth, his hands still gripping her arms as if he clung to life itself.
None of this could have been replicated in any form of imagination.
Yet, in much the same way as dreams, the moment lasted an eternity and was over in a flash. Isabel blinked up at Caleb and saw her heart mirrored in his serene expression. Somehow, this kiss had been even better than their first. It had nearly written over that swift peck, stolen in the corner of a dimly lit foyer after a long night of dancing, in her memory.
“Ah, here they are! I told you they had not fallen far behind.”
Isabel and Caleb nearly threw each other to opposite walls of the tree tunnel in their haste to create the illusion of propriety. Aunt Matilda, shaded by her parasol, appeared at the other end.
“Have we fallen behind? Goodness, it seems we spent more time enjoying this cool shade than we realized, my lord,” Isabel lied with a strained chuckle.
“It does seem rather tempting, understandably,” said Aunt Matilda.
The dowager countess’s calm smile did not exactly dispel the panic currently flooding her niece. It was the glint in Aunt Matilda’s eyes that told Isabel she would later be pressed to give some explanation.
Still, she offered a silent prayer of immense gratitude that Aunt Matilda had been the one to nearly catch them—and in such a public place, too! Even in the late morning, when most of the ton still slept away the previous night’s entertainment, the risk had been significant. Surely, almost anyone else would have leapt at the chance to do their duty and bring shame and ruination to Isabel and everyone who had the misfortune of being associated with her.
“I am afraid that would be the fault of Lord Murfield,” added Lord Wrighthall from somewhere behind Aunt Matilda, mostly blocked from view by her parasol. “My friend can be a dreadfully slow walker for a fellow with such respectable legs. I admire Miss Abbott’s patience in indulging him.”
Returning themselves to normalcy as quickly as possible, Caleb and Isabel linked arms again and hurried to join Aunt Matilda at the tunnel exit. Isabel fought to keep from scrunching her face against the swell of sunlight that burned her eyes, even with the protection of her bonnet, as they emerged. When she managed to open them fully again, she found that the others had resumed their conversation, not much farther ahead this time.
She also found Caleb, the man she had loved once and would love forever, already grinning at her. Unspoken promises shone in his stunning eyes. There was no regret. The power of the kiss that had reunited them had completely erased the shock and fear of potential discovery, as if such concerns had never existed.
Isabel could hardly begin to fathom what had possessed them to do such a thing…other than an accumulation of years of love that had had nowhere to go. It would be stayed no longer when its home was finally in sight once more.