The day of the ball arrived on currents of chilly winds. Izzy thought she'd freeze clear through. What she wouldn't give for central heating and the space heater she huddled next to every winter. Here they just wore more clothes, piled more blankets on the bed, and hoped for the best with fireplaces in each room. She wouldn't have minded Henrietta sleeping with her to keep her warm but thought the idea might be frowned on. It wouldn't be deemed proper and all. What she'd truly like was if Charles could keep her warm. Nope, that would definitely be frowned upon.
Sarah came up to her but said nothing. Izzy wasn't sure she'd ever get used to always having to be the first one to speak.
"Yes, Sarah?"
"My lady, it's time for me to dress your hair." Sarah stood next to her, hands clasped in front of her long brown day dress.
"All right." Izzy sat down in the now familiar chair, knowing her backside would be numb by the time Sarah was done. She gave the maid a grin of encouragement, hoping it conveyed her appreciation of the girl's hard work. It was the best way she could think of aside from actually saying thank you.
Izzy's mood swung like a pendulum between excitement and mind-numbing terror. Charles would be handsome, of that she had no doubt. Would he approve of how she'd look by the time Sarah was finished with her? She thought back to her daily regimen at home and could scarcely believe how long everything took here. While she would have taken a quick shower, gelled and dried her hair, dabbed on make-up, and thrown on some clean clothes, here it was vastly different.
Simply getting into the dress with all the buttons was an enormous task, which didn't even include the under things, petticoats, shoes, gloves, and outer wrap. Then there was the hair. No gel or hair dryer was there for convenience, just Sarah tugging, flipping, and fastening Izzy's locks this way and that. The dress rehearsal they'd had a few days ago just for the hairstyle was exhausting, and all Izzy had done was sit. At least they'd agreed upon the best style for Izzy for the ball, which would save a couple of hours, or days, dressing her hair this time.
The closer the time came for Charles to "pick her up" the more her insides quivered like a windsock in a hurricane. He'd warned her about the ton, the questions she was likely to be asked along with the scrutinizing stares and whispers purposely loud enough for every to hear. Sure, she'd agreed to help Charles get his uncle off his back about a wife, but just the thought of all that might happen tonight had her flustered beyond belief. It didn't calm her nerves to keep reminding herself she'd likely never see any of those people again. Her innards didn't seem to care. They still quaked. Nobody appreciates floppy innards.
Charles had devised a plan to pick her up from behind the house, just down the lane. Hopefully his uncle wouldn't notice what was going on. After that, the plan was for the driver to bring the carriage around to the front, and Charles would escort Lady Isabella inside so she could see the house for the first time. She would also meet Charles' uncle. If going to the ball made Izzy's innards quake, thinking about the plan made her nearly explode.
What if it didn't work? What if Charles' uncle saw what was going on, or even worse, discovered her before the ball? Although she had to admit, Charles and Sarah had done an amazing job these last couple of weeks keeping her hidden. In fact, they'd done their job so well she felt like a hermit. It didn't do her claustrophobia any favors to be locked inside all the time.
All of it would soon end. She'd be going home, if she could just figure out how the closet thing worked.
****
Charles paced the length of his bedchamber. Perspiration formed beneath his cravat despite the cold temperature in the room. Suddenly having doubts about his plan, he foresaw any number of possible mishaps. What if one of the servants, besides Sarah, saw Isabella standing outside? It was common knowledge that servants had their own gossip trail, happily sending scandalous news to other servants in other homes.
Often times, word of the scandal reached the ears of the homeowners, and then another gossip trail would begin. Even worse, what if his uncle saw her before the appointed time? He would never understand why Charles' escort was already at their home before Charles picked her up.
He didn't relish the idea of Isabella having to stand out in the cold, even for a brief time, before he arranged to pick her up in the carriage. An overwhelming need to hold her and keep her warm while she waited enveloped him. His heart's desire was to protect her. Charles sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. His worst fear was the ton. They could be cruel, to be sure, especially to someone new, foreign, and older than the usual new arrival. What if Isabella cracked under their collective pressure?