“Shy? She’s odd. In the same way Harriet was, and you know what that led to,” he grumbled. “And she walks around with her head in the clouds, unaware of the world around her.”
“She’s thoughtful.”
“She’s an embarrassment, just like Gillingham, just like her mother. Mark my words, Aylesford,” Grandfather growled, “that girl will ruin herself and Priscilla right along with her if you don’t sign these papers. Is that what you want?”
Papers? What papers was he talking about?
The rapid pounding of Bella’s heart echoed in her ears. She’d always known Grandfather didn’t care for her. He’d made that abundantly clear over the years, but hearing him call her odd, an embarrassment, hurt more than she would have expected. She wasn’t…odd, was she? She just liked to keep to herself. She didn’t do anything to stand out in a crowd or cause any sort of notice to herself in any way. She wasn’t an embarrassment, was she?
“Sign them!” Grandfather ordered.
Good heavens! What was he trying to get Papa to agree to? Installing her at Bedlam because of her oddness? To put her somewhere she couldn’t be an embarrassment to the family?
“Father,” Papa began, a placating tone lacing his words. “Prissa isn’t even out yet. Let’s please give Bella one more season to see if she’ll take.”
Her grandfather snorted. Loudly. “I won’t indulge your delusions, Aylesford. Doing so is a waste of time, and I have very little of that as is it.”
“She’s a pretty girl. She could find someone who wouldn’t take her so far away.”
So far away? Where was she going? Did he mean to send her somewhere across the ocean? Or to Scotland, perhaps? She’d always wanted to see the world. To stand on the same stones as art’s great masters, to paint cities and landscapes from every corner of the world, but she had a feeling her grandfather had nothing so grand in mind for her.
Even through the door, Grandfather’s sigh sounded beleaguered. “Johann will be here in a fortnight. She can have until then.”
Johann? Her cousin, Johann? Her awful, angry cousin? Bella’s heart lodged in her throat. Surely she’d misheard him. What could Johann von Guttstadt possibly have to do with any of this?
“A fortnight, then.” Papa sighed as well. “If she hasn’t found a husband within the next fortnight, I’ll sign the papers.”
“I’ll hold you to your word, Aylesford.”
“I—Well, I just hate for her to go so far away from home.” Papa sounded weary as though he’d given all he had to the discussion at hand.
“Home.” Grandfather scoffed. “Why you even want her nearby is a mystery, but your coddling of her is exactly why she’s so strange. You make it sound as though I’m sending her to Australia. Prussia isn’t on the far side of the world, I assure you. Besides, Arabella can do worse than Johann, much worse. But with him, she’ll find the strong hand she’s been lacking all these years. Someone to yank her head out of the damned clouds.”
Goodness! Grandfather wanted Papa to sign a marriage contract, didn’t he? As soon as the thought entered Bella’s mind, she knew she was correct. The duke meant to send her to the horrid Prussian countryside. To marry her off to her unkind cousin. That was most definitely what he was saying, she didn’t have a doubt.
Panic seized Bella’s heart, and she slowly backed away from the study door as though it was an asp poised to strike. Her world started to spin, and a loud ringing echoed in her ears.
Johann.
Johann von Guttstadt, the Count of Hellsburg? He couldn’t be her destiny, could he? She couldn’t be expected to marry him. She just couldn’t. There had to be something that could be done because Bella couldn’t think of a fate worse than spending the rest of her days with her unbearable cousin in the middle of nowhere. She wanted to see blue Caribbean waters, the white sands of the Sahara, and every color under the sun in the Amazon.
A hand landed on Bella’s arm, and she nearly leapt from her skin. She gasped and spun on her heel to find Prissa wide-eyed, staring right at her.
“Heavens, Bella!” her sister whispered. “Are you all right?”
Bella wasn’t certain if she’d ever be right again. She shook her head, but she couldn’t speak. If she did, her voice would most likely crack, and then she’d cry and…well, Bella didn’t want to admit to Prissa or anyone else what she’d just overheard. She didn’t even want to admit it to herself.
She blinked back a traitorous tear, bolted away from her sister, and then up the staircase toward her chambers.
* * *
Bella had pouredherself into painting all afternoon, or rather she’d attempted to. Until today, mixing colors and bringing a canvas to life with images that only existed in her mind had always been the quickest way to push unhappiness from her thoughts. But even her beloved paints and brushes failed at transporting her from the troubles swirling about her mind. For the first time in her life, she wondered if this was what her mother had felt before she’d abandoned them all those years ago.
Of course, she’d hate for Papa to discover her painting. Being drawn to colors and paintbrushes was just one of the many ways she was like her mother, at least according to her older brother’s recollections. And while Papa never said as much, she suspected her love of paints reminded her father of earlier, unhappier times.
She knew, of course, that at any given moment, Papa would knock on her door and inform her of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding her dreaded cousin. She steeled herself for the visit. She tried to prepare to hear the words he’d have to say. And she told herself over and over not to cry when Papa arrived. Crying wouldn’t change her circumstances, and they’d only prove to make Papa feel worse. But all the waiting and preparing had been for naught.
Papa hadn’t come.