✔ Mrs Mandray

22. The Letter

Isabella

Oliver cried whenever he looked at her. It had been a few days and the worst of the bruising and swelling had gone down but the red marks on my neck were still present. Tomas hadn't damaged her face and the new scarf would cover up the bruising on her neck well enough for the visit to her sisters.

The Queens had finally deigned to reply. Isabella couldn't say that she wasn't relieved but she had just wished it wasn't when she was limping around like a damn fool. The walk over to her sisters was blissfully quiet. Oliver was staying with his grandmother while she met up with the fae messenger.

She knew it was her fault; not getting pregnant. Isabella had been taking little care of herself, eating less and less and.... And Mrs Mandray was right. For a while she was taking a contraceptive tea, she hadn't been ready for a baby and didn't want to face that discussion with Tomas.

Though she knew it wasn't Tomas who decided. It's why she could never fully blame, never hate him for the bruises. If only he could just escape his father's claws. Then they would have a chance.

For a moment she had thought about leaving Tomas, then cursed herself for being so foolish. He had been devastated when he woke the next day and saw the damage. He lost control, he had never meant to hurt her so much. If his bastard of a father hadn't poisoned his mind with lies then none of this would have happened.

But it was nice having Tomas dote on her these past days. He made breakfast (her favourite - pancakes and berries), did the laundry (the bedsheets and clothing) and played with Ollie (A silly little game of knights and monsters).

Isabella did her best to hide her limp, fixing her scarf and shawl against the winter breeze before knocking on the dark oak doors of her sisters' manor. Mrs Lawrent scowled when she opened the door before a familiar look of pity crossed her face. It was the same look Mrs Cromwell had given her yesterday.

Neither of them spoke. The housekeeper just opened the door wider before closing it against the howling wind. It was only once Isabella had left her cloak on the rack and found her sequestered in a library that Mrs Lawrent finally spoke. A promise of tea to fend off the cold. Isabella made no comment when she recognised the flavour as one she gave patients in pain.

Eventually she was left in peace with promises of her summoning her twin. The thought of Nesta's reaction has her straightening up. Her sister wouldn't understand. She would jump to conclusions and place sole blame on Tomas. Isabella wasn't foolish. She knew Tomas had been wrong to hit her, she knew that wasn't love but she also knew he did love her. That she loved him and it was just this twisted situation that poisoned them over time.

A quick glance in the mirror above the mantle had Isabella's hair and scarf plucked and moved to strategically hide the worst of the bruising. She had been shoved into one of the head height cupboards that had collapsed under her weight. So that would be her a lie. Isabella prayed that it would be more believable since it was partly true.

Except all thoughts of lies and deceit slipped from her mind when a beaming Cassian entered the room. For a moment the breath rushed out of her lungs when he loped towards her, package in hand and a proud smile on his face. A smile that dropped the second he caught sight of her.

A heartbeat later Cassian was cradling her face, his rough hands warm against her frozen skin as he tilted her head side to side. Isabella just stared at him. Taking in the furrowed brows, tight lips and furious gaze. She expected herself to be frightened or maybe repulsed by another man- male's touch but she was't.

Something that had been agitated in her soul since Tomas raised a hand to her settled. Soothed by the male who gently led her to the sofa where the package was discarded. Once he had seen that she was bundled away carefully in layers of blankets Cassian finally stopped fussing.