An Impossible Deception

Chapter Four: An Embarrassment of Riches

Isabella smoothed down the silk skirts of Arabella's dress. She had never worn anything so fine before in her life, but, even though the dress was just a little loose, she felt like it was strangling her. On the carriage seat opposite, Edwina sat looking very composed and perhaps just a little pleased with herself.

"He will know," Isabella repeated, for the hundredth time since their carriage had set off from the Garvey's Hertfordshire home. "He will know as soon as he sees me."

"Nonsense. I have told you, he'll have no idea. Just don't look scared. Arabella never looks scared."

Isabella bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. They were in the outskirts of London now, and could not be far from Mr Locke's house, though the carriage had slowed to a crawl in the crowded streets. Isabella had never seen so many people before in her life. Every one of them, no matter how finely dressed or handsome, looked somehow dirty. Perhaps it was because the dust of the streets was coming up under the carriage wheels. Even with the glass up, Isabella could smell horse manure and sewerage seeping into the air of the carriage. She envied Edwina's lavender nosegay.

When they reached Bloomsbury Square, where Mr Locke lived, Isabella was relieved to find it seemed slightly cleaner than the rest of London. An imposing facade of grand, pale buildings, all very much alike, looked out over a flat fenced lawn. Mr Locke's house was a dour-looking yellow brick building towards one corner of the square. Their groom banged the knocker, and when a butler opened the door, Edwina elbowed Isabella in the waist.

As she had been coached, Isabella swept, or tried to, up the whitewashed front steps and through the open door.

"My sister is just visiting, White," Isabella said to the butler. "The carriage will wait for her."

"Welcome home, madame," White said, bowing.

Isabella opened her mouth to say hello and then shut it. Of course Arabella would not say hello to a butler. Isabella did not think even ordinary people said hello to their butlers.

Edwina stalked off down the hall, and Isabella scurried after her. A carpeted staircase occupied one side of the hall, on the other was a wooden door.

"Locke's study," Edwina said in a low voice. "You'll never need to go in there."

Further down the hall, under an archway, was a set of painted double doors. "Dining room," Edwina muttered as she passed it. Beyond that was the last door of the downstairs hall, which Edwina opened. It led to a narrow room lent cheer by yellow wallpaper and a fire burning in the grate. It was rather cluttered too, with two settees and several matching chairs by the fire, and a work table and a desk by the windows.

"Arabella's sitting room," Edwina said. "She usually spends most of the day in here, but when people call — even me — she prefers to receive them upstairs in the drawing room. Don't forget that, if someone calls."

"Can't I just say I'm not at home?"

"I suppose, for now," Edwina said vaguely. "Come on, you'd better see the upstairs too."

They went back into the hall and up the stairs. On the floor above was the drawing room, stretching the width of the house and looking out over the square. Edwina didn't give Isabella more than a glimpse of it before hustling her onwards to the room behind, which was Arabella's bedroom, a vision in royal blue and gold.

"Locke's bedroom is on the floor above," Edwina explained, sitting down on Arabella's bed. "So don't go up there. Now, he'll be back later this afternoon, and he'll want you to be at dinner with him this evening, but after that, come to my house, and tell me how he was."