A March to Marquess | A Regency Romance

Chapter Five

***Writers Note: I really hope you're enjoying my story so far. I t is a work of fiction, but I've been working hard to make this as period accurate, so if I've made any mistakes, I apologize! Please feel free to correct me or even comment your favorite part. Now without further adieu, let's meet Lord Dunmore.***

Isabella sat at the dining room table for breakfast. She picked at the food on her plate, taking small bites of buttered toast and sips of tea. Sunlight streamed in the window, casting a soft diffused glow through sheer lace curtains. Her father flipped through The London Chronicle and The Times, picking up pieces of bread and sips of tea.

Lady Welton entered the dining room and sat down at the table. Ms. McDougal, the head housekeeper, brought her the ledgers and a few letters.

"Tonight is the dinner, Ms. McDougal. Is everything set and Cook is preparing the menu?" She didn't look up as she signed off on a few bills.

"Yes ma'am, everything is on schedule. We did find it hard to acquire nectarines, so Cook decided to have poached pears instead."

"That is fine. We need to make sure that the drawing room is opened up and there are chairs set up for after dinner entertainment."

"Of course, madam. Do you need anything else?"

"No, that is all." Her step-mother dismissed Ms. McDougal with a wave of her hand.

"This is madness!" Lord Welton's tea cup clattered in the saucer. Lady Welton and Isabella, startled, looked up at him. A footman stood beside him holding a silver platter. Lord Welton folded the letter and pushed his chair back and stood up abruptly. He folded the letter against his stomach. "I must respond to this letter post-haste."

He left the room and Isabella jumped when she heard the door slam to the library.

Ignoring Lord Welton's outburst, Lady Welton spoke to Isabella. "Let us call on Lady Wells this afternoon. I would also like to see if Lady Rothchild is receiving callers. She dropped her calling card yesterday to inform us she is in Town." Isabella nodded her head in agreement. "I suggest that you practice the pianoforte. You shall play tonight. You must impress Lord Dunmore."

"Yes, I shall practice. Is there any song in particular you would like me to play?"

"There is some sheet music already in the room for you to play."

Isabella finished her cup of tea and gracefully stood up. "Lest you forget, Lord Dunmore will be here to see if you are fit for a wife. I highly suggest you share interest in the topics he brings up." She looked Isabella right in the eye. "I do not want to see any behavior on the contrary. This may be your only chance."

Isabella swiped her hands under her bottom and sat down on the bench, spreading her dress like she had been taught so many times before. She shuffled the sheet music, that she had copied many years ago, across the holder and then started the metronome. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Her fingers slid gently down the black keys, barely pressing down as she made the first chord. Ignoring the sheet music, a slow, melancholy sonata came to her as she used muscle memory to play it. She wasn't a natural at the pianoforte, but she was able to play enough that was passable by Lady Welton.

She remembered when she was just a girl of six or seven, Lady Welton picked her up and sat her on the pianoforte bench at Oakwood Manor and did not let her get up until she had successfully played through her first scale. Lady Welton had only been her step-mother for a few months. She sat in a chair and said "again, again," until she got it right.

When Isabella finished playing the sonata, she moved on to a more cheerful tune. She knew the sonata wasn't what everyone wanted to hear. Ladies were not supposed to feel and express so much emotion. She wasn't even supposed to know the sonata, but a guest musician at Oakwood Manor accidentally left the handwritten piece at the pianoforte there. She was only a girl of 12 when she discovered it. She would practice in the early morning before Lady Welton came to check on her and observe her progress. When her step-mother would enter, she would play something more upbeat and entertaining.