madam. . . I. . . You. . ."
"I took your advice, Mr. Churchward," Isabella said, "and arranged a marriage. You will find that it is quite legal."
Mr. Churchward was flushed with agitation. The certificate dropped from his nerveless fingers to the wooden table. He moved several files agitatedly and at random, upsetting the ordered calm of his desktop.
"My advice was to marry a gentleman of fortune, Princess, not a debtor!" he spluttered. "Upon my word, madam, I cannot believe—" He broke off and scanned the sheet of paper. "It is legal, you say?"
"Of course." Isabella looked very collected. "It is also temporary. As we agreed yesterday, Mr. Churchward, I would like you to place the house in Brunswick Gardens up for sale. I think it will fetch a goodly sum, for it is in quite a fashionable neighborhood. Once the sale is made and Aunt Jane's legacy is also proved, I will pay Henshalls what I owe them."
Mr. Churchward made a whimpering noise like a cat inadvertently trodden upon. He removed his glasses and polished them feverishly. The dent that they had left on his nose was bright red against the pallor of the rest of his face. Even his voice sounded pale.
"And the marriage, madam?"
"I will end that as well, of course." Isabella snapped her reticule shut with a decisive click. "It is a matter of convenience only. Mr. Ellis will be confined to the Fleet for the foreseeable future."
Various objections flitted through Mr. Churchward's mind. Doubtless the princess, like many other persons unacquainted with the law, thought that it was relatively simple to achieve an annulment of a marriage. Most people erroneously assumed that non-consummation was sufficient grounds. He started to rehearse the explanations in his mind, saw the decisive set of Isabella's jaw, and decided to bide his time. It was, after all, too late. Part of the skill in dealing with his noble clients lay in choosing one's moment. This was not the right time to suggest to the princess that she might in fact be wed for better or worse.
Mr. Churchward mopped his forehead with his large, practical handkerchief.
"I shall not take any more of your time, Mr. Churchward," Isabella said. She gave him a final, very sweet smile. "I shall be leaving Town for my house in Salterton in a few weeks, but I should be delighted to entertain you to tea before I go."
"Salterton. . . Of course. . . We must speak further about your inheritance. . . ." Mr. Churchward mumbled. Another raft of objections came into his mind. He had not yet had the chance to speak to Princess Isabella in detail about her legacy from her aunt, Lady Jane Southern, for other more pressing matters had taken precedence. He wondered how much the princess knew about her inheritance of Salterton Hall and the encumbrances upon the estate.
Churchward mopped his brow again. Should he acquaint her with the difficulties now, and explain the very delicate nature of her relationship with her tenant in the dower house? He hesitated. Best not. Isabella was already on her feet in preparation for leaving. He did not wish to detain her now.
"Perhaps we might make an appointment for next week, madam," he suggested. "I would appreciate the opportunity to acquaint you with the detail of your estate."
Isabella nodded.
'Thank you, Mr. Churchward. Will Tuesday be convenient?"
She was already halfway out of the door, leaving nothing but a faint, delicious perfume shimmering in the air. Churchward heard her give an airy farewell to the staff in the outer office; there was the sound of her steps on the stairs, gathering speed as though she were rid of some tiresome encumbrance. Mr. Churchward smiled wryly. By the time she reached the street she would be almost running.
He perused the marriage lines and the promissory note for a third time. His hand stole toward the drawer of his battered cabinet, where a bottle of sherry was hidden for emergencies. This was a full-scale emergency if ever there was one. He paused. It
"I took your advice, Mr. Churchward," Isabella said, "and arranged a marriage. You will find that it is quite legal."
Mr. Churchward was flushed with agitation. The certificate dropped from his nerveless fingers to the wooden table. He moved several files agitatedly and at random, upsetting the ordered calm of his desktop.
"My advice was to marry a gentleman of fortune, Princess, not a debtor!" he spluttered. "Upon my word, madam, I cannot believe—" He broke off and scanned the sheet of paper. "It is legal, you say?"
"Of course." Isabella looked very collected. "It is also temporary. As we agreed yesterday, Mr. Churchward, I would like you to place the house in Brunswick Gardens up for sale. I think it will fetch a goodly sum, for it is in quite a fashionable neighborhood. Once the sale is made and Aunt Jane's legacy is also proved, I will pay Henshalls what I owe them."
Mr. Churchward made a whimpering noise like a cat inadvertently trodden upon. He removed his glasses and polished them feverishly. The dent that they had left on his nose was bright red against the pallor of the rest of his face. Even his voice sounded pale.
"And the marriage, madam?"
"I will end that as well, of course." Isabella snapped her reticule shut with a decisive click. "It is a matter of convenience only. Mr. Ellis will be confined to the Fleet for the foreseeable future."
Various objections flitted through Mr. Churchward's mind. Doubtless the princess, like many other persons unacquainted with the law, thought that it was relatively simple to achieve an annulment of a marriage. Most people erroneously assumed that non-consummation was sufficient grounds. He started to rehearse the explanations in his mind, saw the decisive set of Isabella's jaw, and decided to bide his time. It was, after all, too late. Part of the skill in dealing with his noble clients lay in choosing one's moment. This was not the right time to suggest to the princess that she might in fact be wed for better or worse.
Mr. Churchward mopped his forehead with his large, practical handkerchief.
"I shall not take any more of your time, Mr. Churchward," Isabella said. She gave him a final, very sweet smile. "I shall be leaving Town for my house in Salterton in a few weeks, but I should be delighted to entertain you to tea before I go."
"Salterton. . . Of course. . . We must speak further about your inheritance. . . ." Mr. Churchward mumbled. Another raft of objections came into his mind. He had not yet had the chance to speak to Princess Isabella in detail about her legacy from her aunt, Lady Jane Southern, for other more pressing matters had taken precedence. He wondered how much the princess knew about her inheritance of Salterton Hall and the encumbrances upon the estate.
Churchward mopped his brow again. Should he acquaint her with the difficulties now, and explain the very delicate nature of her relationship with her tenant in the dower house? He hesitated. Best not. Isabella was already on her feet in preparation for leaving. He did not wish to detain her now.
"Perhaps we might make an appointment for next week, madam," he suggested. "I would appreciate the opportunity to acquaint you with the detail of your estate."
Isabella nodded.
'Thank you, Mr. Churchward. Will Tuesday be convenient?"
She was already halfway out of the door, leaving nothing but a faint, delicious perfume shimmering in the air. Churchward heard her give an airy farewell to the staff in the outer office; there was the sound of her steps on the stairs, gathering speed as though she were rid of some tiresome encumbrance. Mr. Churchward smiled wryly. By the time she reached the street she would be almost running.
He perused the marriage lines and the promissory note for a third time. His hand stole toward the drawer of his battered cabinet, where a bottle of sherry was hidden for emergencies. This was a full-scale emergency if ever there was one. He paused. It
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