When Isabella gave Arabella Mr Haythorn's message, Arabella shrugged it off.

"These young men always think they're in love with one," she said with a sigh. "What a nuisance. But don't tell anyone, will you? It's the sort of thing that shouldn't get about. I'll meet him tonight and let him down gently, so he'll stop bothering me."

That came as a surprise to Isabella. She had thought there was love in the way Arabella had laid her head on Charles's shoulder — but perhaps not.

If the arranged let-down was gentle or not, Isabella did not know. She was asleep by ten o'clock that night, and slept fast through until dawn the next morning. After washing and dressing, it occurred to her that Arabella might need waking — Arabella always slept late — for her journey that day. She tiptoed down the hall, careful not to make any noise lest she wake Edwina or her mother and father. Arabella's room was yet in darkness, the curtains tightly closed. Isabella whispered her name once, and, when no answer came, fumbled her way to the bed. She patted across the covers for Arabella. Instead of the warmth and bulk of a body, her hand met only cool, smooth silk. The bed was empty.

Isabella stumbled to the window and threw the curtains wide. Enough pale light came into the room to show it had been abandoned. The chest at the end of the bed stood open, one sleeve of a nightgown hanging forlornly out of it. The usually cluttered dressing table was denuded of all but an empty box of tooth powder, a candle stub — and a letter, lying open between them.

Isabella picked it up with shaking fingers.

Dear Edwina,

I know you'll be furious with me but I can't do it any longer — I can't stay married to that vile man. You must forgive me — or don't, what do I care — but I have fallen in love and gone away with the only man for me in the entire world. You will have to make my excuses to Locke if you care. If you are really as clever as you believe, you will find a way to keep it from him.

Arabella

Isabella sat slowly down upon the bed. Then Arabella had been in love with Charles Haythorn after all — poor Arabella!

But the scandal of it — this could not be hidden! Mr Locke was returning to London this afternoon, and he wanted Arabella to be at home to greet him. Isabella got up and hurried to Edwina's room, where Edwina was yet sleeping, all but her nose buried beneath the covers.

"There's a problem," Isabella said. "Edwina, there's a big problem."

"Go away," Edwina muttered.

"Arabella's run away with Charles Haythorn."

For a moment Edwina was silent. Then the covers heaved as she sat up. "That selfish little bitch!"

"But Edwina, she must love him." Isabella pressed the note into Edwina's hands. "Read it."

Edwina had to squint in the dim light to do so. Her frown creased the lines on her forehead. She scowled and crumpled the letter up.

"I don't know what we'll do now."

"We — we must beg Mr Locke to be merciful to her."

"Pah!" Edwina tossed the note into the empty grate. "Burn that."

"But—"

"Do as I say."

There was steel in Edwina's voice. Isabella went to the fireplace and set the tinderbox to the letter. It blackened, shrunk, and disintegrated to ashes.

"We must prevent Mr Locke from finding out about this," Edwina said.

"It cannot be kept from him. Arabella gave no word of where she has gone. We cannot bring her back. Even if we could, she would only return to him sooner or later."

"Pah. Arabella's got no more constancy than a tomcat." Edwina got out of bed and slipped into her dressing gown. "She'll be back before long. Haythorn's got no money."

"I cannot believe that. She must have been deeply in love with him to even consider it."

Edwina rolled her eyes and went to the washstand where she started to wash her face. "She'll be back. All we have to do is delay Locke from finding out she has run away until she comes back or he leaves for the Continent again."

"Surely he'll want to see her."

"I will manage it for us," she said through a damp towel. "I will tell Locke myself that Arabella is with friends in Brighton — no, even better, Harrogate. He'll never chase her down there. And a month from now, he'll return to the Continent, none the wiser."

Isabella had her doubts, but Edwina looked so well pleased with herself that she dared not utter them. Instead, she went to Arabella's bedroom to make it look like the bed had been slept in.

Edwina broke the news to their parents at breakfast.

"Arabella has gone off," she said lightly, as though Arabella had only gone down to the village for a moment. "I expect she will be back before long, but it has put us in a bit of a bind, with Mr Locke returning to London this afternoon."

Sir Edwin dragged his attention away from his toast and bacon and eggs and kippers and jam and coffee. "What do you mean, 'gone off?" he growled; he was always in a bad temper before he had fed himself in the mornings.

"I mean she's gone off," Edwina said, slicing the top off a boiled egg with one swipe of her knife. "It's Charles Haythorn she's gone with."

Lady Garvey fluttered her hand about her jet necklace, her face very pale above it. "Oh dear! Oh dear! I do wish she had not!"

"Wishing doesn't do much good, where Arabella is concerned," Edwina said. "Pass the salt, Isabella."

In a daze, Isabella passed the nearest object to her.

"I said the salt!" Edwina said sharply. "Not the jam!"

Isabella gave a hasty apology and found the salt instead. She could not understand Edwina's sanguine attitude. The blow to their family's reputation would be irrecoverable. Once, six years ago, she had been foolish enough to linger too long in the spring woods with a gentleman, too long and too close. They had been seen, and the scandal that had followed had left her parents with no recourse but to send her away to Mrs Phillips in the country. And this was much worse. Arabella was married. Not only that, Arabella loved Mr Haythorn. It was not just her reputation she stood to break, but her heart as well.

At least Lady Garvey was not sanguine. "I do not know what we shall do!" she said. "Arabella gone and Locke returning this afternoon — he will want to see her! He will find out!"

"We will tell him she has gone away to Harrogate," Edwina said. "He will not care to go after her."

"But he must suspect! That silly girl! Could she not—"

Sir Edwin held up a hand, one finger raised, while he chewed a gritty slice of bacon. Lady Garvey silenced her squeaks of distress but continued to flutter her fingers about her necklace. Edwina waited, her brows raised a fraction in expectation. At last, Sir Edwin swallowed and spoke:

"Edwina, are you certain that Mr Locke will not find out about Arabella's indiscretion?"

"I am certain that he will not seek her if I tell him she is elsewhere."

"Then you must do so." Sir Edwin speared another slice of bacon, droplets of oil spattering over the table cloth. "Thank God I was granted one sensible daughter!"

Isabella bit back a protest. She was sensible, she thought. She had made one mistake when she was seventeen, and behaved herself thereafter.

Lady Garvey, who had never been called sensible and would not see the compliment in it if she had been, twisted her fingers through her jet necklace, her neck red and white where it dug into her flesh.

"Do you think, Edwina darling," she began hesitantly, "that you could press Mr Locke to help us with a small bill? It has been weighing on my mind recently — and our circumstances are not what they used to be."

"Impossible," Edwina said. "He considers himself obligated to Arabella, not to us. Without her to ask it of him, we won't see a penny."

Lady Garvey dropped her necklace, her thin lips suddenly tight and querulous. "It really is very selfish of her! When I have a pressing bill just now — she knows I do!"

"It will have to wait until she comes back," Edwina said. "Really, she's put us to a great deal of strife, but I will see us straight, Mama."

"Ah, but can you lend me five hundred and fifty pounds!" Lady Garvey said. "I think not!"

Even Edwina went pale at that. "What on earth have you been buying, Mother!?"

"It is not that — I bought nothing — it was a little loo, my dear. A little vingt-et-un. Perhaps some farro. There is so little to do in the country of a winter evening."

Two bright red circles bloomed on Edwina's cheeks. She laid her knife down on her plate with a clang. "My God — and is my husband who will inherit your debts when you are both dead! Mother!"

Lady Garvey raised her napkin to her eyes. "I do not like it when my daughter speaks to me so harshly."

Edwina made a sound of disgust. Lady Garvey lowered the napkin half-an-inch to peer hopefully at Isabella. For a moment, Isabella wondered why, and then she understood that her mother wanted her comfort, the same way Arabella would have given it, with effusions of sympathy and pity. Effusions of any kind were beyond Isabella. She merely stared at her mother, a dull, heavy weight inside her. Everything was wrong, she thought. Arabella lost, her family ruined, and scandal hovering over them all like a guillotine.

Edwina was staring out the window, a faint frown on her face, her hazel eyes wide and pale with anger.

"We must pay off Mother's debt before it becomes any larger," she said, her voice flat. "Father, is there no money?"

"There is not five hundred and fifty pounds." Sir Edwin's cheeks were purple. "You told me it was just a little whist, Marina."

"Sometimes it was whist," Lady Garvey protested. "Sometimes I was winning."

An argument started up between her parents, Sir Edwin's gravelly voice booming, and Lady Garvey's shriller tones cutting in on top. Isabella had forgotten how they used to do that. She looked to Edwina, who was biting her lip so hard it was white.

"We need Mr Locke," she said in a low voice. "Five hundred and fifty pounds! It will ruin us!"

"Will he help us, do you think, without Arabella?" Isabella asked. "Could we not appeal to his better side?"

"He doesn't have one," Edwina said. "He has explained to me before that he feels a duty towards his wife's mistakes, but not towards ours. No. We are done without her."

"Then we are done."

"Perhaps." Edwina stared at Isabella, the colour returning to her lips. "Perhaps not."

Isabella felt a shadow of misgiving. "What do you mean?"

Edwina leaned over the table to lift Isabella's chin, scrutinizing her face. "You have a few more freckles than she, but freckles do grow with time. No, if you were to wear her clothes, he would not notice a difference. He only sees her once a year after all."

Isabella jerked away. Lady Garvey and Sir Edwin fell quiet and looked thoughtfully at her.

"Locke will not refuse Arabella what she asks of him," Edwina said softly. "Or someone he believes to be Arabella."

Sir Edwin pinched his chin. "That is rather a cunning scheme, my daughter. And it would have the advantage of hiding Arabella's disappearance from Mr Locke too."

"Edwina, I can't." Isabella was horrified at the idea of it. "To pretend that I'm Arabella — to deceive her husband! Even if it weren't wrong, it's certainly impossible! He will know the moment he looks at me!"

"No he won't!"

Edwina got up and ran her hands through Isabella's hair, disarranging her neat bun until locks came loose over her forehead and ears. They tickled her eyelashes, and Isabella blinked.

"A little rouge on the cheeks..." Edwina pinched them. "And one of Arabella's dresses, and there is no one in the world who would swear you were not her."

"It is very true," Sir Edwin said. "They are exactly alike in appearance, but their manners are so very different, Edwina."

"A manner is nothing!" Lady Garvey said. "All Isabella needs to do is act a little more lively, be a little more interesting."

Isabella had had enough of it. She stood up, rearranging her hair and rubbing at her cheeks. "No. I won't do it. Even if I thought I could get away with it, I would not. It is wrong. Can you not see that? It is a lie."

Three pairs of eyes looked baldly at her. They did not see it, Isabella realized.

"Five hundred and fifty pounds," Sir Edwin said. "It will ruin me."

"You are the only one who can help us, Isabella," Lady Garvey said severely, "and you will not do it, so it is your fault if your father ends up the debtor's prison and I am made a widow and shunned by my friends."

"It will save our reputation, you well know that. And," Edwina added, "it is not as though Mr Locke cannot afford it."

Isabella shook her head. "I can't. You cannot ask me — you should not."

Edwina pressed her lips tightly together. Sir Edwin gave a grunt of disgust. Lady Garvey patted at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"She's too much of a coward to try," Sir Edwin said at last. "A great misfortune it is that my youngest children are both selfish and foolish. It is not my side of the family it comes from."

"Well I am sure it is not mine!" Lady Garvey retorted. "Isabella, really! After taking you back in, this is how you repay us?"

Isabella said nothing. She was not even sure she could truly deny being selfish, and a fool, and a coward. She turned and left the room. Behind her, Lady Garvey and Sir Edwin broke out into argument again.

Isabella went up to Arabella's room, where she sat down on the bed and stared at the open wardrobe. Many of Arabella's clothes still sat folded within it. She must have taken only what she could carry with her. In autumn she would get cold, unless Mr Haythorn could afford to buy her new shawls and cloaks. Isabella did not think he could.

There was a knock at the door, and Isabella lifted her head, but it was only Edwina. She came in, shutting the door behind her.

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Edwina said.

"It would be wrong."

Edwina gave a heavy sigh and sat down on the bed next to Isabella. "You wanted to be useful, didn't you? You wanted to come back here and help us. Well, the help we need is this."

Determined not to be persuaded, incapable of protesting, Isabella stayed silent.

"We're as good as ruined if you don't do it," Edwina continued. "Locke's been keeping us afloat these past five years. Every hole we've ever gotten into — and there have been many, while you were away with Mrs Phillips you might not have realized that — he's gotten us out of. He hates us, he hates Arabella, but he stands by her, and she, for all her flaws, stands by us. But you?" Edwina shook her head. "Where do you stand?"

"I cannot do what is wrong."

"Is it wrong? To save your sister's reputation, to save your family's honour?"

"But to lie to a man who has done me no harm, who has been wronged by Arabella—"

"Pah! And has wronged her in return! If you saw the way he treated her, you would have no qualms about it. He is vile to her."

Isabella looked down at her lap.

"And he will be worse, you know, when he finds out what she has done. He will drag her through the divorce court. He will shame her in front of England. He will leave her with nothing. And that is only what he will do in public. Who knows what his anger will be like in private. And you, you could prevent that. You could protect Arabella."

"Don't say that. Don't put it that way."

"But it is that way. You say that you are doing what is right, but you are abandoning Arabella, let alone the rest of us. What is right about that?"

Doubt nipped at Isabella's heart. She stared at her knees.

"You could, if you so chose, save Arabella from the consequences of her action," Edwina said, her voice very, very soft. "I want you to know that."

"S-she chose her own action."

"And hasn't she tried to save you from your mistakes? Papa and mother did not forgive you, you know, but Arabella always stood up for you, after your flirtation with Mr Quale."

Even hearing the name sent shivers of shame down Isabella's spine. She bit her lip.

"There is no right choice," Edwina said. "There is only what will save Arabella — save your family — and what will damn them."

"He'll find out," Isabella whispered. "I cannot deceive him — he will know."

"No. No, he sees her so infrequently that he could not suspect — not in an hour, perhaps not in a day. And that is all it would take, you know. Present yourself before him as Arabella, save her reputation, at the very least. Tomorrow I will figure out a scheme to get you away from his house. Away from him."

"And the money?"

"Arabella would ask for it."

Isabella stared off into the distance and wondered what Mr Locke was truly like — ugly, cruel, cruellest to Arabella. He must have been cruel, if Arabella had run away. And he would be crueller still if he discovered this. Perhaps it could be kept from him — at least, until Arabella was safe from his anger.

That was what decided Isabella in the end. She would protect Arabella, as Arabella had attempted to protect her.

"Tomorrow morning," she said, "you find an excuse for me to leave his house. You will do that?"

Edwina's lips thinned as she smiled. "I promise."

__

A/N: Sometimes I think I enjoy writing dysfunctional families more than I do the romance bits, if I'm honest! But we meet our male hero next chapter, and I'm having fun with him too.