Page 63 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“Then I do not know what else to say to you, Your Grace.”
Nash crouched before her, alarmed when he saw how red and puffy her face was. Isabella was clearly miserable, leaving him helpless until she told him what was wrong. He wanted to help her and needed her to understand that.
“Tell me what has happened, Isabella. Please. Seeing you like this is distressing.”
Isabella turned to him, horror shining through her wet eyes. “I do not wish to bring distress upon you, Your Grace. You have already helped me so much.”
“Then allow me to help you again,” he insisted. “Tell me the problem, and I will fix it.”
Isabella lowered her eyes, hiding her expressive eyes from him. “I ... I wish to know who I am, Your Grace. I wish to know who I am and finally go home.”
Nash stood up, taken aback that Isabella wished to leave. He should understand that need, he truly should, but he didn’t want to at that moment.
“Why?” he asked, his voice a tad strangled.
“I am grateful for all you have done for me, but there is nothing for me here. I have no one besides the friends I have made, but what if they should leave the manor one day?
I have a family and another life somewhere out there, but I cannot recall enough to help me remember who I am. I am at the mercy of strangers, and I simply cannot take it anymore.”
“I see,” said Nash.
Isabella’s words sat like a heavy stone in the pit of his belly, weighing him down. She wanted to leave, and it bothered him.
“I will give you some time to yourself,” he told her. “I must return to the guests.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Nash nodded, although Isabella couldn’t see him, and slowly turned back to the house. Perhaps it was time to become serious about finding her family and give her what she wanted no matter how much it troubled him. It was the right thing to do.
Chapter 13
Juliana sat with her chin in her hand a few days later, staring into her cold beef stew. It had been the previous night’s dinner, and now it was breakfast for the servants who were fortunate enough to get some. Cook had added some offal for more flavour and bulk and sprinkled in a few herbs at the end to give it a little earthiness.
It truly was a delicious dish that Juliana usually enjoyed, but it might as well have been wood shavings and floppy sticks in muddy water for all she cared. Bits of yellow fat had congealed along the edges of the bowl and around the chunks of meat and vegetable that provided the stew with its heartiness, slightly turning her stomach the longer she looked at the dish.
It had been hot when Juliana first sat down to eat, but she had hardly touched it since then, only pushing it around with a spoon and ignoring the fresh roll beside the bowl.
“Are you not going to eat that?” Kitty asked, using a piece of her roll to mop up the rest of her soup.
Juliana pushed the bowl towards her. “You may have my share with pleasure.”
Kitty eagerly took it but paused before she put her spoon into it. “Usually, I would be happy to take your share, but you have hardly eaten for several days now. You need this more than I do.”
“I will eat when my appetite returns, Kitty. If you do not take the stew, someone else will. Can you live with yourself knowing that you could have had it, but you refused?”
Kitty answered by mixing in the fat until only tiny specks dotted the stew before taking a big spoonful.
“It’s colder than I would have liked it, but it’s still delicious,” she commented, her mouth full.
The sight of chewed food made Juliana a little ill, so she looked away and watched the other servants enter the kitchen. She and Kitty were always the first to arrive after Cook, Mrs Black, and Mr Stevens, which meant they had the opportunity to have some of the previous night’s dinner for breakfast if there was anything left.
“Is there enough for the rest of us?” Mary Calendar asked.
“There is enough for four more people,” Cook said, walking into the room. “You and Mary March were supposed to be awake an hour ago to help me bake the loaves of bread. I mentioned that I needed a little time to go to the market today. My grandson is coming to pay me a visit, and I wish to buy him a little gift.”
Mary Calendar’s cheeks turned bright pink. “My apologies, Cook. Mary March was snoring so much that it kept me awake for much of the night. I think she has a little cold.”
The young woman in question walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes before lifting the hem of her apron to cough into it.
