A different pupil, a tall girl of about the same age as her, dressed in a pale blue shift, her hair pulled high on her head, revealing a leather collar with the initials LS in gold leaf, entered Isabella's room.
'I am to wash and prepare you for your first lesson,' the girl said softly, taking hold of Isabella's hand.
'I do not require any assistance,' Isabella growled, snatching her hand away. 'Go away, I will wash and dress myself.'
The girl remained, infuriating Isabella further. Why do these people think they can control her every move? She had no intention of complying with their silly rules and regulations, and was certainly not going to endure any of their lessons in behaviour.
'If you do not allow me to prepare you, my master will consider it a failure on my part,' the girl said, her lip trembling.
'I care not for what your master thinks. Leave me.' Isabella snapped.
The girl opened her mouth as if to speak then quickly left the room. As the door was pulled shut, Isabella thought she heard a small sob.
Perhaps she was being a little hard. It seemed to Isabella that the other girls were terrified of disobeying their masters. Were they all here by choice? She certainly hadn't wanted to be here and she definitely did not want to marry. But sometimes life does not go as hoped. Isabella opened the door. The girl was standing in the corridor as if she did not know what to do next.
'Come in, let's get this over quickly.'
The girl smiled gratefully and quickly set about preparing Isabella for her first lesson at Pendragon Hall. After Isabella had been washed, her hair combed and dressed in a fresh pure white silk shift, she allowed the girl to take hold of her hand and lead her down the long corridor, down the wide staircase and through a carved oak door.
Isabella looked around the large panelled room, lit only by candles, leaving the edge of the room in shadow. The girl left and the door shut behind her. Isabella was alone. The room, warmed by a fire crackling in a large grate, was dominated by a huge granite fireplace. Facing the fire was Miss Frobisher. She did not turn around or even acknowledge Isabella's presence.
'You ordered that I should come and see you,' Isabella announced, holding her head high. She was becoming increasingly irate at being treated as if she were little more than a servant, rather than the daughter of a Baronet and the fiancée of an Earl. When she was married, and eventually became Lady DeVillier she would demand respect, there would be no place in her household for such a person as this so-called Mistress of Pendragon House.
'I understand you spurned the assistant we sent to dress you,' the Mistress said without turning from facing the fire, her voice colder than a harsh winter frost.
'I did not need anyone to help me, and certainly not one of those girls. I am used to my own ladies maid,' Isabella missed the familiar presence of her maid, and wished Mary had been allowed to accompany her, silently she promised to be kinder to the girl in future. 'Anyway I did allow her to dress me.'
'It was not for you to dismiss at your whim then call them back as if they were mere servants. Those who are sent to you do it because they want to please their master. As we speak her master is deciding if she failed by being so treated, and of course she will have to face any punishment he devises for such failure.'
'It was not her failure. I did not really need her,' Isabella protested.
Miss Frobisher sighed. 'When you have been here for a few weeks, Isabella, you will understand how important it is to be obedient. The girl who accompanied you from your home, Hannah has been sent here by an aged aunt to learn obedience and service, and she did not obey so she had been punished. The girl, charged with assisting you with your preparations, a task set by her master, was to learn to serve without question.'
'But, I did not know, I thought.....'
'Isabella, the problem is that you do not think, and you are unaware of how your actions affect others,' said the Mistress turning from the fire. Her face was hard and unforgiving and Isabella shuddered, cold fingers of fear creeping down her spine. 'Now, I think you ready to learn your first lesson.'
Isabella stood, unable to move, or to answer. She had a sinking feeling inside that if she protested whatever Miss Frobisher had planned for her, may be have just been made much worse.
'Sit.'
A finger jabbed out and pointed to a small leather footstool. Isabella had no choice but to sit on the edge. The green leather was smooth to touch, but felt cold through the thin silk shift.
'As we discussed you have been sent to learn how to live a virtuous life. I will therefore ask if you remind me why you are here.'
Isabella nodded, still not trusting her answer.
'You must speak.'
'I have been sent here...' the words caught in Isabella's throat. She had been sent here because she had been caught, she had been sent here because her fiancée insists he will not marry until she has learnt to be a good and faithful wife. Isabella dreaded the prospect of becoming someone she didn't want to be, like a piece of clay to be moulded into whatever form her future husband wished. But, sitting on the leather footstool she knew she had little choice but to comply. 'I have been sent here to learn,' Isabella eventually said quietly.
'Good, now we can begin your education,' the mistress pulled at a chord next to the fireplace. A few minutes later, a young man entered the room, wearing a long white chemise reaching just above his knees. He walked towards Miss Frobisher. Isabella noted that underneath the chemise he wore little else, his strong muscular legs were bare, and a hint of what lay at the top of his legs occasionally, tantalisingly, were revealed. He knelt before the Mistress and taking her hand, kissed it.
'You are here to be trained in the virtues a woman should possess,' Miss Frobisher said, turning to Isabella. 'Your diary is a sad indictment of a life lived for your own pleasure and without any thought for others, will be used to guide your education. Your fiancée requires you to receive instruction in virtue, however for each virtue there is a corresponding sin. There are several entries in your diary detailing how you took pleasure from servants and stable-hands, of how you have feasted on their eagerness. The sin of gluttony can only be cleansed by learning temperance. You will pleasure this man, one of my personal servants, and he will report to me if you have been greedy, showing only abandonment for your own pleasure, or have been temperate, and have shown self-control.'
'I most certainly will not,' Isabella said jumping up.