Chapter 5 The End of Illusions

William’s POV

I stiffened. Guest? She had never called me that before. I was her husband, lord of this estate. And now I was being dismissed like a visiting stranger. For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Rage surged in my veins. She wouldn’t even argue with me—just brushed me off as if I no longer mattered at all.

Emma stepped forward, and Isabella’s eyes slid past me as if I were a shadow on the wall, unworthy of notice. It was more insulting than any shouted accusation could have been. I wanted to say something that would force a reaction from her. But she’d disarmed me by refusing to engage at all. My threats, my offers—they’d struck nothing but empty air.

I turned sharply on my heel and walked out, pushing past Emma without a word. Outside, I paused to catch my breath. The afternoon sunlight fell warmly on the manicured lawns, the quiet paths Isabella once managed so diligently. Now it felt like enemy territory.

Isabella’s POV

After William left, Emma sniffled and tried to keep her voice steady. “My lady, everything is so unfair. You’re always taking care of everyone, and yet they... they treat you like this. Aren’t you upset?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Of course I’m upset. But crying about it won’t change a thing. We have to keep living, and I have to figure out a way to make our lives better. Montfort women aren’t weak. Trust me on that.”

Emma’s tears came faster. She wiped them with her sleeve, her lips trembling. “But you’ve done so much for the people here in Beauchamp Estate, and they still look down on you. It isn’t right.”

I offered her a small, bitter smile. “In their eyes, I’m nothing but an extra. I only matter because of the property I brought with me. Without that, I’d be nobody to them.”

She let out another sob, but I shook my head and held her hands. “Emma, please. Don’t cry. We both know life has to go on, and I can’t fall apart just because of their coldness.”

Emma nodded, trying to hold herself together. “My lady... if you do leave one day, are you going to take everyone who came with you? People like Catherine and Anne, and the rest of us?”

“Of course I will,” I said firmly. “William Beauchamp would never treat them kindly if I were gone. It’s safer for them to leave with me.”

I remembered the day I arrived here with all those trusted people my mother had sent. This was supposed to be my new life, and I’d thought I could manage the estate while Lady Margaret Beauchamp—William’s mother—recovered from her illness. I’d been using my own funds to pay for her expensive treatments. And for a while, I almost believed I could keep things running smoothly.

But now, the entire house seemed to be turning against me—pawning off my generosity as if it were something they were entitled to from the start. They never cared about me; they only cared about the gold I brought.

The next morning, I went to check on Margaret Beauchamp again. Father Benedict was there, as usual, but the air felt tense. Margaret Beauchamp actually looked pleased to see me, like she assumed I’d suddenly found it in my heart to accept everything they’d planned.

She waved me over with a thin smile. “I’m so glad you’re here, Isabella. I was sure you’d come around. Beatrice Blackwood will be visiting shortly. You two should meet. After all, you’ll be like sisters soon enough.”

My chest felt tight, but I said nothing. I waited for Father Benedict to finish with his examination. Then I quietly offered to walk him out.

We strolled through the corridor, each step echoing off the high stone walls. Father Benedict cast me a long, pitying look. “Child, you’ve done more than enough for these people. They don’t deserve it. I won’t be coming here anymore, not if it’s only your kindness tying me to this place.”

I took a moment to steady my voice. “I understand. Honestly, I was already thinking about ending this marriage. I see no point in staying.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Now that sounds like the kind of decisiveness the Montforts are known for. You have a good head on your shoulders. Don’t waste any more time or money on them.”

We exchanged a few more words, and then I returned to my chamber, where I tried to refocus on my work. I had the monthly account books spread across a table. I was halfway through adding up expenses when I heard footsteps outside. By the time I looked up, William Beauchamp and Beatrice Blackwood had already entered the room. They were holding hands—fingers locked together so tightly it was like they wanted to flaunt their unity right in my face.

I gave Emma a nod, and she silently excused herself, leaving me alone with the two of them. I cleared my throat. “Please, have a seat,” I said curtly.

Beatrice looked me right in the eye. She didn’t bother with any polite greetings. “I heard you wanted to see me, Isabella,” she said. “So here I am. Let’s get straight to the point: will you or will you not get along with me like a civilized person? I don’t appreciate any more of those pathetic moves you’re trying with the King, acting all heartbroken to get pity.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve left me with any real alternatives?”

She leaned forward, voice sharp. “Don’t play innocent. I know you ran to the King and begged him to revoke my engagement to William. Well, guess what? The King doesn’t buy that act—no one does. So tell me the truth right now or drop the charade.”

I let a hint of anger slip out. “You should watch your words, Beatrice,” I said coolly. “Just because you’ve seen a battlefield or two doesn’t mean everyone else is a fragile damsel pretending to be weak. Not all of us have your kind of bloodlust, but that doesn’t make us cowards, either.”

She froze, surprised by my directness. For a moment, the room felt heavy with tension. Then I turned my gaze to William, who had been watching this exchange in silence.

I took a breath. “William, do you remember what you promised my mother when you came to ask for my hand? You swore you would never take a mistress or another wife. You said I would always be the only one.”

Beatrice cut in with a low chuckle. She glanced up at William. “So you made her that promise, huh? That’s interesting. Guess that makes me the one intruding, doesn’t it?”

William tightened his hold on her hand. He looked exasperated. “Isabella, I meant every word I said back then, but I didn’t understand love. Not until I met Beatrice. She showed me what it means to feel alive, to feel passion. Yes, it’s true—I broke my promise. I realize that. But it’s not like we’re trying to cast you aside. We just want you to keep living here as my wife. You can remain Lady Beauchamp.”

He shot Beatrice a quick look, as though trying to calm her down. “Beatrice and I will be on the battlefield most of the time anyway. If we have a child, you can take care of it. It’ll secure your position and keep everything in the family. No one has to fight about this.”

My heart pounded. It felt as though all the warmth in my body had drained into the floor. “You want me to raise your child?” I repeated softly.

William nodded, as if this was a perfectly logical solution. “Yes, exactly. And if you want children of your own, I’ll... well, I’ll do my duty. But after that—”

His voice faltered. He looked uncomfortable, but he pressed on. “—we don’t have to share a bed again, if you don’t want to.”

I stared at him in disbelief, then shifted my gaze to Beatrice Blackwood. “And you? You’re fine with this arrangement?”