But, her mother kept a dark secret, from both Isabella and her husband.  It was inevitable that he would find out, but no one could have predicted the Baron's reaction.

One night, at precisely midnight, Isabella was yanked from her bed.  Thinking it a murderer or thief, Isabella fought and screamed until she realized that it was her Father.  Confused, but docile in her beloved Father's grip, Isabella cooperated as he allowed her to pull on a robe over her white undershirt.  He then took her arm in a firm grip and led her down the halls of their home into a sitting room where a man was kneeling on the floor, bound and gagged, and bleeding from a head wound.  When the mans eyes landed on her, Isabella froze.  The green eyes, so familiar, warmed as if he were seeing a loved one.  Pulled from her daze by her Father, she was led further into the light, her Father's face close to hers, seemingly examining her features.  That's when Isabella noticed her Mother in the shadowed corner, sniffling.  She called to her Mother, but the woman said nothing, looking from her husband to the green-eyed man on the floor.

Her Father began to swear in Old Spanish, causing them all to flinch away from him.  What she caught, through her mother's sniffling and her Father's ranting, was that he wanted them banished from his life.  Thinking that he was speaking of her Mother, Isabella pleaded and cried to him not to make her go even as the transgression that had angered him so eluded her young mind.  Then he turned hollow, sorrowful eyes on Isabella.  Father and child stared at each other for so long, until he turned away from her and left the room.

That morning Isabella watched in near hysterical tears as her belongings, along with her Mother's, were packed and loaded into a carriage.  A maid took the child's hand and led her out of the house and into the vehicle.  Loud cries rent the air as Isabella continued to plead and call to her Father, to no avail.

The trip took weeks, and by the time they arrived in France, Isabella had dropped into silence, the cause of her banishment still unknown to her.  Her mother led her through the unfamiliar streets until they reached a large home.  The owner was Marie Priscus, an apparently old friend of Isabella's mother.  Isabella was shown to a lavish room while Marie led her Mother away, talking quietly, Lady Priscus casting soft, sympathetic glances in Isabella's direction. Isabella slept for the rest of the day, and when she woke that night, her Mother was gone, and she was left in Lady Priscus' care.

For years, Isabella was ignorant as to why she was cast out, and suffered in silence at the rejection of her Father.  Thinking, as any child would, that the fault lay with her, Isabella's life was consumed with making herself perfect and pleasing, in and out of public.  Nicknamed the 'china doll' amongst Marie's friends and the wealthy of France, Isabella could always be seen acting as hostess at one of Marie's balls, playing her haunting melodies on the piano or cello, or at Marie's side listening and learning intensely.

Marie, unable to bear the perfect façade that was used to cover up the hurt and self-blame her young ward was feeling, offered one night to tell Isabella the truth of why her Father banished her from his home and life. Isabella refused the offer.  The truth frightened her more than anything did.

Five years later, Isabella, now a lady in her own right and counted as one of Marie Priscus' daughters, finally found the courage to travel to Spain and visit her Father.  When she arrived, she found only heartbreak.  Her name had been stricken from all records; it was as if she had never existed.  Her Father recognized her, she was certain, but he continued to mumble 'you are not my daughter' over and over until Isabella left her childhood home, near tears.

She returned to Marie, and finally asked her to tell her the truth, though Marie suspected she already knew.

She was a bastard, a product of an affair that her Mother engaged in with the green-eyed man, who was one of traders that frequently made their way through Spain.  Isabella accepted the news gracefully, showing no outward signs of her grief.

Her sorrow overwhelmed her, and Marie, thinking to bring her out of a world that brought her so much pain, embraced Isabella into a totally new existence. She became Kindred.

Always having been a quick study, Isabella learned all she needed to survive the night, but she was still reluctant to leave Marie's side.

She did, eventually, and traveled.  She encountered very few vampires, preferring to avoid them in order to keep her own company.  She's hardly a social butterfly, unless she has to be.  Her morals and the movements she makes are based in necessity.  In all the years that have passed, in all the things she has experienced, the perfect façade Isabella built so many years ago has yet to be dropped.  In fact, it has been strengthened, hiding behind it all a young girl's fear of hurting and being hurt.

Her features are forever locked in the angelic face of a 17 year-old Spanish Princess, the innocence she once held remaining still upon her cool features.  Isabella's eyes are the deepest green (inherited from her Father), her hair a dark charcoal with streaks of mocha-colored strands threading through it.  She moves with learned, practiced, and perfected grace.  Ever the polite lady, she holds true to her manners, is as charming as any lady is, and as poised and elegant in her speech as Marie Priscus herself.