Page 5 of From Unwanted to Duchess
“But you are not looking to marry,” Franklin said.
“That is why you are my valet and among my dearest companions, Franklin. You understand. But as things stand with Somerset Trust, I must indulge him in this foolishness. So, we will get ready here, then stop at my godmother’s house, and you will unload my trunks while I press on. There will be two carriages, of course. A blessing that the carriage I left here did not burn down.”
With that, he nodded for his valet to follow him up the stairs.
Here was to hoping that his suit did not stink as badly as the
rest of the house. Although if it kept the vultures at the Farside ball away, perhaps that would not be the worst thing.
Frances woke up in the huge bed with a breathtaking view of a church adjacent to her chamber. Just like every morning since arriving here a week ago, she felt decidedly ill at ease, quite the fish out of water. This magnificent, beautiful home still didn’t feel like hers, even though her aunt made it clear that it was.
She swung her legs out of bed and placed her bare feet on the floor. The hardwood felt nice beneath her feet, smooth, not like the rough wood she was used to at home.
She walked to the door and looked at the long cord that hung beside it. She knew that if she tugged it, a maid would be at her side immediately to help her dress. But she didn’t want to be dressed. She wanted to dress herself.
She walked to the armoire and shook her head. There were so many dresses here. They didn’t all fit because she was shorter than all the Langley girls, and so the dresses were all too long on her.
That was going to be fixed, her aunt had said. In fact, some of them had already been sent away.
She selected one of her own dresses, put it on, pinned her hair up as she always had done, and, after finishing her morning toilette, made her way downstairs for breakfast.
Her aunt was already sitting at the table, biting into a hot cross bun. Frances smiled. She had always loved hot cross buns and had eagerly anticipated Easter every single year so she could eat them.
“There you are,” her aunt said. “I see you’ve finally slept in.”
Frances nodded. For the first few days, she had woken up at five o’clock every morning because that was what she was used to. But her body was finally allowing itself to sleep a little later.
A maid appeared at her side and poured a cup of tea.
Back home, it was Frances who poured tea. Another thing she had to get used to.
She picked a lump of sugar while her aunt looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “You can take more than one lump if you like.”
Frances took a second one.
“I know you were raised to be frugal, but there is no need now. I might not be the richest woman in London, but I do very well for myself.”
Frances nodded again. She was feeling more at her ease here now, settling in tolerably well.
It was nice not to have to look around every corner in fear that her half-sister was trying to find ways of getting her into trouble. She didn’t have to watch her every step because her stepmother was ready to admonish her for every little misstep. And she didn’t have to worry about impressing her father, a futile effort if ever there was one.
She was free, finally free.
And Aunt Eugenia had filled their days with stories of her mother, something that she had never thought possible, something that had filled her heart with so much joy she thought it might burst.
The newspaper rustled beside her as her aunt placed it down.
“Now, there’s something we must talk about. I told you that I wanted you to enter Society, to make your debut.”
“Yes, Aunt Eugenia.”
Frances still couldn’t quite imagine how her aunt thought this was going to go. She, essentially a gentleman’s daughter who was little more than a farmer, moving amongst high society? She, a girl with no dowry?
“Well, the time has come. Lady Farside is hosting a ball tonight, and you will attend.”
It was not a question, but a statement.
“I do not know that I am ready,” she said. She had finally confessed to her aunt that she had no accomplishments to show for herself. “I don’t know how to?—”
