Page 93 of From Unwanted to Duchess
CHAPTER 30
Frances
“Icannot understand how you let this happen,” Isabella said and shook her head. “You were a duchess. A duchess! How many girls from Bedfordshire can say that they have gone from being a gentleman’s daughter to being a duchess? You had it, and you let it go. You threw it away. You couldn’t keep him happy.”
She circled Frances like a predator. “Do you know how many mothers would have given anything for their daughters to have such an opportunity? And you—you squandered it all.”
She turned to her husband.
“I warned you, Roland. I told him you were not suited for such an elevated position. That you lacked the grace, the deportment, the proper understanding of what it means to be a woman ofrank. But did you listen? No. And now look at you. Cast off. Discarded. A cautionary tale.”
Tears were already streaming down Frances’s face, but they were not sad tears. They were angry tears.
She had been unprepared to see Isabella, having expected her father to come along. But of course, she should have known that no only would he bring her, they’d come early so they could catch her without Aunt Eugenia.
At least they had not brought Elizabeth with them.
“I would’ve been perfectly happy to remain in Bedfordshire on my own. I would’ve found a husband, lived a quiet life, but no. You had to send me to London because you wanted to dedicate all your resources to Elizabeth.”
“And she has done very well with them,” Isabella sneered. “She is now accomplished on the pianoforte. She dances beautifully, and she has started learning the harp.”
“The harp?” Frances frowned. “How could you afford a harp? I asked you to let me learn the flute years ago, and you said we couldn’t afford it, but now you can afford a harp?”
“You should not be so envious of your sister,” Isabella chided. “It does not become you. You should be happy for her. At least now she will be able to find herself a good husband, one who will not leave her at the drop of a hat. What did you do, anyhow?”
“I did nothing,” Frances said. “I did nothing wrong. Not everything is always my fault. I know that you have never liked me because I remind you that Father had a life before you, but I will not stand for you talking down to me anymore. And I will not go back to Bedfordshire with you.” The last part was directed at her father.
“Do not be foolish. Of course you will,” he said. “You cannot remain in London unmarried.”
“You had no problem with me remaining unmarried in London when I was a companion to Aunt Eugenia. You were perfectly happy to leave me here. You did not care if I was married or not married or entirely on my own, flaunting myself in Saint Giles.”
“Roland, you cannot allow her to talk to you like this,” Isabella protested.
“Indeed. I will not have you speak to me in such a manner, Frances, and you will be coming back with me. You will be quite comfortable back in Bedfordshire. I will manage the funds you have received from your husband.”
“That is what this is all about,” Frances scoffed. “You heard that we are getting an annulment, but that he is giving me money so I can look after myself, and you want to take everything so you can spend it on the woman who made my mother’s life miserable and her daughter.”
“Your sister,” Isabella corrected.
“Elizabeth is no more my sister than you are my mother. You are two strangers who have made my life a misery, and I will not have it anymore.”
“Well, young lady,” her father said, “it sounds as though you have quite the idea of what life is going to be like going forward. Well, let me tell you—you are unmarried, and while you may have certain rights, you are still my daughter living under my roof. Any money that comes to you, I will manage on your behalf, as is my duty as your father. The law gives me considerable influence over your affairs.”
“I do not think you understand the situation,” Frances drawled.
The truth was, she did not fully understand the law either. She knew that unmarried women could own property—her aunt owned a seaside estate and many others. But she also knew that fathers wielded considerable power over their daughters, even adult ones, through social pressure and financial control. Besides, she had no intention of keeping James’s money anyway.
She smirked at her father. “If I had no penny to my name, would you want me to come back to Bedfordshire?”
“Of course. You’re my daughter. I cannot have you living in London all on your own.”
She clicked her tongue. “Well, that is good to know, because let me tell you, I have declined the money. I come with no more money than I had when you sent me away.”
“What?” Isabella sputtered, then she looked at her father. “She cannot mean this. She cannot decline money that is rightfully owed to her by her husband.”
“She may not be able to decline it,” a voice sounded from the hall.
Frances stumbled backward, recognizing it.
