CHAPTER 5
Frances
“Hurry up, Frances!” Aunt Eugenia called from downstairs.
Frances took a deep breath and glanced at the mirror one more time.
She was dressed in a pomona green gown that looked lovely against her hair. Clara, her new maid, had applied a layer of crushed white pearl powder again and done up her face.
She didn’t feel like herself, but she knew she couldn’t decline.
“You look lovely,” Clara complimented.
“Thank you, although I do wish I didn’t have to go. The idea of sitting through a play with the Duke of Somerset is daunting.”
Clara chuckled. “He is really not a terrible man. A little closed off and reserved, but generally a decent fellow.”
“Are you not upset that he interrupted our lesson?” Frances asked.
“No, I was more mortified that he found out that I do not know how to read. The ton already looks down on my kind.”
“Your kind is my kind,” Frances assured, not liking that the maid spoke as though they were not the same. “I am of common birth as well.”
“But you are to be elevated. That’s more than most of us can hope for.”
Frances paused. She hadn’t been terribly grateful to her aunt for her attempts to match her up with somebody. Mostly because that wasn’t how she had imagined her life. Still, hearing it from Clara, she realized that she had been ungrateful.
“I just do not care for him, that is all,” she said. “He acts all high and mighty, as though he is better than us.”
“That is how his kind is raised,” Clara said gently. “He has always been polite to the servants, as far as I know, which is not something that can be said for every nobleman.”
“Indeed,” Frances acknowledged. “Have you had bad experiences?”
“Not personally, but I know of several others who have. The footman, Michael, has told us the most horrid stories about his prior employment. Being yelled at, being blamed for things his employer did wrong, and so on.”
“Who was his previous employer?” Frances asked.
“The late Earl of Lowey. He was not a pleasant man to work for. Most of the servants who work here used to work for him. I have always worked for Lady Eugenia, and it has always been a pleasure, but the same cannot be said for the others.”
“I see,” she murmured. “I had heard some terrible things about him. I know he attempted to marry one of my cousins off to an elderly duke.”
“He did, because he was terrible with his money and sought a rich husband for her. And the richest are often the oldest. Poor Lady Evelyn. I mean, poor Duchess. She was so fortunate to find love with her current husband. All of your cousins were.”
“They seem like kind girls,” Frances said.
“They are. None of them expected to make good matches. It wasn’t something they were aiming for, and I think they have all maintained their individuality. They all have their own causes, too.”
“They do?”
Frances had not seen her cousins since the ball, though they had struck her as quite impressive and kind, especially Marianne, who was closest to her in age.
“Oh yes. Lady Evelyn, for example.” Clara paused, shaking her head as if chiding herself. “I must stop calling her that.”
“No, please do not. Whenever you say the Duchess of Sinclair or the Marchioness of Ravenscar, I do not know which you are talking about. When it is just the two of us, please use their first names,” Frances begged. She had a difficult time memorizing people’s titles as it was.
“Very well. Lady Evelyn started a club for women. They are doing good work, like helping the climbing boys, and they have other ventures as well. As for Lady Charlotte, she has worked most diligently to open schools for children, to teach them to read and write—something I wish I had. And Lady Marianne has set out to help women who find themselves in unfortunate situations. You know the sort. When a young ladies believes herself in love only to find the gentleman less than willing to step up to his obligations when…” She said nothing further.
Frances nodded. She might be young, but she was not naïve. Her cousins truly sounded impressive. Compared to them, who was she? It was no wonder the Duke of Somerset looked down on her.
