Noticing her interest, Marianne, who had linked their arms, said, “The carriage belongs to my husband. He is out of town with his friends. They are having a hunting party at the country seat.”
“I see,” Frances said, and followed them into the carriage.
The vehicle swayed slightly as they entered, and then it lurched into motion.
For the next fifteen minutes, her cousins chattered away, telling her about their lives, where they lived, their children, and many other things. She sat quietly and listened, overwhelmed by the attention, the noise.
After a while, she felt Marianne’s hand on hers. “I think we are overwhelming her.”
“Oh, I’m afraid we are,” Evelyn agreed. “Sometimes I forget that not everybody is used to the hustle and bustle of town. Bedfordshire must be very quiet.”
“It is,” Frances said. “Well, not in terms of noise, but nothing ever happens there. Most of the people who live on the estate are somehow connected to our family, so we all know each other, butit’s not like we are a big family. There are lots of new people who live on the estate as well, and the town is small.”
“So this must be very exciting for you. Making your bow in London during the Season,” Charlotte said. “Oh, I remember my debut. It was prodigiously exciting. I adored it so very much.”
“I never thought I was going to have a debut,” Frances admitted. “You see, my parents do not have enough money even for a dowry. The idea of finding a gentleman to marry me seemed ludicrous. It still does, to be honest.”
“It might, but trust Aunt Eugenia. She knows what she’s doing. She is a true marvel.” Charlotte smiled.
“And she’s very determined. When she wants to find you a husband, she will, whether you like it or not,” Marianne said with an eye roll.
“She found your husband?” Frances asked.
“Not really,” Marianne replied. “I had my heart set on staying in a convent. Aunt Eugenia thought me quite mad—said I’d end up on the shelf if I wasn’t careful.”
“A convent? Are you religious?”
“I would not say that I am religious, but I believe in God. What I liked about the convent was that it was quiet. I did not like the hustle and bustle. In fact, I do not often attend balls such as this.I am going because of you. I want you to feel comfortable. Back to what I said, Aunt Eugenia did not really find my husband for me. I found him myself, although it was mostly to get a respite from her schemes.” She laughed.
For the rest of the journey, the sisters told Frances how they had each found their husbands. Every story was more convoluted than the next.
Marianne had been whisked out of the convent that she so adored and entered a false marriage with a duke who needed a wife so he would not be matched up with the eager debutantes.
Evelyn had been forced to marry an elderly duke who had died hours after the wedding, only to find herself married to his heir.
And Charlotte’s tale was no less adventurous. Yet, in the end, all three of them seemed happy.
Could it be that such happiness lay in store for her also?
By the time they arrived at Farside House, Frances didn’t feel quite as uncertain about her future.
The carriage came to a stop, and they filed out. After being ushered into the house and being introduced to the hostess, Frances found herself in a large front room.
A chandelier hung above her with at least fifty beeswax candles. Sconces lined the walls, illuminating the space. Eventhe wealthiest among her acquaintances at Bedfordshire would never waste this many candles on a ball.
Chatter drifted out of one of the larger rooms—the ballroom, no doubt. The sound of music filtered through as well, a lively country dance from the sounds of it.
“Come,” Evelyn said, taking her hand. “Let us find you a place to sit where you can observe before we throw you into the fray. We’ll teach you a few steps as well.”
Frances nodded gratefully.
The three sisters led her into the ballroom, and her breath caught. It was enormous, far larger than anything she had ever seen. Ladies in beautiful gowns twirled around the dance floor with gentlemen in dark coats and pristine cravats. The room sparkled with jewels and candlelight, and the air was thick with perfume and the heat of so many bodies.
“There,” Marianne said, pointing to a row of chairs along the wall. “We shall sit there for a moment.”
They sat down, and Frances tried to take it all in without appearing too overwhelmed. The last thing she wanted was to look like a moonling, or worse, become a wallflower for the entire evening. Her cousins pointed out various members of the ton, explaining who was who, which families were most influential, and which gentlemen were considered eligible.
“That one there,” Charlotte said, gesturing discreetly toward a handsome man with dark hair, “is Lord Chester. Very wealthy, but quite the rake—a true libertine. I would avoid him.”
