Chapter 9 #2
Thalia appreciated that more than Frances could possibly have known, and though a ball was not exactly the sort of place she wished to go with her memory as it was, she found herself softening to the notion.
As long as Henry helped fill in some gaps ahead of time, what could be the harm?
Indeed, who was to say that, in a week’s time, all of her memories would not be back anyway?
“I would not be averse,” Thalia said, meeting Henry’s hard stare with a half-smirk.
“There!” Frances clapped her hands together. “What quarrel can you have, cousin, when your wife is in agreement? If she is well enough, she will come. Of course, you are invited, too, Henry, but I shall not expect you to partake.”
Henry’s expression darkened. “Why would I not partake? If my wife attends, I will be with her.”
“You… you will?” Frances stared at him, so obviously shocked that, for a moment, Thalia wondered if she ought to offer the young woman a chair to sit down before she fainted.
So, we are not even together publicly. The realization surprised Thalia, for even in marriages of conveniences, the husbands and wives put on a performance of union for society.
She had seen the fake smiles and stiff demeanors often enough during her debut Season, couples who tolerated each other at best, loathed one another at worst.
But as she discreetly stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she could imagine him standing with her in a dance, so tall and handsome that he would make a grand partner for any lady.
His athletic figure lent itself to elegance and grace, and she wondered if he was a good dancer. Was she? Or had she forgotten how?
“To ensure no harm befalls her,” Henry replied tightly, no doubt annoyed that Thalia had placed him in such a position.
A small victory.
“Oh, but this is… this is tremendous!” Frances gushed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “I could not have concocted a better outcome if I tried!”
Both Thalia and Henry stared at her, their frowns almost matching.
“What do you mean?” Henry asked, echoing the question that circled in Thalia’s head. Though she, of course, could not be the one to ask, in case it made Frances suspicious again.
Frances’ exuberance dwindled for a somber moment. “I know it is not my place, and I apologize Thalia, but it is high time my cousin knew.”
Knew what? Thalia held her tongue and nodded her permission to the other woman, as curious to hear what she had to say as Henry clearly was.
“Henry, for four years Thalia has been facing the ton alone, fending off those awful gossips by herself,” Frances replied, her hands balling into tight fists.
“I cannot deny that she has done a remarkable job of subduing them and diverting them, but they are tireless, and I have no doubt that your wife—my dear, dear friend—is tired of fighting them singlehandedly.
“If you are finally there to accompany her, to stand with her, to take your place as her husband, her position in society will be so much simpler, so much easier for her,” Frances continued, some of that exuberance returning.
“Heavens, how satisfying it will be to shut those gossips up, once and for all! I shall relish their disappointed faces as I would relish an entire tray of sweetmeats!”
Having decided that she very much liked this woman, Thalia put her hand to her mouth to hide the chuckle that bubbled up. Even she was eager to see the dismay upon the faces of those gossips, and she did not even know who they were; Frances’ giddy vengeance was a contagious thing.
Yet, the restrained merriment did not last long. Thalia’s amnesia made certain of that, as her mind began to whisper: What are they saying about me? What is the nature of their gossip? What has Henry done to make them murmur behind my back? Am I some manner of fool to them?
Her stomach roiled as she thought of the usual reasons for cruel society gossip: husbands brazenly parading their paramours around, husbands taking mistresses indiscreetly, oblivious wives crowing about their marriages while the gossips whispered the truth among the ton.
Thalia’s attention snapped toward her husband, startled to find that he was staring right back at her. Is that it? An indiscretion? Many indiscretions? Was that our arrangement?
Frustration fizzed in her veins that she still could not recall a single thing about the past four years.
“You may consider this an acceptance of that invitation, cousin,” Henry said, his gaze unwavering though he was talking to Frances. “I cannot have the ton besmirching my good name, so consider this a remedy for their inane gossip. I will put an end to it.”
Frances made a strange sound, halfway between a yelp and a cheer. “This is wonderful news indeed! About time, good cousin. Yes, about time!”
Of course you would not think of how it has affected me, Thalia mused, simmering in silence as she held her husband’s gaze. Of course you would only act in your interests. Not mine.
She wondered what her remembering self would make of this. Would that duchess be equally annoyed by Henry’s selfish intervention? Or would her traitorous heart start racing, her tongue too tied up in flustered knots to say a word?
“Now, Frances, you have taken up quite enough of my wife’s time,” Henry said coolly. “She must rest if she is to be well enough for this ball. I suggest you depart. In haste.”
Frances pulled a face. “Do you see why I so hate to be called ‘Frances’?” She glanced at Thalia. “It always makes me feel as if I am in trouble. Nevertheless, I shall go.”
She hurried up to Thalia and took her by the hands, blue eyes alight with that contagious excitement. “And you, my dearest friend, must rest and rest and rest, so you are able to accompany me.”
“I will try,” Thalia promised with a smile, as she squeezed Frances’ hands, feeling innately as if she had done that same thing a hundred times.
Frances dipped her head to kiss Thalia on the cheek and, with another odd yelp of giddiness, the merry blonde woman took off with a flurry of ‘goodbyes.’
Only when the front door of the manor slammed did Thalia exhale, aware that she was all alone with her husband once more.
Still possessing the instinct of a debutante, still nineteen in her mind, she could not shake the sense of impropriety, half-wondering where Mrs. Fisher had gone. Surely, Thalia needed a chaperone for such an… intimate meeting.
After last night, she did not trust herself to be alone with him ever again.