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 of rank. 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.
No. No, he couldn’t be here. Not now. Not when she was already raw and bleeding from Isabella’s words, from her father’s indifference, from the humiliation of having her failures laid bare.
She turned, and there he was.
“But I can choose not to give her anything.”
James stepped into the room, and for a moment, their eyes met. Her blood ran cold and hot at the same time. Her lips parted.
He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, his cravat slightly askew—something she had never seen before. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched at his sides. But his eyes… his eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to embrace him or tell him to leave. To run to him or run away from him. She hadn’t seen him since he had told her that he did not wish to remain married. Since he had fixed her with that cold look and sent her away like she was nothing.
And now here he was, standing in Aunt Eugenia’s drawing room, looking at her as though she were everything.
Why is he here?
Then she spotted Aunt Eugenia behind him and understood. Of course, her wonderful aunt had to meddle.
“Your Grace,” her father bit out, seeming displeased with seeing him.
“Mr. Langley,” James greeted. “I have heard that you have come to take Frances back to Bedfordshire with you. Is that indeed your intention?”
“It is, now that you have rejected her,” her father said. “But what is this talk of you not giving her anything? There are legal documents in place. She was promised a trust and property.”
“Upon our marriage, yes,” James said. “But we will no longer be married, and we will not be divorced either. We are having the marriage annulled, and it will be as if it never happened in the first place. An annulment voids the marriage contract from the beginning, which means the marriage settlement is no longer valid. There is no marriage, therefore there is no settlement. I do not have to give Frances a single shilling, and she has no intention of accepting anything anyway. I am not fond of wasted transactions, so no money will exchange hands.”
Isabella walked up to her father and grabbed him by the arm. “Do something, Roland! Do something!”
Her father looked from her to James and then at Aunt Eugenia. “Eugenia, this is your doing, isn’t it? You have put ideas into their heads, haven’t you? You always were a conniving old woman.”
“Oh, it is so refreshing to hear a gentleman speak his mind.” Aunt Eugenia’s lips curled into a slow smile. “There is almost too much pretense and false politeness in Society.”
“You are still coming back with me, Frances,” her father barked.
“Why?” Isabella hissed.
Frances almost burst into laughter.
“Yes, Father,” she said. “Why? You have no use for me. I am a rejected duchess. Who will have me?”
“I—” Her father broke off, his face softening. “You are my daughter. You need protection.”
“You never protected me before, and you never protected me from her.”
“I beg your pardon!” Isabella exclaimed. “I have been like a mother to you. Why would you need protection from me?” She looked at James and Aunt Eugenia, and it was clear that what she had said was for their benefit, not for anybody else’s.
“You have made me feel second-best ever since you married my father because you hated that I came from my mother. Do not deny it. You always preferred your own daughter over me. She always receives the very best of everything, while I had to content myself with scraps.”
“Well said,” Aunt Eugenia murmured.
“You sent me to London not because you cared for my prospects, but because you wanted me gone. Out of sight, out of mind, so that all your attention, all your resources, could go to your precious daughter.”
Frances rounded on her father. “And you did nothing about it. Not once. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. So no, I am not coming back with you. I am not taking James’s money. I will make my own way. I will remain as Aunt Eugenia’s companion for as long as she will have me.”
“Oh, that would be a very long time.” Aunt Eugenia placed an arm around her.
Frances had never been as happy to have her aunt at her side as she was at that moment.
“I cannot believe this,” Isabella huffed. “Such an impertinent girl, speaking to us in such a manner. Come, Roland. We are leaving.”
She stormed to the front door, the noise from the street already drifting inside. But her father remained where he stood.
“I do love you,” he murmured. “This wasn’t all about the money.”
“Not for you, perhaps,” Frances replied.
“No, not for me,” he said, sounding miserable.
He took a step toward her, then stopped, as though unsure if he was welcome.
“I know I have not been the father you deserve. I know I should have protected you more from… from certain influences in our household. I was weak. I chose the easy path, and you paid the price for it.”
Frances felt her throat thicken. She had waited her whole life to hear him say that.
“But I do love you, Frances. I always have. You are so much like your mother. She would have been proud of the woman you’ve become. Standing up for yourself. Making your own way.”
Her father looked at her with such sadness that she almost gave in. Almost.
“Keep in touch,” he said quietly, “so I know how you are doing.”
She nodded once, and he turned to walk away.
When he had made it to the door, she called after him, “Father?”
“Yes?” He gave her a hopeful smile, as though he expected her to change her mind.
“Is someone looking after my mother’s grave?”
“Yes,” he said, faltering again. “The vicar.”
“Good,” she replied. “I was hoping he would.”
With that, her father left, and she knew that it would be a very long time before she saw him again.
When the three of them were alone, James took a few steps closer before stopping.
“You were brave,” he praised. “You stood up to him. I wish I could’ve done the same with my father.”
“You did. That is why you’ve been miserable for all these years. Because you stood up for yourself. Yet you commend me for doing the same. You think I am brave for speaking the truth, but when you did the same thing, you condemned yourself to eternal self-loathing.”
He looked down at his feet. “I know. I have been wrong. I have wronged you. I have spent the last week and a half in hell, Frances. Sitting in that empty house, surrounded by reminders of you.”
He took a step closer, and she saw that his hands were shaking.
“Gideon came to see me. He told me I was a coward. And he was right. I have been hiding behind my fear for ten years, telling myself it was for the best, that I was protecting myself and everyone around me. But all I was doing was ensuring that I would be alone and miserable for the rest of my life.”
His voice cracked. “And then you came along and changed everything. You made me want more. You made me want to be more. You challenged me and stood up to me and showed me kindness I didn’t deserve. And it terrified me. So I did what I always do—I pushed you away before you could leave me.”
He looked up at her, and she saw tears in his eyes.
“I have thought a lot about the things I said, and I understand now that I am throwing away something precious. I am throwing you away, and it is criminal of me. I adore you. I truly do. I came here to protect you from your father, but I could see that you no longer need that. But I hope that you will still find it in you to forgive me, to try again.”
Again? What was he saying? He didn’t want an annulment?
Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought everyone in the room could hear it.
This was what she had wanted. What she had prayed for. For him to realize that he loved her, to come after her, to fight for her.
But standing here now, looking at him, she felt… numb.
She had spent the last week and a half crying. Grieving. Trying to piece together the shattered fragments of her heart. She had barely eaten. Barely slept. Marianne had sat with her for hours while she wept into her pillow, wondering what she had done wrong, how she could have made him love her.
And now he was here, saying all the right things, looking at her with those eyes full of regret and longing.
But she was tired. Bone-deep tired.
She had just stood up to her father and stepmother and declared her independence. She had just found the strength to say that she would make her own way.
And now James was asking her to what? Forgive him? Trust him again? Give him her heart, when he had already proven he would throw it away the moment he got scared?
She should have been happy. She had yearned for nothing more than for him to come to his senses, but she had to admit that in this very moment, his words did not touch her. In fact, she longed for nothing more than to be left alone.
“I do not wish to see you right now.”
“Frances,” Aunt Eugenia interjected, a warning in her voice. “He has come to his senses. Surely you will not reject him now.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and how you’ve stood by me, but you must understand—I am not a plaything to be picked up and put away when it suits you. I’ve already told you this, James,” Frances continued nonetheless.
“So you will not take me back?” he asked, his voice hollow.
“I cannot,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
With that, she turned and left them both standing in the drawing room, pale-faced and stunned, as though lightning had struck directly into the center of the room.