Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The noise and bright colors were a bombardment to Dominic’s hermit-like inclinations, his eardrums shivering, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, alert to a danger that did not exist. Even when he was younger, he had never favored busy places and excessive company, always quiet, always solitary, shaped by his father.
“Nine pins!” Harriet shrieked, Dominic’s eye twitching at the shrill sound. “Frances, come and play!”
His daughter seized Frances by the arm and all but dragged her toward the game, the young man in charge grinning in delight as Harriet opened her pin money purse and handed over a farthing.
“Let us do three rounds!” Harriet said gleefully. “Whoever knocks down the most in the least amount of tries, wins.”
Frances chuckled, her hand resting on her hip as she watched Harriet pick up the first ball. “I know the rules, Harriet.”
“Are you any good?” Harriet asked.
“You shall have to find out.”
Almost against his will, Dominic was drawn to the scene, enchanted by the serenity in Frances’ posture, the soft smile on her face, the roses blooming in her cheeks.
Like spotting a rare bird that did not know it was being observed, free and unafraid in its own environment. Preening, chirping, completely at ease.
Harriet rolled the ball with too much vigor, and it went bouncing down the wooden alley, hitting just three of the nine pins. The next ball took out two more, while the last ball knocked out the final four.
“Very well done,” Frances said, as Dominic drew closer.
Harriet puffed her chest. “I am surprised I hit anything at all, when I have not had the opportunity to play in so long.”
The young man overseeing the game diligently restored the nine pins to their previous spots and picked up the balls to hand to Frances. Catherine and Hugo had moved closer, too, watching with the same curiosity.
For a moment, a perfect calm fell across Frances’ face. She crouched a little, eyeing the markings on the wooden alley… and with a sharp intake of breath, she let the ball roll. A measured movement, not too much force, not too little.
Dominic found that he was holding his breath as the ball hurtled toward the pins.
It struck dead center, the ball careening straight through the middle of the diamond formation, and as the pins fell, they knocked down their neighbors.
The last pin, off to the left, wobbled precariously as if it had some fight left in it and was not ready to concede defeat yet, when it, too, surrendered.
There was no cry of victory, no boasting, no great display of satisfaction. Frances just gave a small, pleased nod and handed the unused balls over to an astonished Harriet.
“Seems we have someone who knows what they’re doing,” the steward said with a chuckle, before he rushed to set the pins back up.
“And, to think, I almost suggested a wager,” Harriet said, her eyes alight with fresh admiration for the capable, intriguing woman who had turned up at their door.
Dominic cleared his throat. “I hope that was a jest, Harriet. Respectable ladies do not gamble.”
“All debutantes do,” Harriet protested with a sly smile. “Is that not right, Frances?”
Laughing as if she had forgotten that Dominic was there, Frances gave a reluctant nod.
“One might consider entering society a gamble, though I do not find it nearly as entertaining as this. I would be a much greater success in London if it was all about nine-pins.” She nudged Harriet. “It is your turn again.”
The ladies returned their attention to their game, while Dominic stood there with a frown, feeling as if he had somehow been trounced when he was not even playing.
How is it possible that she has not been a success in society?
It was a question he had asked himself several times throughout the course of Frances’ tenure at Alderwick.
Truly, he could not fathom it, for she was everything he assumed a society lady was supposed to be: witty, capable, demure, full of character, intelligent, generous, kind, and possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered.
His mind returned to the modiste’s shop, and what he had accidentally overheard between Frances and her maid.
Was that the reason? Sacrifice? Had she deliberately avoided the possibility of marriage, even in her debut Season, in order to take care of her sisters?
Was that what her father had commanded, for her to seem to be out in society for appearances’ sake, while still being very much chained to her family?
And, after all that, he did not defend her. Instead, he made her feel like she had no choice but to run away. He did not know it for certain, but it was not hard to guess what had happened.
The gift he had purchased for her began to burn a hole in his pocket. He chewed his lip in consternation, wondering if he ought to just keep it in his pocket indefinitely. It had been foolish to buy her something that she might take as an insult. Foolish to buy her anything at all.
“She is quite something,” Hugo said quietly, as he came to stand at his cousin’s side. “If I were you, I would take a gamble of your own.”
Dominic cast Hugo a grim look. “I do not gamble, as you well know.”
But as he wandered off to inspect the next stall, that gift burned hotter, his hand moving to check it was still there: he had already taken a risk that he would never normally take. Indeed, he had already done many things that he would never normally do, all because of her.
“Higher!” Frances cried, all sense of propriety and dignity vanishing as the swing soared upward. “Push me higher!”
“If you go any higher you shall fly off!” Harriet laughed in reply, as she pushed against the back of the swing with all of her might.
The amusement sat on the very edge of the fair, a short distance from the towering trees that Frances dearly wished to touch with the point of her feet. It felt like she could see all of Bath every time she surged upward, the beauty and the momentum sweeping the air from her lungs.
It had been a very long time since she had sat upon a swing, and these were so very lovely, the wooden chairs carved ornately, the structure anchored deep into the ground.
And when the fair left the city, there would be nothing but the gouges in the earth to show that Frances had ever done this, had ever been there, had ever felt so wonderfully free, as if she really could fly if she wished it.
She did not know how long they had been at the fair, but it had certainly been longer than Dominic’s ordained hour of leniency.
The sky was now vibrant with sunset’s reds and oranges and pinks, the clouds tinged with purples and dusky blues, and if Frances kept her gaze fixed upon it as the swing soared upward, she could imagine she was part of that exquisite display of light and wonder.
“I love this!” she cried out, so overwhelmed with joy that her eyes prickled with happy tears. Bittersweet tears. “I must do this more often!”
Harriet laughed. “You are a bird, Frances!”
It occurred to Frances a moment too late that her ward’s voice was not coming from behind her anymore, but from the side of her. And as firmer hands heaved against the back of the swing, she blinked as she saw Harriet standing there, decidedly not pushing Frances into the air.
The powerful ascent stole the breath from her lungs, a moment of suspension taking all of her troubles away, before the swing curved downward again.
She did not dare to look back to see who was pushing her. She did not have to. There was only one person with the strength to swing her so high, though she could not quite believe that he would involve himself in such larks.
Dominic had not been grumpy, necessarily, while following the ladies and his cousin around the fair, but he had not partaken in the entertainments either.
He had just spectated, a warm smile occasionally quirking his lips that had made her heart flutter, as if he took enjoyment from seeing others enjoying themselves.
Releasing her grip on the ropes and holding out her arms, she closed her eyes and smiled so wide as she sailed upward again.
“Be careful!” Harriet cried from below.
Frances ignored the shout and ignored any fear of judgment or danger, as the wind rippled through her hair and caressed her face.
For an instant, she was flying. A feeling that she would carry with her, to dip into when the days felt too small or too suffocating. A reminder of this fleeting freedom.
After a few more minutes of that wondrous sensation, Dominic’s capable hands stopped pushing. Slowly but surely, the swings lessened in height, and she fluttered back down to earth like a leaf in the autumn… or a cherry blossom at a picnic.
Stepping off the swing, it took Frances’ legs a moment to remember how to walk.
“Steady yourself,” Dominic said, appearing beside her, offering out his arm.
This time, she did not hesitate to take it. “Thank you.”
“I take it you favor the swings?” he asked as he led her to where the others had been standing, but they had already moved on.
Harriet and Hugo were hurrying toward some manner of theatrical, where gaudily dressed acrobats leaped and somersaulted to rapturous applause, while a fire-eater in a dragon costume delighted the crowd with a blast of smoking flames.
Somewhat bashful, Frances nodded. “There was one in the gardens at my father’s country estate.
I would push Lucinda when she was little, though I never got the chance to show Juliet the delight of it.
” She cleared her suddenly tight throat.
“It was my mother who used to push me, though I daresay she did not quite have your strength.”
“You did say you wished to fly higher, and Harriet was huffing and puffing at the exertion,” he replied, his voice soft and enticing, like fairy music heard through the trees. Something you were not supposed to follow, but could not help pursue.
He leaned in slightly. “I fear we must teach her to exercise, or she shall never make it through a dance without wheezing. What is the current opinion in society on ladies who are drenched in sweat after a dance?”
An explosive laugh caught Frances off guard, her hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth.
Dominic reached for that hand and gently pulled it away. “Do not,” he told her with a smile. “I should hate to have to chide you for disobedience.”
She allowed herself to laugh, though his touch had startled some of the air out of her lungs, turning it into a softer chuckle. It was not a habit that would be easily overcome, laughing without hiding it, and one that would have to be remembered when she returned to London.
“I suppose if she can perspire elegantly, it should not be too great a concern,” she said, her heart so full of joy that feared it would feel much too empty once the evening was over.
Dominic nodded. “And how does one perspire elegantly?”
“That is a question for a physician not a tutor,” she replied, smirking.
“Fortunately, dancing does not require too much pushing, unless she should find herself among a gaggle of nasty rivals. Indeed, she will have greater need of pushing strength in the refreshment room, where sneaky mothers and competitors always manage to jostle you and they can never seem to pass by a girl without stepping on her dress. It is the strangest thing.”
A quiet laugh rumbled pleasantly from his chest. “I do not believe there is any more fearsome beast than a society mother.”
“I have often thought that the fighting on the Continent could easily be won if the country just sent its society mothers, particularly those with daughters who have been out for at least three Seasons, for they are already eager for battle and will stop at nothing.” She grinned at the thought, and peered up at him, to find that he was smiling too.
“Promise that their daughters will be given husbands if they are victorious?” he said.
“Exactly!”
He chuckled, the sound so distracting that Frances did not realize that they had wandered off the main path of the fair and had ventured down a quieter trail, through the majestic plane trees and cedars.
A shadowed, peaceful world away from the noise of the carnival.
It appeared that he had not realized either, and she felt no immediate need to point out the mistake.
No one knows me here. They might know my name, but not my face.
For that moment, at least, she would not sacrifice her enjoyment for the sake of not being spotted. Besides, anyone wandering in the same place probably should not have been there either.
In Harriet’s opinion of gambling, this was worth the risk.