Chapter Nineteen
Over the next few days, Frances saw Nathaniel at mealtimes, and occasionally in the afternoon, particularly if she and Stevens, or whichever member of the staff was with her, were being too loud.
As Stevens had agreed that the house had grown depressing in the past few years, she figured the best way to prove her worth to Nathaniel was to restore Sutton House to the warmth and coziness of his childhood.
She’d conferred with senior staff members, as well as Nathaniel’s sisters, careful not to make any drastic changes, but she spent her days putting back the furniture that had been pushed to the middle of the room and covered with sheets, exchanging old paintings for mirrors to better reflect the light, drawing curtains, opening windows…
She was usually exhausted by the time she changed for dinner, but she also felt more accomplished with this work than any embroidery.
Although she was working diligently to embroider the Sutton crest just right so she could start helping with that as well.
The bulk of the work would be done while they were in the country, mostly restoring paintings and reupholstering furniture.
The paintings would each take at least a fortnight, so while Nathaniel was at the House of Lords, Frances oversaw the removal of all his family portraits.
It was the type of thing Nathaniel probably wouldn’t notice once it was done, but Stevens would, and Frances wanted to make sure everything was properly preserved.
She also took the time to pick flowers from the garden and place them in little bouquets around the house.
She was hoping they, and the open windows, would bring a little sunshine into the bleakness.
Her parents had been hinting at a visit while Iris was still in town, as they’d never been inside Sutton House.
Frances didn’t want them arriving unexpectedly at Lark Estate, where they were not welcome, so she invited them to dinner the night before their journey to the country.
Frances was torn between hoping her marriage and status would earn her their love, to show them how well settled she was that she no longer needed it, and never wanting to see them again.
With Sarah’s help, she changed dresses three times, the first being too fancy so it looked like she was showing off, the second not fancy enough, while the third Sarah said commanded respect, but didn’t demand it. Which was apparently a good thing.
Frances was gently shooed from the kitchen by Mrs. Mulberry, who did not care about her nerves—or perhaps did not yet understand that after gardens, kitchens were her next happy place. So, Frances ended up in the sitting room, with her hands gripped in her lap, waiting.
Nathaniel arrived a mere ten minutes before Frances’ parents were due.
“My apologies, Lord Ramsay refused to change his vote, and—”
He’d hurried past Frances to change, even as she assured him it was fine, that her parents weren’t even there yet, but he froze on the second step, eyes glued to what used to be a portrait of his parents and siblings—the last one of the family all together. It was now just a bare wall.
“What happened?” He turned to Frances, forcing himself to be calm.
“I thought I might spruce up the—” she started as he scanned the room for other changes, which he quickly found. Hardly noticeable on their own, but put together…
“Why is there a draft?” he asked, cutting her off.
“I’m airing out—”
“It’s freezing. We’re going to catch our death, and—” He tried to keep his voice even.
“My parents—” she began, but it was barely a whisper.
“I don’t care about your parents, Frances, I care about—”
“Ahem.” Stevens loudly cleared his throat. “The Plimptons’ carriage has arrived,” he informed them with a pointed look at Nathaniel.
“I’ll be back presently,” Nathaniel said through gritted teeth.
Nathaniel went to his chambers and switched jackets, trying to calm himself before greeting the Plimptons.
Not that he cared what Frances’ parents thought of him, given what he thought of them, but there was a strong chance that if he still felt as he did now, Mr. Plimpton would be leaving in a hearse.
Nathaniel preferred to drink in his study, or with company, but there was a bottle in the corner of his chambers that he opened for a generous pour.
Realistically, Frances wouldn’t have been able to move the painting by herself, and no member of the staff would let such a thing be thrown out, so all he had to do was find it and put it back.
The windows were more worrisome. In the country, all the fires were lit, and the house was bursting with people, but Sutton House was all but empty in the early spring.
The windows needed to be bolted shut, with fires in the hearths.
He could not have wind howling through open windows as if they were outside.
He’d explain it to Frances. After her parents left.
He was still furious, but he couldn’t leave Frances alone with them any longer, so he went down and found Mr. and Mrs. Plimpton along with Iris and her husband in the sitting room with Frances.
“And I said to her, my sister will never have to worry about things like that. She’ll be an old maid, and then we can fire the governess, and the children can torment Aunt Franny instead.”
“Apologies, Parliament ran late.” Nathaniel interrupted what he felt certain was an anecdote to torment ‘Aunt Franny’ and took his seat on the couch with Frances.
He’d intended to sit on the opposite end, but Iris and Mrs. Plimpton exchanged a knowing look that made him wish he was at his pugilism club.
Not that he would ever touch a woman, but his anger certainly needed an outlet.
“We hardly noticed.” Iris’ smile to her husband made Nathaniel’s stomach churn, but he plastered a smile on his own face and took Frances’ hand. She gave him a grateful smile that reminded him to take a breath and relax.
“How was the honeymoon?” Iris asked, completely unaware.
“Wonderful,” Frances lied without missing a beat.
“Must be nice, discovering everything about each other after such a short courtship.”
There was something pointed in the way Iris said it, that he might have ignored, if it weren’t for the way Frances paled.
“We have a lifetime to discover each other,” Nathaniel dismissed whatever Iris wanted to upset him with.
He could ask Frances once they were alone, without people who seemed to delight in her discomfort.
“Both my parents and grandparents had almost nonexistent courtships, and to this day, I have never encountered couples more in love than the two of them.”
“Except the two of you, of course?” Mr. Plimpton smiled.
“Only time will tell.” Nathaniel smiled back, but it would be a lot easier to rebuff their comments if he didn’t have to be polite, and hadn’t promised Frances he wouldn’t lie.
He made a mental note to amend her request so she was the only one he couldn’t lie to.
Otherwise, he was bound to say a great many things they would both regret, mostly to her family.
“My lord,” Stevens cut in, though judging by his tone, perhaps not for the first time. “Dinner is served.”
At Nathaniel’s insistence, they made their way to the dining room according to rank, probably because of her father’s reaction to Grace going first at Wiltshire Manor, but making her father enter after both his now-titled daughters wasn’t going to win her husband any points.
The table was set so her father and brother-in-law got the heads of the table, while Nathaniel sat in the middle, across from her.
Someone probably assumed she’d be comfortable between her mother and sister, but even though she’d upset him earlier, Frances felt safer with Nathaniel.
Especially when he held her hand as he had in the sitting room.
She knew it was for her family’s benefit, but she’d felt the warmth from her fingers straight to her chest.
The soup was beyond reproach, though her mother mentioned that a broth would have been better than a potage.
The main course was also delicious, but Iris hinted that lamb was more suitable for such an evening than a roast. She was used to the slights, to the backhanded compliments and outright criticisms of everything she did or said, but it appeared Nathaniel wasn’t.
Or maybe her family was no longer disguising their barbs, since the marriage was now official and Nathaniel was stuck with her.
His face was polite and pleasant, but the grip on his knife was getting worrisome.
“Never thought I would see Franny married, not without thrice the dowry.”
Her father was drunk. He normally exhibited at least a modicum of restraint.
“If you would kindly cease the underhanded insults to Frances,” Nathaniel said sharply. It meant the world that he was defending her, but she’d heard much worse.
“She’s still my daughter. I’ll treat the chit as I please.”
“That is my wife you are talking about,” Nathaniel nearly growled. “The Countess of Lark.”
“You don’t have to pretend you care with me, my lord,” Papa said sarcastically. “I would never say such a thing outside of family. You’ll understand when you have a daughter.”
Nathaniel dropped his knife and rose to his full height.
“If ever I have a daughter, I will raise her nothing like you have yours. She would be loved and cared for as a part of my heart, not a broodmare of opportunity. I would never sell her to the highest bidder, and she would not leave my home unless she’d fallen in love with a man worthy of her.”
Her father was silenced, a vein pulsing in his forehead, as his entire face went red, probably weighing his odds, while Iris was entirely unaffected by Nathaniel’s contained rage.
“Is that to say you don’t consider yourself worthy of our dear Franny? What demons are in your closet, Lord Lark?”
Frances had had enough and stood abruptly. “Mama, Papa, I am terribly sorry, but I fear a most painful megrim has taken over me, and I must lie down. Perhaps we can arrange something upon our return from the country?”
“Of course,” her father agreed, but his gaze was entirely on Nathaniel, who was clearly trying to stop himself from strangling someone.
“I will see you out,” Nathaniel muttered.
Seeing the Plimptons out had less to do with politeness and more with making sure they were gone. He finished his glass of brandy on the stairs and lamented that he hadn’t the foresight to bring the bottle.
“My lord?”
Frances’ voice was timid, but he couldn’t bear to face her.
“Go to bed, Frances.”
He was surprised by how calm his voice sounded, given the storm raging inside him.
“Nathaniel,” she tried, and sat beside him on the steps, one above so she could put her hand on his shoulder.
“I should be comforting you,” he argued after a deep breath.
“I’m used to it.” She sounded resigned, like it truly didn’t bother her anymore, and that broke his heart.
“They should never…you shouldn’t be—”
“I’m sure he has learnt his lesson. He wouldn’t dare risk losing your influence, especially not with Daisy unwed.”
“This was never about me, Frances. I apologize that my first defense was that you are my wife, because no one should ever have spoken of you like that, whether or not you belong to anyone.”
“I’m a woman, my lord. I belonged to him, now I belong to you. Therein lies my value. Certain people simply treat their possessions better than others.”
“You are mine,” Nathaniel agreed, placing his hand on top of hers. “My wife, my duty, mine to protect, to care for, to make happy. You are my partner, but you are not my possession.”
Frances paused and looked away from him. She tried to remove her hand, but he held on.
“The portrait is being restored,” she said, making him feel even worse. “As are the others. They should be back in place by the time we return, but I can get them back as they were in the morning, if it still upsets you.”
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I’m just…I’ve been used to things a certain way. Not that it justifies the way I acted—”
“I assume the prospect of an evening with my family didn’t help.”
He winced.
“I’ll get better,” he promised.
“So will they, once Iris is returned home. They encourage the worst in each other.”
“I would never presume to tell you how to feel, but we—all the Suttons and Wiltshires—but me especially, are also your family now.”
“Thank you, Nathaniel.”
“I always worried that Rebecca and Grace would end up with men who didn’t deserve them. I never once considered…” Whether he himself was worthy.
“You wouldn’t let that happen,” Frances assured him.
“Not while I’m breathing,” he agreed. “Thank God, I’ll never perpetuate such behaviors.”
It was her turn to wince, but she recovered so quickly he might have imagined it. This time, he let her pull away, and was shocked by how much he missed her warmth.
“Does that mean I can continue with my plans for Sutton House once we return?”
“I trust you implicitly,” he assured her, surprised that he truly meant it, contrary to what his earlier reaction had implied. “Why do you care so much? Not that…you can redecorate as you please, but Sarah said you were stripping the curtains yourself.”
“I don’t wish to redecorate, I merely I wanted to brighten up the place a little bit. Make it more like the home it used to be. And I see you look up to that painting every time you walk by, so I figured it should be properly cared for.”
“My behavior tonight was unacceptable. Even if I was upset, you don’t deserve my anger.”
She looked at him like it was fine, as she was used to it with her parents. He’d never been so disgusted with himself.
“You never have to earn your place here, Frances. You belong.”