Chapter Twenty-Two
Frances had tried to decline her invitation to Lady Markham’s tea party, having no interest in being paraded around as an interloper without Nathaniel’s protection, especially not when she’d yet to explore most of the grounds at Lark Estate, but social calls were one of her duties as countess, and thankfully, Rebecca had agreed to come with her.
Unfortunately, Rebecca seemed to know everyone, and Frances didn’t know what to do with herself every time they got stopped on their way to the back gardens, where the refreshments were.
Of course, Rebecca introduced her, and everyone gave her their congratulations, but somehow their kindness made her feel worse, especially when they spoke of what a fine man Nathaniel was.
“At least in the country,” one old man had chuckled, before his wife gave him a warning glare. It was intriguing though, how society papers painted him as a heartless seducer, whereas everyone at this party loved him.
Eventually, the girls got separated, so Frances made her way outside. The house was stuffy and held too many new faces, while she could clearly see the colors from the garden through the window.
“Miss Plimpton, I never expected to see you here.” Miss Caulder stopped her before she’d even set foot on the grass.
Frances considered correcting her, as it was possible news of her marriage hadn’t spread to the country yet, but Miss Caulder wasn’t the type to be behind on such things, and was most likely trying to get a reaction from her.
Frances had no interest in insisting upon a title she did not deserve. Especially not to Henrietta Caulder.
Mama was friends with Lady Caulder, so Frances and Henrietta had suffered through several get-togethers over the years, until Lady Caulder died, and the invitations mostly ceased.
When they did come, they were because too many young ladies had cancelled, and Frances was made to feel unwanted every second of it.
By her host, but also by many pointed comments from Mama, wishing Frances could be more like Miss Caulder, who always knew what to say, what to do, and how to look.
“It’s Lady Lark, dear, I’m sure you heard the gossip,” one of her sisters corrected, before Frances recognized her as their hostess.
“Thank you so much for the invitation, Lady Markham.” Frances cursed herself for not paying more attention to who the Caulder women had married.
“We couldn’t very well forget the Suttons now, could we?” she said sweetly.
“There you are.” Frances had never been happier to hear Rebecca’s voice. “Lady Markham, Miss Caulder, a pleasure to see you again.”
Rebecca looped her arms through Frances’, which she had to assume was on purpose, to make a statement.
“Miss Turner.” Lady Markham emphasized both parts of her name; that she was neither a Sutton, nor a lady. “Is Lady Grace not joining us? Or the dowager Countess? I heard she’s been making appearances.”
“Not if she can help it,” Rebecca said good-naturedly. “And Grace is behind on her French, but she sends her apologies and very much wishes she could be here instead.”
“Of course. Next year. Or perhaps we’ll have another fête before the summer ends, depending how the season goes.” Lady Markham winked, with a knowing look to her sister.
“Fingers crossed.” Rebecca smiled before escorting Frances to their table.
“Would Miss Caulder be Grace’s troll?” Frances asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Unfortunately. None of that had anything to do with you,” Rebecca assured her.
“No, Miss Caulder has disliked me for quite some time. I simply hadn’t realized her sister was Lady Markham.”
“It’s a new development, but Lord Markham seems happy.”
“Thank you for being here, though I imagine you’d prefer to hide out with Grace?”
“I would come to support you, but I didn’t have much choice today.
Lord Markham’s son is set to arrive with a group of his former classmates from Cambridge, who are apparently quite eligible.
I have to say, I liked it better when Nathaniel oversaw my prospects.
Lizzie has taken it upon herself to organize my social calendar in precisely the way her mother did for her.
” Rebecca rolled her eyes, but Frances could tell she appreciated having someone fuss over her as a mother would.
“Then again, Nathaniel believes everyone is either a rake, secretly a rake, or pretending to be a rake, so I’m not sure how successful I would have been. ”
“At least you’re dancing,” Frances pointed out. She’d quickly decided that if the rest of the party could be spent alone at the table with Rebecca, she would consider the day a success.
“Of course. And I love dancing. I’m having a very pleasant season, but there’s probably a reason Lizzie took matters into her own hands other than torturing me.”
Like Nathaniel accidentally becoming a newlywed? Frances wondered, but instead, she said, “My mother would say all suitors have potential.”
“They do fill up my dance card, but it’s a temporary solution. They’ll soon realize that for a rake, dancing with the likes of me makes them seem available. Like they’re looking for a bride.”
“Aren’t they?” Frances inquired.
“None of the ones I’ve danced with,” Rebecca answered. “Maybe one, but definitely not in me. Perhaps it was easier for them to say they weren’t looking than to admit they weren’t interested in the woman dancing with them.”
“Easier, perhaps, but the truth is always preferable,” Frances insisted. As much as it pained her, she appreciated knowing that Nathaniel had absolutely no interest in marriage, children, or her.
Lord Markham’s daughters came to talk with Rebecca, so Frances excused herself to wander the grounds.
She knew Rebecca would have offered to come with her had she known she wasn’t simply going for refreshments, but Rebecca looked happy with her friends, and Frances enjoyed wandering the grounds. It wasn’t like she had to worry about being caught with anyone for a second time.
The thought wasn’t the least bit comforting, but she also could have done much worse.
She wandered the rows of sunken gardens and imagined all the flowers she could put in the greenhouse, all the trees she might eventually plant on the grounds.
She got to what looked like the beginnings of a maze and chose to walk around it, rather than risk getting lost. They’d been there nearly three hours, so Rebecca would hopefully be eager to go home soon.
If not, Frances could sit with the other chaperones and watch, as she’d assumed she would do with Daisy.
Frances rounded the final corner of shrubbery and heard voices.
Snickering.
She somehow knew, even before Miss Caulder used names, that it was about her.
"I knew he’d be a challenge. Men like Nathaniel Sutton are notoriously afraid of commitment, but for him to turn around and marry Frances Plimpton, of all people.
He had to have been forced. Blackmailed even, because his reputation did not seem to concern him at the Sampson ball.
And honestly, I could have caught those two in flagrante and still wouldn’t have believed she’d been compromised. ”
“His vehement opposition to marriage was more surprising to me,” Lady Markham argued. “When we were younger, he went on and on about getting married and having a big, happy family like the one he grew up in. It was rather unseemly, but we do forgive our nobility their fancies.”
“It would have to be a large family, given his philandering. Perhaps Frances caught him with a married woman, and a wedding was the price for her silence?”
“I would have taken the scandal.”
The two women giggled as they made their way back to the party, but Frances stayed behind for a moment to regain her composure.
Not that she cared what the women thought of her.
She also found their pairing incredibly hard to believe.
But if Lady Markham was right, if Nathaniel had grown up wanting to get married and have a family, if he relished everything else that came with being an earl—then Frances was the only part of the equation Nathaniel didn’t want.
Mercifully, Rebecca was on her own by the time she reached her.
“Are you ready to leave?” Frances tried to look as normal and pleasant as she possibly could.
I…” Rebecca looked over to where Frances saw a group of young men, surrounded by all the unmarried ladies of the party, then back at her. “I would love nothing more than to go home,” she assured her. “How were the gardens?”
“Lovely,” Frances answered. “Very enlightening.”