Chapter Twenty-Three
Frances broke her fast with Grace and Rebecca the following morning, then worked on her plans for the greenhouse while Grace did her lessons and Rebecca wrote in a gorgeous leather-bound journal like she had to get the words out before they consumed her.
Frances had finished a first draft the night before while hiding from Nathaniel after Lady Markham’s party, but it was a list of all the exotic species she’d only read about in books.
Even if the Suttons had that kind of money, she couldn’t justify spending it on herself, especially not for flowers that bloomed only for a week, or plants that would require a gardener to tend to them daily if she ever went away.
Which, honestly, she hoped she never would.
This new draft she was working on was more sensible, with flowers that were easily available, at least in summer, and vegetables the kitchens could use.
“That’s so pretty,” Grace commented.
Frances hadn’t realized, but Rebecca’s notebook was closed on the table in front of her, and it appeared as if both girls had been watching her for at least a few minutes.
“I’m not very good at drawing,” Frances argued.
“Nonsense. I can see the texture.” Rebecca ran her finger over the picture, as if to make sure it wasn’t real.
“I used to document my progress for plants I would grow, drawing what they looked like at the beginning of each day. Mama didn’t understand why I would write descriptions as well, but thankfully, it was quite acceptable for ladies to draw flowers.”
“And needlepoint them. And paint them. Have you tried composing poems about them?”
“She’s mocking her governess, but she and Lizzie are harder on me than anyone ever was on her,” Grace pointed out.
“Only because your governess is afraid of you and would let you get away with anything you tried,” Rebecca shot back.
Grace sighed, then looked down at Frances’ flowers.
“We should put those on the wall.”
“In the family wing?” Frances was touched.
“I meant in the library, where people could actually see it, but you may shame our art to show that you belong here.”
Frances assumed Grace meant it with the utmost love and kindness, but she was roaming the halls feeling like an imposter in this family. She shouldn’t be at the head of it with a man who was annoyingly kind, even when she was the last thing he wanted.
Around midday, Sarah brought in a tea tray, along with cakes and finger sandwiches.
“Is Nate joining?” Grace asked, taking a seat on the sofa, closest to the cakes.
“He’s visiting Lord St. John, but we didn’t know which Lady Lark might enjoy.”
“Nathaniel prefers substance, while we usually stick to sweets and tea if he isn’t around,” Rebecca explained.
“And that look?” Frances pointed to Grace, who was communicating with Sarah through a series of nods.
“When there are no guests, Sarah usually sits with us.”
“And eats,” Grace added. “Or drinks, but she rarely finishes her tea.”
“You won’t because of me?” Frances asked, confused.
“It isn’t proper. These two have convinced me to disregard my position for the sake of their pleasure, but I won’t subject Lady Lark to the same.”
“If it is for my sensibilities, I usually enjoyed tea in the kitchens with our staff more than in the sitting room with my family.”
“It’s more for your reputation, Lady Lark,” Sarah argued.
“I don’t mean to disparage myself, but your reputation is probably better than mine.
Thank God I don’t read the society papers, but I can only imagine what they make of me.
Daisy used to fill me in on anything she found interesting, but she has purposely avoided telling me anything of late.
” And with good reason, considering the gossip she had heard in person.
“I’d have to ask Lord Lark,” Sarah argued.
“She wants to convince him it isn’t proper and remind him of the scandal two unmarried ladies will face if caught having tea with a lady’s maid.”
“As Lady Lark, can I authorize it? Make you my guest?” Frances avoided using her title to get anything, but for Sarah, she would try.
“I mean, yes, but—”
“Then it is authorized. Please take your seat and act as you would if I weren’t here.”
“Or perhaps act like she is Lizzie. It would be quite rude to ignore you when I have so many questions.”
“Grace,” Sarah chided before Rebecca could.
“See, this is why you should have taken the governess position instead of a lady’s maid. It would have solved all these problems,” Rebecca pointed out.
“You couldn’t pay me enough to be responsible for Grace’s behavior and marital success.
And the second Grace no longer needed me, Lord Lark would make sure I got a new placement as governess, in some other house, with strangers and bratty children, while I only like specific ones.
I’ll wait to be governess until you lot have enough children to keep me occupied into old age. ”
“In case she ever pretends we’re insufferable, know that she loves us and couldn’t bear to be without us,” Grace told Frances, smiling proudly.
“What about Abigail?” Frances asked. “Surely she needs a governess?”
“Yes, but Lizzie would never tell Sarah what to do. She would be paid to be a house guest who plays with Abby, and Sarah is somehow opposed to that. It’s one of the reasons she didn’t go with Lizzie when she got married,” Grace explained.
At first, Frances felt like an outsider, but then they purposely treated her like she actually was Lizzie, which led to fits of laughter—and a near-choking incident—before she felt as comfortable with those three women as if they truly were her sisters, the kind she’d always wanted.
At least until Nathaniel found them.
“What is this? I heard there was—”
Frances rose quickly, before Nathaniel finished his sentence, as if to shield the other three from…him?
“It’s my fault, I allowed it.”
His sisters were still laughing, while Sarah hurried back into her position along the wall, the apology written all over her face.
“You allowed it?” he asked.
“Yes. Sarah has been very kind to me, and it is just tea, in the house, with no one to see.”
His sisters weren’t laughing anymore, but looking at Frances with concern, because she was dead serious, standing her ground with a fierceness he hadn’t yet seen in her.
Then he realized he’d come in with fake anger over their eating all his favorite sandwiches, which might read differently to someone raised in a less loving and teasing household.
“I was merely stating that I was told there were finger sandwiches in here, and I see neither those, nor the cakes I am sure accompanied them.”
Frances let out a sigh of relief.
“We prepared a plate for you, in case you were hungry,” she said while Sarah went to get said plate.
“No one ate the last one?” Nathaniel looked at his youngest sister with disbelief.
“Frances wouldn’t let me,” Grace said petulantly.
“They said it was your favorite,” Frances defended.
“It is. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“Well, I think it is time for us to get back to our lessons. We will see you at dinner.” Rebecca rose and encouraged Grace to go along with her.
“That’s not—” Frances tried to argue.
“Be good.” Nathaniel let them leave. “How are your drawings for the greenhouse going? Are the plans satisfactory?”
“I’ve been working on them.” She smiled, then eyed the door.
Could she truly be nervous to be alone in a room with him? Or was she still scared?
“I was wondering how large you were thinking,” she began timidly. “The plans weren’t clear, so I am working with eight by ten, but I can make it smaller.”
“My apologies, I must have forgotten the scale. I have the materials for forty by sixty, but if you’re worried about filling it, I can ask—”
“Forty by sixty? Are you insane?”
He smiled at her incredulous shock, trying his best not to laugh at her.
“I said the largest I’ve ever seen.”
“But that’s…all for me?”
“You deserve it,” he said seriously. He was lucky enough to never have to worry about money, so he made a point to spend it making the people he cared about happy, as much as he could.
“I can’t—”
She was shaking her head, clearly not accepting his reasoning.
“My sisters also enjoy flowers. I hope you would let them gaze upon whatever you put inside. You enjoy vegetables as well, so the larger size would provide room for both. And, although I won’t insist, I would very much appreciate an occasional taste of the fresh produce.
So, it wouldn’t all be for you, as long as you were willing to share. ”
“This is most unusual,” she told him, but he could tell he’d won.
“Not for me. I grew up watching my father with my mother, my grandfather with my grandmother, my uncle with my aunt. I saw how those men treated their daughters, their sons, their staff. They are what I strive to emulate. And I know I fall short, but those men had a lifetime and I’m…
still figuring it out. Be patient with me, Frances. ”
She was quiet for a moment. “I can’t say I know what growing up like that felt like, but I can tell you that you ‘still figuring it out’ is treating me better than anyone else ever has.
Better even, in most respects, than I could have dreamed.
” Before he could comment, she added, “Don’t sell yourself short, my—Nathaniel. ”
It hit him in the chest, not for the first time, and if it wasn’t for the etiquette ingrained in his body, he would have been too affected to stand when his wife did.