Chapter Thirty-Four
The season was in full swing, so it was days until Nathaniel found himself getting into bed with Frances at a reasonable hour. She was often asleep before he even reached her chambers. Or, most likely pretending to, but he knew better than to call her on it.
“How was your day?” he asked cautiously.
They attended balls together, and he insisted on family dinners, but he rarely saw her during the day, even if he wasn’t in Parliament.
He would do whatever was best for her, but it might hurt more than he cared to admit if Frances decided they should live separate lives.
“Very productive.” She smiled with pride.
“The house or the garden?”
“The house. Yours is a happy one, so we try to preserve as much of the bones as we can.”
“You can change as much as you’d like until this feels like your home as well. My only request is that you don’t throw anything out.”
“I believe Stevens is more nostalgic than you are, so nothing ever crosses the threshold unless it is to be polished or cleaned.”
“He worked for the Suttons before my mother ever met my father,” Nathaniel shared. “He told me the staff tries to stay impartial, because they have no control over the next lady of the house, but my mother was his favorite.”
“Our staff definitely had favorites,” Frances agreed.
“Did they despise me?” The thought sobered him, but he could only imagine how Stevens would react to someone who forced Grace or Rebecca into a similar marriage.
“I assume they’re undecided. Or at least they would have been, until you went to Mrs. Brown.” She’d thanked him for the evening with his siblings, and for making her favorite meal, but this was the first time she acknowledged that it had been her family cook’s recipe.
“Lizzie was lonely when she first moved to Lotham, so Rebecca asked Mrs. Mulberry for all her favorite recipes, and sent them to her. When you agreed to marry me, I asked Mrs. Brown if there were any recipes she might part with, in case you ever seemed homesick, but I felt the other night warranted your favorite meal.”
“I was wondering how you convinced her to give it to you.”
“I can be very persuasive when I need to be,” he teased, “but very little convincing was needed once I explained what the recipes were for.”
“Thank you.” Frances smiled sadly at him. “Your favorite meal is potato soup?”
“I feel incredibly judged by your tone.”
Since they were talking, with no signs of stopping, Nathaniel moved onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow so he could face her.
It didn’t even take a minute of staring at Frances in such an intimate setting, in a nightgown that was definitely part of her trousseau—even if she kept her robe on top—for Nathaniel to convince himself his fingernails were fascinating.
“I’m just curious, since your siblings dislike it.”
“When I was maybe four or five years old, my parents and I stopped at my uncle’s property on our way home.
The rest of our group, including the staff, kept going.
It started pouring, out of nowhere, so a quick visit turned into an overnight stay, with just the three of us, and my mother insisting she could make dinner. ”
“And potato soup is what she came up with?”
“Mrs. Mulberry’s is infinitely better than what my mother scrounged up, but every time we have it, all I can remember is the three of us eating in the kitchen, and Mother laughing as my father teased her.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“What about you?”
He meant why vol au vent was her favorite, but should have been more specific, because she got a sad look on her face as she tried in vain to remember something.
“I can’t picture a single time where all of us were happy.
There were moments, of course, but they’re tainted by whatever came before or after.
There was this one time, we were at the modiste’s, since Papa’s brother was buying us all new dresses for our cousin’s wedding.
We were so excited, the four of us, but nearly as soon as we got inside, Iris and Daisy both wanted blue, because one wanted to be like the other, while the other wanted to stand out.
Mary simply adored a dress that cost twice as much as what had been budgeted for each of us, and my father was insistent that she get what she wanted, even though Mary said she didn’t need it. ”
“What about you?”
“I found this beautiful yellow fabric that looked like it was dipped in sunshine, but my mother snatched it from my fingers and said no before I could even bring it to my face.”
“Yellow is your favorite color, is it not?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why unfortunately? Is there something wrong with it?”
“Only when I wear it.”
“Because you shine brighter than the sun?”
“Because I look frightful in yellow. I only ever wear it when no one else will be there—or when we have guests I am not aware of and am caught off-guard.”
“I don’t know who told you that, but I promise I am not mocking you when I say how beautiful you are in yellow. When you wear it, I can’t help but smile.”
He made a mental note to order her a dozen yellow dresses.
“That’s kind, but—”
“It’s honest,” he insisted. “Why do you bring the moment up if it wasn’t happy? Why does that day stand out?”
“Because while we were there, a woman came in with her daughters. I watched them the whole time they were in the shop, and I don’t think they ever stopped smiling.
When two of the girls wanted lilac, the fight was each of them wanting the other to get the color she wanted, before they decided neither cared if they had the same dress, if it made them both happy.
And when one of the girls was too shy to get this gorgeous, pink dress she said she loved more than anything, even after they all told her she would look wonderful in it, the mother said she could wear it in the country, at family parties, until she was more comfortable in it.
I watched them and thought, ‘That’s what I want when I grow up.
’ I want to be a part of a family where everyone loves and likes and supports each other.
Not a single one of them ever mentioned shortcomings or being too fat or too ugly for a dress.
To this day, I still think of them as the ideal I aspire to. ”
“I’m sorry.” Nathaniel apologized both for her experience, and for preventing her from having that family of her own.
She sighed. “My mother said I had enough against me without wearing such an awful color, so she chose for me. I can’t even remember it, but when the dresses were delivered, mine had a flower made from the fabric of the yellow dress pinned to the inside.
I still have it. I know it’s silly, and it could have been an accident, but I always believed it was that mother.
She’d given me an encouraging smile when I had to put the yellow fabric back, and it seemed the kind of thing the woman I imagined her to be would do. ”
Frances smiled, and for a moment he thought she must have conjured a happy memory she could contribute, but then he realized she was doing it for his benefit. His heart ached for that little girl he wished he could have known.