Chapter 9

"You're certain you don't mind?" Juliet asked timidly, looking rather sheepish.

"Not at all. If either of us can have any happiness, then we should strive to attain it. I have no problem keeping a close watch over you and looking out for your mother as well," Frances explained as they walked towards the market.

It's actually the perfect excuse to get out of that house, Frances thought, though she didn't say it.

Ever since the Duke—Anthony Hughes, Frances kept having to remind herself—had made his offer of marriage, Lord and Lady Hutchings had become wholly unbearable. In just the one day since the announcement, both of them had fluctuated between berating her for accepting his offer or ignoring her completely. It had been almost comical at first, such as when Lady Hutchings had looked around in confusion when Frances spoke up at dinner, only to ask the others present, "Did you hear something? Did anyone hear that? It sounded like a voice, but I couldn't quite make it out."

Some of their other interactions had not been as amusing. That morning at breakfast, Lord Hutchings informed Frances that she would not be permitted to take any of her things with her as they had all been paid for by him.

"I shall have to sell them to get my money back now that I must pay Lord Rowland for his silence," he'd growled. "After promising him your hand in marriage, he'll certainly inform everyone that it was his decision to reject you and not the other way around. But I wouldn't expect you to care about any of that now, would I?"

In just the space of a day, there had been not only the threats against her property, but also constant admonishments to reconsider. Her aunt and uncle had attempted to sway her to reject the duke, even going so far as to assure her that she did not have to marry the detestable earl.

"You don't have to marry at all, you know. You can remain here indefinitely if that's what you wish," Lady Hutchings had said, attempting to sound sweet.

The thought of such an existence had made Frances almost physically ill. Remain at the house with two people who despised the very sight of her? She would rather consider Lord Rowland than endure a fate such as that!

Lady Hutchings' kind generosity had been short-lived. Soon enough, the reprieve from the woman's ire had ended and the torments had begun again:

"You'll never make him happy. His kind have both money and power, and they're always on the prowl for another young lady. I've even heard talk that he's something of a rake…"

"You see marriage as some sort of escape from us? Your family? You don't yet know the meaning of controlling! Wait until you're married to a man who won't spare so much as a penny to mend your garments, let alone hire any staff…"

"I've just learned from my sister that Preston has two children by his servant! Luckily for you, it's not too late to untangle yourself from such a situation as that…"

The constant excuses had gone on and on, often becoming wilder with every new story. At long last, Frances had not known what to believe, nor how to tell truth from lies. All she could do was assume that she would be all right.

"Look, there he is!" Juliet whispered, drawing Frances back from her thoughts.

"I don't see him," Frances said, standing on her toes to see over the heads of the people in the crowded marketplace.

"He's right there by the block. He's the one wrapping up a parcel for that woman."

"Oh, now I see him. My, he is quite handsome in the light of day, is he not?" Frances remarked kindly, smiling at her cousin.

"He most certainly is," Juliet said, sighing. "But that's not all that I adore about him, remember. I'm not some silly, love-struck girl who's making a rash decision."

"Well, that's good to hear. I did have visions of you sneaking off to Gretna Green, you know," Frances teased.

"I would go tomorrow if I could marry Thomas!" Juliet replied, tugging on Frances' arm to pull her closer. "But it is Thomas who wouldn't hear of it. He said he will speak to my father and state his case, informing him of all of his virtues. My father will simply have to agree when he learns how ambitious Thomas is and how much we love each other."

And I fear that my escaping their clutches will have the opposite effect, Frances thought miserably, though she made certain not to let it show.

"Come, he's far too busy to leave his father's shop, but we can at least speak to him and greet him. We shall have to pretend we're bringing our order from the house if anyone comes up to us and can overhear."

"Understood!"

Juliet led the way through the crowd with Frances following right behind her. It was nearly impossible to watch one's step and avoid jostling people, so Frances could only hope her slippers weren't suffering for it. When they finally reached the table outside the shop where Thomas was busy passing packages over to their buyers, they had to wait in line for the ones ahead of them to be served.

"Here, take this paper and pretend to be ordering from Cook's list," Juliet said, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Frances did as she was told, amused to find that Juliet had gone to the trouble of writing out a list of what they needed.

"Juliet! This much meat would feed the King's army! The sausages alone will require half a dozen pigs!"

"I didn't know what else to write down. It will be fine, just be sure we don't hand it over by mistake," Juliet insisted before shushing Frances. They'd reached the front of the queue, and Juliet smiled adoringly at Thomas.

"Hello there," Thomas said quietly, glancing around and looking nervous.

"Hello," Juliet replied, suddenly seeming quite shy.

Frances fought back a laugh of delight. They were positively adorable, and both so nervous with one another that it was a wonder they'd ever had an entire conversation.

"It is lovely to meet you," Frances said pointedly. "I am Miss Walford's cousin, Miss Frances Turner. I must say that you look quite different in the light of day."

For his part, Thomas blushed a deep red. "Thank you for keeping our secret. Juliet sent me word that you were the one to find us in that garden, and I am grateful to you for not revealing anything."

"I am all too happy to protect your secrets," she replied, waving off his gratitude, "so long as you are sincere in your intentions."

"Oh, most certainly, Miss Turner!" Thomas gushed, and Juliet grinned excitedly.

"Oi there, what's takin' so long?" a customer called out from behind them, prompting Frances to look back apologetically.

"Will you come to the house later this evening?" Juliet asked hopefully, and Thomas nodded after glancing to his left and right once more.

"You there! Don't know what yer going on about, but the rest of us have to move along! Make yer purchase and be out o' the way!" the same person called back.

"What's going on out here?" the butcher said, sticking his head out of the shop window and wiping his hands on his blood-spattered apron.

"Yer boy is holdin' up the line. We've got work to do, but we can't be leavin' our orders for him takin' too long!"

"Juliet, we should go. You don't want Thomas in trouble with his father," Frances urged her, growing unnerved by the grumblings in the crowd.

"Is that you again?" the butcher shouted out the window to Juliet. "I thought I told ya to keep away from here. My boy's got work to do, and we sure don't need any trouble from any high and mighty noblemen who don't take kindly to their girls comin' round. Move along now!"

"Da, please," Thomas said over his shoulder, but the butcher only glared at him.

"It's all right. I'm going," Juliet whispered mournfully.

Frances mumbled an apology to Thomas and to the butcher and hurried away, practically dragging Juliet by the arm as she went. When they were far enough away from the crowd, she looked down at her cousin and wiped at her tears.

"You forgot to mention that Thomas' parents don't approve," she said slowly. "I suppose I just assumed they'd be pleased."

"No," Juliet said sadly, shaking her head. Her shoulders began to tremble with her quiet sobs. "They think I'm not serious, that their son is reaching too far above his place. But what does any of that matter? Thomas is going to do great things! I know it! And if he should fail, I won't care if I'm only the wife of a clerk, or if I can only hope that my husband becomes a solicitor. I love him, and other people's opinions matter not to me!"

Frances put an arm around Juliet's shoulders and held her tightly as they walked away from the market, trying to console her. Their combined misery only enraged her. Why should this kind of heartache be their lot in life? Frances having to marry a stranger with unusual ways, Juliet denied the man she loves because they come from two different parts of the same world. How was any of that right?

Suddenly, Frances was gripped by an overwhelming feeling of fear.

"Juliet! Where's the list?" she asked, hoping the girl had taken it.

"What list? Do you mean, the one I made?" she asked, clearly frightened now.

"Yes, that one," Frances moaned, stopping in the street and closing her eyes. "I don't have it. I was hoping you did!"

"Oh no, this is terrible! What if the butcher has it and thinks it's a real order? Mother and Father will find out everything when they refuse to pay for it! What do we do?"

"I'll have to go back and explain it to Thomas. You wait here, and don't go anywhere. I shall be only a few moments."

Frances raced back to the butcher shop, scanning the ground as she went in hopes of finding the paper dropped somewhere along the way. There was no sign of it, though, nor did she see any white scraps on the ground around the table where they'd been standing. Her heart sank when she realized that it must have been brought inside already.

I can only hope that Thomas has it and knows not to fill the order. The cost would be a year's wages for a laborer, and too costly to go ignored by either the butcher or the household! Frances thought desperately.

There was nothing to be done but go inside the shop and inquire. Frances prayed that the butcher wouldn't recognize her, having seen her for only a minute while he was scolding Juliet. To her surprise, neither the butcher nor Thomas was inside the shop when she entered.

"Is anyone here?" Frances called out, despairing of preventing the order from being placed.

There was no reply.

Frances looked around the shop and tried to peer through the doors off to the sides, but she didn't see any sign of people. She thought to go out once more and inspect the rear of the shop, hoping someone could direct her to the butcher.

"How many times have I told ya?" a man shouted as Frances reached the corner of the low building. She jumped, wondering briefly who could be speaking to her this way.

"But Da, I've already said it. I plan to study. David will be your apprentice, he's already told me as much."

"What good will he do me? He's half yer age and as lazy as a stump. I can't be trainin' him up in this business and tryin' to feed our family as well. It won't work out. Yer just gonna have to forget that addled-minded girl and work for me."

"Da, it's not just about that girl. I want to better myself—"

"Oh, there's somethin' wrong with being just a butcher now, is there?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Thomas said, sighing in frustration and regret. Frances' heart went out to him, for anything he said would be taken for an insult.

"As I said, yer done pinin' over that girl. Her father can cause us barrels o' trouble, and I'm not goin' to stand for it. You put a stop to it right now, a-fore someone accuses you of havin' yer way with her."

"I beg your pardon!" Frances shouted before she could stop herself.

"You! What're ya doin' listenin' to others talk like that?" the butcher shouted at her, causing Frances to flinch.

"Well, I'm rather glad I did, for now I can set your mind straight on the matter. My cousin is not the sort of girl to permit anyone to take any liberties with her. She loves your son very much, and she is proud of who he is," Frances argued hotly. "She knows quite well what his station has been, and she knows that he intends to work hard. But even should he fail to rise above his beginnings, she cares not and would be a good wife to him. You should be so lucky as to have such a devoted and adoring girl to love your son!"

"Eh? Is that so? And how lucky will I be when that father of hers has my son thrown in the gaol for darin' to so much as look at his daughter, let alone marry her?" the man protested.

Frances didn't have an answer. In her desire to see someone be happy, she had failed to consider that other people could actually be put in harm's way by the effort.

"They are breaking no law," she said weakly, though she knew that someone in Thomas' position had little recourse against a viscount who'd been wronged.

"I wish that were good ‘nough," the butcher said, his tone changing slightly to almost sarcastic understanding. He looked to his son and saw the expression of longing and hurt Thomas wore. "Truly, I do."

Frances was at a loss. There had to be some way she could convince this man that Juliet had no ill intentions, that her heart was as set as his own son's on being together. She found no other way except for the most obvious.

"Then you shall simply have to speak to Lord Hutchings yourself," she said to both of them. "Rather than sneaking through the marketplace or arriving at social events disguised as a footman, you must be honest about your intentions, assuming they are real."

"How can I when I am nothing but a butcher's son?" Thomas asked weakly, casting a sheepish look to his father at such a statement.

"You are not nothing, boy!" the butcher shouted back, taking his son by the shoulder. "You are the smartest young man I know, able to do anything he sets his mind to. You shall study and do more, I vow it!"

"But what of your shop? Weren't you just telling me that you cannot manage it without me?"

The butcher waved off Thomas' words. "I was only mad. We'll find a way to make it work, though ya may have to teach that brother of yers to do the job right."

Frances smiled at their newfound understanding then remembered her errand.

"I'm so sorry, but I came to speak to you about an order we may have accidentally requested. It was only part of Miss Walford's ruse to come see Thomas, and we did not intend to actually purchase it."

The butcher narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before laughing merrily.

"I thought it might be a bit too much when I first read it," he said, pulling the paper from his apron pocket and handing it back. "Not even Thomas could eat so much!"

Frances thanked him for understanding, the relief she felt causing her to be light-headed. She made them promise they would consider her advice, though inwardly, she wondered a grave thing—how would Lord and Lady Hutchings ever accept this man as Juliet's husband if they barely tolerated her as their niece?