Chapter 25

Frances awoke the following morning and resigned herself to another solitary breakfast. Still, she had to put on a brave face and try, if only in hopes that Anthony would see the effort she was making. Today, though, she came down to the dining room only to find something unexpected beside her plate. The familiar-looking paper was folded and tucked beneath her napkin so that only a small corner was sticking out. Frances looked around to see if anyone had come in behind her, then she slid the page out to read it.

With it still placed in her lap to hide it, she smoothed it open with her hand and read it to herself.

"Your Grace, please do me the extreme honor of paying me a visit upstairs this morning. I am beside myself with excitement at the thought of meeting you at last! I know we will have so much to talk about.

Faithfully, A."

Frances stared at the letter in surprise. To be certain, it did appear to be the same shaky handwriting as her previous notes from this mysterious woman. But could this be some sort of trap? A ruse concocted by Miss O'Reilly to lure her upstairs so that Anthony would stumble in and find her? This could be the very thing that would make him finally be rid of her, and it would be all her fault. Frances shook her head.

Your guilt and trepidation are making you lose your senses, she thought as she began to eat her breakfast. Besides, even if it was all some sort of scheme, you will have this note to exonerate you.

With her mind made up, Frances hurried to finish her breakfast, then returned to her room to dress for the visit. She wasn't sure what she should wear to meet this person—would it be a friendly visit with someone who was no threat to her? Or should she wear something of Lady Agnes, something that gave off an aura of power to prove that Frances wasn't intimidated by the woman's presence? In the end, she decided on something pretty but simple, something that spoke to her role as duchess without being overly pretentious. When she was ready, she slipped out of her room and made her way to the staircase door, already knowing somehow that it would be unlocked for her. She glanced around to ensure that Anthony wasn't nearby, then she slipped inside and closed it behind her. All the way up the old wooden stairs, Frances thought about how to introduce herself.

"Hello," she muttered as she climbed. "I'm the Duchess of Preston. What are you doing in my house?"

No, that will never do.

"It is lovely to meet you. Why do you live here?"

No, nor that.

The door at the top of the staircase had been left ajar again, so Frances pushed it open gently to look inside the ornate room. As before, she made her way through the beautiful sitting room and crossed over to the bedroom door, hesitating for only a few seconds before knocking.

"Wait a moment please," someone called out from the other side. Muffled voices followed after while Frances waited. At last, someone announced, "Enter!"

Frances turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door. She looked inside, this time taking in the full splendor of the bedchamber. The enormous bed that she'd seen last time was still the main feature, though other gorgeous furnishings nearly filled the space. Another table to eating or writing sat near the window with a pair of matching stuffed chairs. An easel and paints were positioned near another window where the light could filter in and aid the artist. Along one entire wall, an army of matching wardrobes had been positioned, likely to hold countless gowns and garments.

But it was the hostess herself who drew Frances' complete attention. She was no more than a girl, hardly of an age for her first Season. She was wearing a lovely gown, though Frances noticed that it seemed a little bit too large, as if it sought to consume her thin frame. Miss O'Reilly stood positioned in such a way that the nurse was literally holding the girl up, her arms shaking from the effort of supporting her.

"Good day," Frances began softly, still wide-eyed as she decided to forgo all titles and pretense. "I'm Frances Hughes."

With the nurse's help, the girl managed the most painstaking curtsey Franes had ever seen. It pierced her heart to see her try. She could stand it no longer.

"You mustn't!" Frances said, rushing forward to stop her. "I'm certainly not worth the effort!"

"That's what I told her," Miss O'Reilly mumbled, rolling her eyes. Frances ignored the barb.

"I must, Your Grace," the girl said. "It is your due! My name is Miss Abigail Hughes."

"Lady Abigail," Miss O'Reilly corrected, but the girl shook her head.

"No, my brother has married. I am now Miss Hughes, and proud to be so!" she said, smiling adoringly at her nurse.

"Your brother? What do you mean?" Frances asked, looking from the girl to the nurse and back again.

"Yes. I am Anthony's younger sister, and it is a great pleasure to meet you. Rachel, will you help me to the chair?"

"Of course, my lady."

Frances was dumbfounded as she stepped back and gave them a wide berth. The nurse remained close at Abigail's side, lifting the girl with every step and helping her to walk. It took several minutes for them to reach the table and chairs, and Frances darted forward to pull the chair out for her. She noted the nurse's brief look of appreciation before stepping back once more and letting Miss O'Reilly help Abigail to sit down.

"Won't you please sit, Your Grace?" Abigail asked, beaming as she gestured to the other chair.

"Only if you promise to call me Frances," she replied, smiling at her warmly as she took the seat across from her.

"Frances, then. And you must call me Abby. I just know we will be dear friends!"

"I truly hope so. But may I ask why you remain upstairs?" Frances inquired as gently as she could.

Abigail's face clouded over briefly, then she forced a smile. She glanced at her nurse, who only nodded once.

"I have been a sickly girl all my life," she began. "It's better for me to keep to this part of the house, for I have all that I require here. Besides, no one will have to tend to me other than Rachel this way."

"No one has to tend to you! We would be greatly honored to do so," Frances countered adamantly.

"That is very kind of you to say. But I prefer having a place for myself, especially when I'm doing poorly. Anthony is the most devoted brother, always showering me with gifts and visiting me, just as you're doing. Besides, the pair of you are married now. You certainly don't need an invalid girl in the way, disrupting your parties or upsetting your guests."

Frances was appalled. Who had put these notions in her head? The very idea that she would be a disruption or upsetting to anyone made Frances feel ill. Instead, they should be celebrating her vigorous health when she was well and consoling her when she was not.

"You could never be a disruption or a bother or a burden or… or… or whatever awful things you're thinking!" Frances insisted, leaning closer. "I would be honored to have you in our household."

Nearby, Miss O'Reilly actually looked on with approval. Frances finally got the sense that this woman was not so cold and vicious as she'd first seemed, but rather she was as fiercely devoted to Abigail as Anthony seemed to be. It did wonders to soften Frances' previous perceptions of her. She looked over at the nurse and returned her smile for Abigail's sake.

"Perhaps someday I shall consider it. For now, I have everything I could ask for up here. Besides, you and that brother of mine are only just now married. You're still on your honeymoon even! I could never intrude."

Frances fought to keep from scoffing. The thought of there even being a honeymoon was ludicrous, and now that Anthony was no longer in good spirits with her, the entire notion was unfathomable. Still, there was no need for Abigail to know these things, so Frances merely looked appreciative.

Over the course of they visit, they talked of many things. Frances began to think Abigail was far lonelier than she let on. It was one thing to keep upstairs and out of everyone's way for the sake of her health, but it was something else entirely if her self-imposed imprisonment was out of fear. Frances couldn't be certain, but some of Abigail's remarks here and there made her think it might have more to do with the latter than the former.

"So, you went away to school? I've always dreamed of it, though I could never have managed on my own. What was it like?" Abigail asked, her eyes bright despite the shadows beneath them and the hollowed look to her cheeks. Frances noted how the girl often coughed if she spoke too quickly or became too excited, and this time was no exception.

"It was interesting, to say the least," Frances answered, not wanting to disappoint her with any of the unpleasant parts. "We worked hard and learned a great many things, from how to run a household to how to dance and speak French and plot constellations. History and government were my favorite subjects, though. It was difficult at times, mostly because we were expected to be flawless in how we conducted ourselves. There were swift and severe punishment for failing to be perfectly well-mannered. But I did meet my two dearest friends there. Oh, you should meet them soon! And my cousin, Juliet Bailey! She is currently staying at Cadmoor House with her husband, in fact!"

Abigail's expression faltered. Her happy mood quickly turned fearful.

"There are more people in the house now?" she asked, her voice trembling as she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"I already told you about the new servants, my lady, and they haven't interfered with you at all," Miss O'Reilly reminded her from where she sat on the other end of the room. "Two more people will be no different, I promise. They will never even know you're here. Look how long it took Her Grace to know it, and she lives here!"

"Oh yes, I promise as well," Frances assured her, ignoring the nurse's remark. "I only meant that you would really enjoy her. I think she's near to your age, in fact! How old are you, if I may ask?"

"Seventeen. But Anthony swears I behave more like an old woman," Abigail muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Precisely the same age then! But you do not have to meet her if you don't wish to. She will not even know you're here unless you want me to tell her. Plus, with the new servants who are about the house, I'm sure it will escape her notice that you're even here."

"I don't wish to be invisible, you know. I cannot help it," Abigail said sheepishly. "It's just better this way."

Frances smiled sympathetically. Though she couldn't imagine how any of this was better, she also knew it was not her place to decide that. If Abigail felt more secure or better off in her own little fortress, it wasn't anyone else's right to argue. The entire situation painted Anthony in a whole new light, though. He had neglected the entire rest of the house while providing this oasis for his sickly, invalid sister. He had dismissed all the rest of the servants save the three who knew of Abigail and would respect her privacy. He'd forbidden all visitors and parties and experiences to keep her safe, though from what, Frances didn't know.

Anthony's behavior was suddenly beginning to make sense. More than that, Frances realized that he was, in fact, capable of intense emotions. He might be reserved in how he showed them, but he certainly did share them with others. Words may even fail him when it came time to express his love for someone, but his actions were more than sufficient to show it.

And he's shunned me because he thinks I've harmed the person he's cared for practically all his life, she thought, her earlier guilt growing. If only I'd listened to those who tried to warn me!

A knock at the door caused all three of the women to jump. Frances and Abigail looked at each other, knowing it could only be one person. They sat perplexed as to what to do until someone called out from the other side of the door.

"Abigail? Are you up?" Anthony's muffled voice asked.