Chapter 5

It shouldn't have come as any surprise to Frances, but it still stung when Lady Hutchings announced that she would not be attending Lord Dartmouth's ball the following week. Instead, Frances would attend as Juliet's chaperone.

"Me? I'm but nineteen myself. Won't everyone whisper about how you've sent two eligible young ladies out to a social occasion unattended?" she asked, confused by the decision.

"Not at all. You will be attending as her companion, not as a guest of Lord Dartmouth," her aunt replied with a satisfied smile.

"I see," Frances answered evenly.

So that's how she intends to play her hand, she thought, turning her eyes back to her book even if her attention was still on this new development. I'm just to go in her place and stand against a wall. No dancing, no strolls on the terrace to take in the cool evening air, no chatting with friends and any gentlemen who may come up to speak to us… just watch over Juliet and keep to the shadows.

"It's the least you can do, you know," Lady Hutchings snapped. "After all we've done for you, I would have hoped you would care about Juliet's future just a little bit."

"And what of my future?" she retorted, looking up at her aunt and trying to keep her tone civil. "Am I to live here with you forever?"

"Oh, don't be silly. We would never allow that," Lady Hutchings said in a frosty voice.

Frances froze. They intended to turn her out once Juliet was safely wed, she was sure of it. They would never do it beforehand for the scandal could come back on their daughter, but she knew an uncomfortable truth—her days at Kleeton House were numbered. There was nothing to be done but do her duty by her aunt and uncle, then hope she found a position as a governess or teacher as soon as possible.

As she readied for the ball that evening, Sara did her best to lift Frances' spirits, but there was nothing to be done. She helped Frances get ready, clucking her tongue sadly when she saw the gown that was laid out on the bed.

"This old thing? Pardon my sayin' so, but shouldn't you wear somethin' finer to such an important ball?" Sara asked, picking up the simple-looking garment.

"I have no choice. I'm to wear my own things from now on and simply chaperone Juliet. It's my aunt's wishes," Frances explained, trying not to show how sad she was.

"Oh, so Her Ladyship is plannin' to make you look dull so her own daughter can shine? Miss Turner, there's no amount of polishin' that will ever make that girl prettier than you, forgive my sayin' so," Sara said slyly. "Never mind about that. Just wait til ya see how I make you turn out!"

For the next few minutes, Sara raced back and forth from Frances' room, returning each time with more and more items. A silk ribbon to tie around her slender neck, a glittering brooch to pin the bodice of her gown and a bit of lace to fasten across the top, even a scattering of hair pins each topped with a tiny, delicate shell soon dotted the cover of her bed.

"Sara, where did you get all this?" Frances asked, bewildered.

"Borrowed it from the others. But do be careful with all of it, I promised ‘em all you'd take care with their things," she answered. "But this is nothin'. Wait til they see what that gorgeous hair of yours can do!"

More than thirty minutes passed as Sara brushed out Frances' dark brown hair until it gleamed. She pulled and twisted and worked each lock into a separate coil until Frances looked like one of the Greek goddesses whose statue stood in the middle of the museum hall.

"Now, what do ya think?" Sara asked, holding up a small borrowed looking glass for Frances to see.

"Sara, you're incredible! How did you learn to do this?" she breathed, turning her head this way and that to admire the maid's handiwork.

"I told ya, I been practicin'. But Miss Turner, you must promise me ya won't tell. Ya have to say ya did it yerself, otherwise Lady Hutchings'll forbid me to help ya anymore."

"Sara, it will pain my heart dearly to steal the credit for this, but you have my word. I will not let on that it was you, I promise."

Sara smiled with relief and Frances thanked her once more. She went downstairs to wait for Juliet, passing the time by practicing looking unbothered by the entire arrangement. When at long last Juliet was ready, she and Lady Hutchings both stopped in the doorway to the drawing room and gaped at Frances.

"What's… what did you do?" Juliet demanded, staring at Frances before turning to her mother with a silent, pleading look.

"Are you ready to go?" Frances asked simply, pretending to be oblivious to their stares.

"Where did you get all that?" Lady Hutchings demanded shrilly, looking her up and down.

Frances looked down and held out the skirts of her simple gown. She looked back to her aunt as though she didn't understand her meaning.

"This is just an old gown I've had. Oh these? They're just some things I borrowed. I'd hate for anyone at Lord Dartmouth's party to think that my aunt and uncle couldn't afford to properly outfit me for the Season. I'm only thinking of you, Aunt Bridget," she said with a simpering look.

Her aunt was positively fuming. But what could she say to Frances' thoughtful explanation? Without another word, she strode away, leaving the girls to head out to the waiting carriage.

At Lord Dartmouth's house, Frances positioned herself in a place where she could conspicuously watch over her cousin without losing sight of her in the crowd of guests. As the house had a grand ballroom where the dancing was to take place, keeping a close eye on her would prove an easy task. She bade Juliet inform her if she decided to go out to the terrace, then settled back against the wall to wait for the agonizingly long event to end.

"Frances! You've made it at last! Come, let's take a turn of the room," Agnes called out, coming up beside her and squeezing her hand. Frances noted how Agnes looked over her gown, but the sweet girl said nothing about it.

"I'm afraid I mustn't. My aunt was unable to attend this evening, so I must keep my attention on Juliet," she explained.

"It's no bother. Where is she, and we'll stay with her, too."

Frances smiled. That was so like Agnes to be perpetually happy, even as she worried over her circumstances or tolerated others' snide remarks and scorn.

"I don't know that she would want us to stay with her. See? She's already found some of her own friends. No, I'm content to stand here."

"Then I shall stay with you. When Emma comes, we shall each take our turn all evening keeping you company!" she promised.

"You are too kind, Aggie. But you mustn't. Go and have your fun, and don't forget to bring me something to drink once in a while to keep me from growing parched!"

Frances smiled to herself as she watched Agnes reluctantly disappear into the crowd of guests. Though her family was far from ideal, Frances knew that she was still luckier than most in that regard. Coupled with the good friends she had, she truly counted herself blessed.

Throughout the evening, Frances fought to keep a close eye on Juliet, but it almost seemed as though her cousin was trying to evade her. There was a lengthy, heart-stopping feeling of panic when she couldn't see the girl any longer, and her mind raced with terrible possibilities. She hoped she'd gone out to the terrace with some of her friends, but Frances did not find her there. She'd searched the first floor of the house room by room, politely inquiring of any of the younger ladies she saw if they'd chanced to see Juliet, but no one had. She feared the worst but didn't dare to make a bigger fuss, knowing that rumors could circulate at any time.

"Emma, Agnes! There you are, thank goodness," Frances said breathlessly when she came across them standing with some gentlemen. She made her apologies to the would-be suitors and pulled the girls away. "I cannot find Juliet anywhere!"

"Your cousin? Did you look on the terrace?" Emma asked, looking worried.

"Perhaps a moonlight stroll in the garden?" Agnes suggested with a hint of a smile, but a stern look from Frances prompted her to grow serious.

"You must help me find her, but we must be discreet about it! I fear the worst, and of course, it will be my fault if some harm comes to her."

Or to her reputation!Frances thought, though she dared not say such a thing.

The friends went in separation directions to begin their inconspicuous search. Frances took Agnes' words to heart and went directly towards the terrace doors, slipping past the couples who strolled under the watchful attention of several matrons who'd been positioned outside for just such a purpose. She made her way down the stone steps that led to the garden and kept to the shadows, hoping against hope that her effort proved useless.

It was not to be.

Ahead of her, deep into the shadowy part of the garden that wasn't illuminated by the half-moon hanging overhead, Frances made out two figures. Her heart sank with the certainty that this could be none other than Juliet, though she continued to hope that it was not. She crept forward as silently as her slippers allowed lest she accidentally come upon two people who were none of her concern. With each careful tiptoeing step, she felt the gravel beneath her feet shift, wincing with every crunch of stone.

As she got closer, Frances heard their murmuring voices as they spoke softly to each other. It would have been endearing if not so dangerous, as their muddled words seemed to have so much meaning behind them. She felt like the worst sort of spy, the kind that intrudes on someone's life and steals what wasn't meant to be known by others. Still, this could not be allowed to continue.

Frances turned around so that she wasn't facing them and cleared her throat. The scrambling of feet against gravel told her they were now aware of her presence.

"Who's there?" a man's voice called out, his voice on edge.

"Oh, no one important. Just her chaperone, ensuring that there's no cause for any gossipers to tell their tales," Frances called back lightly.

"Frances? Is that you?" Juliet asked.

"Of course, it's me. But I suppose I should be wondering why it's you out here."

Frances turned around in time to see a young man dart off into the shadows and disappear, the tall hedges trembling where he must have slipped through them.

It shouldn't be hard to figure out who he was, she thought good-naturedly. I shall only have to look for the man with the torn coat and twigs in his hair.

"Are you going to tell Mother?" Juliet asked tearfully, coming closer and looking up at Frances with the most sorrowful expression.

"That depends. Do you intend to do something so untoward as to sneak off unchaperoned with a strange man ever again?" she asked, trying to sound gentle.

"He's not some strange man. I… I'm in love with him!"

"Now Juliet, how can you possibly believe you are in love with someone? This is only our second event of the Season, remember?"

"No, you don't understand," her cousin protested, shaking her head. "I mean, I've been in love with him for nearly a year now."

"A year? Good heavens! After all that time, why, you could have been happily married already! If he'd only brought his suit to Uncle Josias, why then—"

Frances stopped. It all made sense. Juliet hardly protesting when Frances was permitted to wear her gowns, barely joining in when Lady Hutchings cajoled her, claiming that Frances had kept all the worthy gentlemen for herself and no one had spoken to her or danced with her…

"I see," Frances said quietly, her heart aching for the girl and her wholly unsuitable love interest. "Who is he?"

"You wouldn't know him," Juliet answered quietly. At the stern look of reproach on Frances' face, she reluctantly said, "His father is the butcher who sells us the meat for the house. We met when he would make deliveries to the house. But Frances, you must believe me! Thomas is working very hard and his father even permits him to study. He intends to become a clerk and then solicitor someday. He could even be a solicitor for some wealthy nobleman, or even a steward over someone's entire estate. He has it all planned out, and he works so very hard. I know he will succeed!"

"Juliet, I am not the one who requires convincing," Frances said as tenderly as she could.

"I know," her cousin answered, her face crumpling with heartache. "But I love him so much! I don't want any of these gentlemen in that grand house there! I want the man who adores me, who sees me and not my father's money. I want Thomas, for he knows what it means to care about something and do whatever it takes to have it!"

"Oh, this is quite the dilemma… for now, I should think you mustn't say anything, least of all to your mother."

"Does that mean," Juliet began, though she stopped to look up at Frances with new understanding. "You mean you don't intend to tell her?"

"No, I do not. It's none of my business," Frances said before giving her cousin a sly grin.

"Frances, I don't know what to say. We've been horrid to you. I—I've been horrid to you! I don't deserve your kindness after how little regard I've shown you," Juliet said, genuine tears of sincere remorse slipping down her cheeks.

"Well, I would appreciate a touch more kindness from you in exchange for my secrecy," Frances teased. "But we must have a serious talk about what you intend to do, as well as what you may have already done."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know of a more polite or gentle way to put this, so I must be uncomfortably straightforward. You must think of your circumstances and your reputation. Have you permitted this Mr. Thomas to take any liberties with you?"

"What's that?" Juliet asked, cringing.

"I mean has anything untoward occurred? You know, between the two of you?"

Juliet still looked thoroughly confused, and Frances sighed in frustration. She looked around to ensure that no one had crept into the garden, then leaned closer and whispered in her cousin's ear just in case. Juliet's eyes went wide as she pressed a hand to her heart.

"No! Absolutely not!" she cried. "I would never! But moreover, Thomas would never!"

"That is very good to hear, but there's one lesson that was imparted to us at Miss Chatham's school almost daily: there is no such thing as a man who would never, especially if we are permitting or encouraging him. Always remember that," Frances cautioned in earnest. "Come now, let's return inside and rejoin the party. But mark my words, you and I shall talk about this another time."