Page 46 of The Viscount's Pearl
“Is this the way you present yourself to your husband, girl? Devil take it, that is not how you will dress when we are married. You look like a maid, and a slovenly one at that. You’ll be dressed in silks when we marry, and wear the Hosmer jewels, or I’ll know the reason why. I expect a marchioness to look like a marchioness. I know your mother didn’t tell you to dress like that, for she turns herself out well enough. Done it to spite me, have you? Insolent girl.” He gave a huff. “Well, no matter, I promised to take you in hand and I shall. You’ll not get away that easily.” He waved a piece of paper at her. “Special licence. Your mother has been drivelling about a society wedding but I’m glad I said no, looking at the state of you. No. We’ll be married tomorrow morning in your chapel and that’ll be an end to this nonsense. We’ll travel to my home without stopping for a wedding breakfast. It’ll take us three days as it is. Your parents have gone for a walk in the gardens, no doubt to allow me to court you, but there’s no need for all of that sentimental claptrap.”
There was a rushing sound in her ears, a thumping beat in her chest, but Frances licked her dry lips and opened her mouth, the first of her planned words coming out as a whisper so that she had to start again. “There will be no…. There will be no wedding. I refuse to marry you, Lord Hosmer. I never gave my consent to begin with and I do not give it now. If you drag me before aclergyman I will protest that I am unwilling and I will not repeat the vows.” She had said the words, had remembered them all, had stood her ground and now it was done.
Lord Hosmer’s face turned crimson with rage. “How dare you, you insolent slip of a girl? You will do your father’s bidding and mine and there will no more of this disobedience!”
Her legs were shaking under her but she stood her ground. “I will not marry you.”
He struck out at her with his cane, catching her in the knees. “I will teach you a lesson! Youwillobey me!”
She stood still, staring at his red face, hearing his angry breathing, her legs stinging from where he had struck her. And then she lunged forward and snatched his cane from his hands. Startled, he stepped back and half-lost his footing. His cane came whistling down on his shoulder, hitting it with a solid thump and a cracking sound. He cried out, then stared in amazement as Frances let go of the broken cane, turned and grabbed a vase full of flowers. She tore out the elegant arrangement, throwing it to the floor, before dousing him in the face with the cold dirty water inside and then hurling the vase to the ground, where it smashed, splinters of glass scattering across the room.
“What is the meaning of this?” he roared, but Frances hardly heard him, the rushing sound was all around her, she could not see anything but the piece of paper held in his hand, the dreaded document that would see her sworn to this man, and she wrested it from his hand and flung it into the fire, where it flickered for a moment before a quick flame rose and the special licence was gone, falling into ashes as they both stared at it.
Lord Hosmer turned to shout at her, but Frances was already screaming at him, stepping closer and closer until she was barely a hand’s breadth from him, standing on tiptoe to make herself taller.
“You are a monster! A vile beast with the manners of a guttersnipe, whose wives died because they couldn’t bear life with you – what makes you think I would ever –ever– be one of them? No woman in her right mind would marry you, no woman would want your stinking breath on her face and your clawing hands on her body! Get out of my sight. Get OUT!”
He reached out to grab at her shoulders but again she was too quick for him, putting both hands to his chest and shoving him backwards, then turning and running to the door where she looked back for one moment, taking in the sight of Lord Hosmer, soaked and red-faced, fallen back on the sofa near the ashes of the special licence in the grate, the carpet wet where he had stood, the floor scattered with shards of glass and crushed flowers. Then she ran to her room and slammed the door behind her, clambering onto her bed, clawing at the covers. She pulled them over herself entirely, covering her head so that she could shelter in the darkness.
From below she heard raised voices, then angry feet, a door slamming and the wheels of a carriage driving away. Then a silence that lasted hours. Her breathing slowed at last and her eyes closed as exhaustion claimed her.
It was dusk when Deborah crept into her room, after a tentative knock at the door which Frances had not answered.
“Are you alright, Miss?”
She crept out of the rumpled sheets. “Has he left?”
“Yes, Miss.” Deborah closed the door behind her and hovered over Frances, her face anxious.
“Has he given up on the marriage?”
“Yes, Miss. He told your father he wouldn’t have a lunatic like you as a wife, that you’d taint his family line. Begging your pardon, Miss.”
Frances sat up in bed. “He said I was a lunatic?”
Deborah lowered her voice to a nervous whisper. “I heardhim talking to your parents, Miss. He said that you were quite mad and should be locked away. He even gave the master the details of a Doctor Morrison and said he was a doctor who was experienced with lunatics and would take care of you somewhere private without any scandal to the Lilley family name. He said he’s sent a sister of his into Doctor Morrison’s care and she was much better for it.”
A chill ran down Frances’ arms. “They did not listen to him?”
Deborah looked uncertain. “Lord Lilley put the card in his pocket,” she whispered. “Should I try to find and destroy it, so he don’t try to use it?”
It was like a fog, trying to think. Frances shook her head slowly. “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” she said. “But I must speak with my parents before they think about what he said for too long. Thank you, Deborah.”
Deborah nodded, her face still anxious. “I did have hopes about that nice Mr Mowatt,” she said. “He seemed gentlemanly, and you spent so much time together in Margate. I thought perhaps when he was made Lord Barrington –”
“Thank you, Deborah,” interrupted Frances, unwilling to hear anything complimentary about Laurence Mowatt at this moment.
She made her way downstairs to the drawing room, which had been tidied, although a damp mark still indicated the area of carpet where Lord Hosmer had stood. She sent a footman to find her parents and when they came to the drawing room she sat opposite them, took a deep breath and said, “I need to speak with you both. It is about the money from my godfather.”
Chapter 12
A House by the Sea
Lord Lilley was in a foul temper. He had already consulted his lawyer, but that had made things worse, for the lawyer had agreed with Frances, saying that the money from the late Lord Barrington was now hers to do with as she pleased, and that as she was of age she could indeed set herself up in a small house by the seaside, as she had always wished to do, and there was really very little Lord and Lady Lilley could do about it. Lord Lilley could, of course, hold back the money that would have come to her on her marriage, forcing her to live on only five hundred pounds a year, the interest from Lord Barrington’s ten thousand pounds, and indeed he was minded to do just that, but an objection arose in the unexpected form of Lady Lilley.
“She cannot live possibly on five hundred pounds a year,” Lady Lilley had wept. “She will have only two servants and will not be able to keep a carriage. She will be laughed at.Wewill belaughed at. It will bring the Lilley name into disrepute. People will think she is a mad old maid in a hovel.”
“Shewillbe a mad old maid in a hovel,” stormed Lord Lilley.
