Page 12 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“It will not be the same,” the one called Franny bemoaned. “It will not be the same…”
Their voices faded away as they turned a corner and Leonard stared after them for a time. They had not looked familiar in the least but Leonard could not still the notion that he had known the honey-voiced girl.
Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.
Momentarily, Leonard considered he was taking leave of his wits, first with his desire to attend the wedding and then with him staring after a faceless woman.
“Are you well?” Catherine asked. She had appeared unexpectedly at his side and her words caused him to jump. He had been entranced by the sight of the girl.
“Yes, of course,” he replied. “Have you finished? We should return to the manor. We have much to do before we leave in the morning.”
There was a newfound urgency in him and he hurried his sister back to their coach. If the woman he had glimpsed was a noble, she would likely be at the wedding in Fife and suddenly Leonard knew there was no place else he wished to be more, if only to catch one look of her face.
Chapter 4
Frances’ mood had not improved throughout the journey to Fife, despite the family’s best efforts to alleviate her gloom. It was not until the coach-and-six arrived at the sprawling estate that she began to perk up.
“Heavens!” she gasped, pointing at gaily lit manor house. “The party has already commenced!”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied and stifled a yawn with her gloved hand. They had been traveling throughout the evening, and the hour was late. Still, she noted that her sister was right. Guests milled about the lush lawn, a boisterous mash of loud laughter and music. As the coach pulled to a stop, they were immediately met by three servant boys who helped them from the carriage and tended to their belongings.
“What a spectacle,” Elizabeth’s father grunted but when she peered at him, she saw that he looked to be as impressed as she felt. “What a terrible waste of good money.”
“It is romantic, Father,” Frances insisted, gathering her full gown into a hand to avoid tripping. “When I marry, I wish it to be as lovely!”
Elizabeth and her father exchanged a sad glance. There would not be a wedding for the oldest Follett child but no one had the heart to speak the words aloud. Frances did not require a reply and she turned to David excitedly.
“Come, brother. Let us dance!”
“Frances, you must exercise patience!” Lord Gordon called to his eldest daughter. “Moreover, I am not certain it is appropriate in this instance to flitter about dancing.”
Frances stopped in her tracks and stared at the Viscount blankly.
“Why Father?” she asked innocently and Elizabeth could not help but smile. Despite her age of four-and-twenty, she was far too simple to appreciate the proper way of doing things. Lord Gordon was saved from responding as a dapper man appeared, his black high hat dipping over his brow to shadow his eyes. Elizabeth could see the harried expression on his face and she guessed him to be the house secretary.
“Name and invitation,” he intoned, extending his white-gloved hand.
“Percival, Viscount of Gordon and family. Son, Mr. David Follett, daughters, Miss Frances Follett and Miss Elizabeth Follett,” Lord Gordon replied as he retrieved the creased message from the inside of his vest. He handed the house secretary the invitation.
“Welcome, Lord Gordon, Mr. Follett, Miss Follett, Miss Elizabeth,” he said curtly. He read the invitation with such disinterest, Elizabeth wondered if he had managed to peruse the words at all. Elizabeth felt decidedly unwelcome by his cold statement. The secretary glanced upward from the page and stared at them with cold eyes.
“The steward will show you to your quarters if you desire to rest. There is a banquet laid out in the dining hall should you be hungry and drinks should you care to quench your thirst. If you require anything else, have the servants attend to you.”
He spoke with such little emotion, Elizabeth was struck pondering how many times he had uttered the same words over the past day. Surely the guests had been arriving in hordes and the man was exhausted. A pang of sympathy touched her. Abruptly the secretary turned, eyes gazing about the long line of coaches and horses to see whom else demanded his attention. He released a tired sigh of upset.
“If there is nothing else, Joseph will see you to your quarters.”
He snapped his fingers and a young boy shuffled forward to reach for the trunks the family had brought for the wedding.
“Father, may I dance now?” Frances pleaded. “I have exercised my patience as you asked.”
Lord Gordon grunted slightly but Elizabeth could see he was going to relent.
“David, will you mind your sister?” he asked relentingly. “I daresay I am much too fatigued to observe her wanderings this evening.”
“Of course,” David replied although Elizabeth could see he was equally exhausted by the journey.
“I will stay with Frances, Father,” she volunteered. “I would not mind exploring the estate. The Baron is rumored to have a fine art collection which I care to see.”
