Page 43 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
When Leonard first learned about the incident, Elizabeth had seen a fire flame in his eyes but he was surprisingly calm when he spoke. And when he did speak, it was to calm Frances.
“Miss Follett, I understand why you are so distraught,” he told her, calmly escorting Frances through the manor and into the sitting room. He then requested that Beatrice fetch her warm milk. The rest of the household followed the pair inside, watching silently, as Frances continued to protest. Elizabeth felt a wave of pity for Herbert who stood by watching uncomfortably. She sensed he wanted to throw his arms around her panicked sister but dared not.
“She had terrible eyes and a shrill, high voice!” Frances wailed. “She told us we were going to pay! I haven’t any money!”
“There there,” the Duke told her soothingly and sat her on an elegant wing chair. “I know precisely who she is and I concur, she does sound quite frightful when she is upset. But you must know that you are under my protection in the duchy, Miss Follett. Do you understand what that means?”
Elizabeth was unsure Frances would be easily placated but to her amazement, France relaxed slightly and peered at the duke questioningly.
“That you will keep me safe?” she sniffled.
“Precisely!” Leonard agreed, smiling his charismatic grin. “I will not permit anything to happen to you or your family while you are here. Moreover, if you leave here, I will be insurmountably sad. You have only just arrived, after all.”
Frances regarded him uncertainly.
“But-- but what if she comes here?” she breathed. “What if she comes to follow through on her threat?”
“I would like to see her venture,” Catherine growled. Leonard shot her a reproving look.
“I promise you, Miss Follett, on my honor as a duke, you have nothing to fear from Miss Priscilla. Do you believe my word?”
Frances nodded slowly and looked to her father. His face was grim but he managed a small smile of comfort for her.
“Father, what say you?”
“I say we must trust a man when he gives us his word,” Percival offered smoothly and Elizabeth exhaled. She had not realized she had forgotten to breathe but she saw just how nervous she had been that her father might decide to return home. Frances’ well-being was paramount, after all and if she was in a state of frenzy, she would be impossible to comfort.
Or perhaps Leonard has a special tactic for calming hysterical women.
Beatrice returned from the kitchen with the warm milk and almonds for Frances to consume.
“I did wish to save this for a more festive occasion,” Catherine added, seeing that the worst was over. She moved forward and produced a bag she had concealed among her skirts.
“What is it?” Frances demanded, reaching for it eagerly.
“Frances, mind your manners!” Percival and Elizabeth chimed in exasperated unison. The oldest Follett child did not heed them and she snatched the package from Catherine’s hands. Elizabeth already knew it had to be the headdress Frances had admired and she glanced at Catherine. The lady was far too focussed on Frances to notice Elizabeth’s stare and a bubble of glee escaped Frances’ lips and filled the room when she saw what she held in her hands.
“Oh, thank you, Lady Catherine!” she squealed, jumping up to embrace the Duke’s sister. “Thank you!”
“Frances!” Elizabeth gasped, paling at the inappropriateness of the gesture but Catherine did not seem bothered nor did her brother find it uncouth. Frances whipped her head around toward Herbert who was fraught with concern.
“You will help me put this on, will you not, Mr. Barlough?” she demanded. Elizabeth felt all the blood drain from her face but she dared not change her sister’s good mood, not when it had so nearly gone the other way.
“Leave her be,” Leonard murmured. “She is doing no one any harm. Even your father is not admonishing her.”
“That is because he fears she will have a change of heart at any second,” Elizabeth breathed but she was grateful she had his blessing to allow Frances to proceed with her waywardness.
“Come along now,” Leonard announced. “We shall bathe and dress for supper and I will tell you about our tales of bravery in the woods.”
“But what of my milk and almonds?” Frances protested.
“Beatrice will bring them to your chambers,” Leonard answered without hesitation. “Perhaps she will find you some cheese also.”
“Oh, yes, please!” Frances gasped and Elizabeth could see that whatever upset had plagued her had fully passed. There would be no more talk about the bad woman with the shrill voice.
Elizabeth watched as Leonard ushered everyone from the sitting room but she did not move. She could see that he was not finished speaking with her but even if he had not, she found herself slightly stunned by what she had witnessed.
He recalled that Frances has a penchant for cheese. He spoke to her like an equal, a person, not a petulant child the way anyone else in his position might have.
