Page 80 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“No, Frances. It is the Duke. May I enter?”
There was a deep silence and Leonard waited patiently but after a few moments, she did not appear. He knocked on the door again.
“Frances?”
“Go away!”
The intensity of her anger troubled him and Leonard stood in the corridor, confused.
“Frances, please. I know you are angry with me because I have not come to see you but I assure you, I have been completely focussed on getting Elizabeth home safely.”
Without warning, the door swung inward and Leonard was shocked at what he saw. Frances was a fright, her long, chestnut hair matted and unwashed, her hazel eyes haunted and encircled in black. She fit the pattern of everyone else in the household, to lay unsleeping, and taking leave of her faculties more with each passing minute.
“I do not care about your visits!” she hissed. “I know what you have done!”
Leonard gaped at the woman as she backed away from the door, dressed only in her undergarments, which he was certain she had not changed in days. She appeared a feral animal, prowling about her vast chambers, casting him furious looks.
“What have I done?” he asked uncomprehendingly as he remained in the doorway. He was unsure if she had a propensity for violence but in that moment, he was certain she would strike him.
“You!” she spat. “You called us from the gala! It is your fault that Liza has been taken! You have arranged for this to happen!”
“I, I haven’t a clue what you mean,” Leonard told her, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing in consternation. “Frances, do look at me and tell me what the meaning of this is.”
“You know what you did!” she yelled at him. “This is your fault! Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!”
On and on she continued to chant, spinning to point a finger whose nail had been bitten to the quick.
“Your Grace,” Herbert called urgently from the hall. “You must leave her before she loses all control. If she does…”
Leonard did not need for him to finish the thought—he vividly recalled how upset Frances had become after the encounter with Priscilla. She was twice as agitated as she had been on that day. Reluctantly, Leonard backed out of the apartment and permitted Herbert inside.
“There, there, Miss Follett,” the barrister murmured to her tenderly. “We have discussed this many times. His Grace did not have any part in Miss Elizabeth’s situation.”
“He did!” Frances screamed. “If he had not called us away from the gala none of this would have happened! He planned it! He did!”
“Herbert, what is she saying?” Leonard demanded. “I did not call them away.”
The older man gave the Duke a look to say it was not the time for such a discussion but Leonard knew he needed to understand what Frances meant. It was clear that the oldest Follett sibling would be of no help in the matter, not in her current state but Catherine might know. He rushed down to the main floor and confronted his sister.
“Why does Frances believe I called you away from the gala that night?” he asked without preamble. “She blames me for Elizabeth’s kidnapping.”
Catherine grunted softly and lowered her head, a blonde strand falling over cheek.
“I know,” she sighed. “It was what Elizabeth told her to keep her from having a fit when we left that night. She said that you had sent word and that we needed to return to Brookside at once.”
“Because of Miss Priscilla and Lord Cooke?”
“Yes,” Catherine replied. “It matters not what we tell her, Herbert and I. Her mind is not fully formed and she remains convinced you were a party to the kidnapping.”
“That is absurd! What possible benefit would I have to such an atrocious act?”
“She means no harm, Leo. She is scared for her sister and has the faculties of a small child. She cannot be faulted for her beliefs. Yet that is the reason Herbert has kept her mostly in her chambers. He knew she would confront you when she saw you.”
“Nonsense!” Leonard snapped. “She cannot be kept like a prisoner while she is suffering.”
A faint, wistful smile touched Catherine’s mouth and she shook her head.
“Herbert is keeping her entertained, I assure you. She is not locked in and she has shown little desire to leave the confines of her chambers. Her meals are brought to her. Herbert visits her often, reading to her and oftentimes simply talking her to sleep. He adores her and I daresay if not for him, I do not know how she would have fared. Even her father and brother do not provide her as much comfort. I believe that Frances fancies her chambers as a cocoon, not unalike the womb. She is coping the best way she knows how.”
