“So, you don’t trust me then?” Luke spat out, suddenly angry. “You give yourself to me, compromise your reputation, but you don’t trust me. You think that I would hurt you without the protection of your adopted father. Well, have you ever thought that you might be a burden to him, and he might be happy to marry you off?”
“Is that what you really think?” Frances asked, her face going pale.
“No, I don’t.” Luke grudgingly admitted.
“I know I’m only fifteen, but I am not as naïve as you believe me to be. I know that Hugo would like to see me married, but I very much doubt that he would want to see me travel thousands of miles to accomplish that. Lord and Lady Everly plan to return to England, and I would like to return with them, and live close to them once I have my own family. I’ve been alone for far too long, Luke, and I won’t be alone again. I won’t allow anyone to decide for me, not Hugo, and not you. I’m sorry if you are hurt, but I must do what’s best for me.”
With that, Frances bolted from the carriage, leaving Luke torn between anger and acute pain in the vicinity of his heart.
Chapter 42
I covered the chamber pot with a towel to contain the smell and handed it to Marthe before turning my attention back to Frances. She was white as a sheet, her forehead clammy to the touch, and her eyes hooded with fatigue. Frances lay back on the pillows and focused on breathing, as I’d instructed her to do to keep the nausea at bay. Her hand went to her stomach as another wave assaulted her, but she managed not to be sick. She didn’t have anything left to vomit, since she couldn’t manage to keep anything down, not even broth.
When Frances first began to feel unwell a few days ago, I’d assumed that something hadn’t agreed with her, but if this were a case of food poisoning, it would have passed by now, and no one else in the house was sick. Frances seemed to feel better by midmorning, but ill again by the time she woke up. I could see the tension in her face and the fear in her eyes. She knew what I was thinking, and judging by her expression, I had every right to be concerned.
“Frances, when was your last monthly flow?” I asked carefully. I tracked mine carefully, but wasn’t sure if Frances did the same. Young girls were sometimes very sloppy about that kind of thing.
“It was in the middle of March,” Frances replied, wincing with worry.
“It’s the second week of May,” I stated unnecessarily. “You’re a month late.” Was it really possible? Hugo had made sure that Frances was chaperoned at all times. When and where could she have found the opportunity to be with someone? Of course, she hadn’t been as closely watched at Versailles, I thought, suddenly realizing that Luke must have taken advantage of the situation. I didn’t think that Frances would have initiated any kind of tryst; she was still too scarred from her experiences with Lionel Finch and the loss of her baby, but if the right amount of pressure were applied, I could see how she might have succumbed.
“Yes,” was all that Frances said before she turned away from me.
“Frances, look at me. Are you with child?” I asked sternly, praying that Frances would tell me that there was absolutely no chance she could be pregnant. Sometimes there were unexplained delays caused by anxiety or a change in diet even when there was no chance of pregnancy.
“Yes,” she said again. “I believe I am.”
“Who is the father, Frances?” I asked, horrified. “Is it Luke?”
Frances kept her face turned away from me, her lips compressed into a thin line. She didn’t wish to tell me, but she would tell Hugo. She worshipped Hugo, and wouldn’t be able to hold back from telling him. I sat by her side and waited patiently until the morning sickness passed, leaving Frances looking considerably better. Her color had improved, and she seemed to be hungry. She reached for her forgotten breakfast tray, eating the buttered roll in two bites and drinking the now cold chocolate.
“Frances, come downstairs with me, please,” I said, rising to my feet.
“You are going to tell him, aren’t you?” she asked, all hope gone from her voice. “He will be so angry,” she whispered as she turned her back to me to have her laces done up.
“I have no choice. Hugo is the head of this household, and he will decide what’s to be done.”
“I’m really sorry, Neve. You must believe me. I never meant for this to happen.”
“I know, love.” I couldn’t be angry with the girl. She looked so young and frightened that my heart went out to her. I’d never thought to educate her on ways of avoiding pregnancy, or even how babies were made. I suppose she knew the basic facts, but it would never have occurred to her to ask her lover to ensure that there were no consequences, although that in itself was a risky game. Many a woman had gotten pregnant anyway.
Hugo was in the library, composing a letter to his nephew. He’d written to Clarence several times, but still had not had a response. Hugo worried that Clarence blamed him for his mother’s suicide, and was willing to do anything to regain the boy’s trust. At the moment, the quill was suspended in midair, Hugo staring out the window at the glorious May morning rather than actually writing. He put down the quill and smiled brightly when we came in, but his expression quickly changed to one of dismay when he saw the solemn expression on our faces.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked as he jumped to his feet. “Is it Valentine?”
“No, Hugo, the baby is sleeping in the garden. Elodie is with her,” I hurried to assure him. He was always terrified that something would happen to Valentine, since the daughter he’d had with his first wife died in infancy before he ever saw her. She’d been passed off as his wife’s second husband’s child, but Hugo knew the truth, and grieved for the child he never met.
Hugo looked from me to Frances and back again, waiting for one of us to speak. Frances wasn’t about to do it, so I took it upon myself to share the news.
“It seems that Frances is with child,” I said quietly, wishing I could just take back the words and the fact. Hugo looked stricken as he stared at Frances.
“Is this true?” he breathed.
“I haven’t seen a midwife yet, but I think so,” Frances mumbled, all color draining from her face again. I hoped she wouldn’t be sick again since I had nothing to shove in front of her face should she vomit.
“Frances, who is the father?” Hugo asked calmly. I knew what it cost him not to lose his temper, but he spoke softly, so as not to intimidate the girl. He could see how frightened Frances was; she looked like she wished the floor would open up and just swallow her so she wouldn’t have to face Hugo’s anger.
“I can’t say,” Frances replied. She was clearly terrified, but was holding her ground.
“Frances, I need to know who the father is so that I can put this right. You must tell me.”
“I can’t,” Frances said again. She went even paler, and her eyes were downcast, but she wouldn’t be intimidated.
I saw the change come over Hugo’s face as he reacted to what Frances was saying. He clenched his fist, but forced himself not to say something he would regret.
“Sweetheart, has someone hurt you?” he asked gently. “Has some man forced himself on you?”
Frances shook her head miserably. She obviously hadn’t expected Hugo to come to that conclusion, but given her answers it was obvious that he’d think she either didn’t know the name of her assailant, or didn’t want to marry a man who’d assaulted her.
“No, Lord Everly, no one hurt me. I was a willing participant.”
“So why won’t you give me his name?” Hugo asked, exasperated. “Is it because you don’t wish to marry him?”
Frances just stared at the floor, seemingly rooted to the spot. Whatever her reasons, she wasn’t talking.
“The child is mine.”
I whirled around to see who was behind me, and was shocked to find that Archie had entered the study and was standing in the doorway, his face set in hard lines as he faced Hugo across the room.
“Frances, is that true?�
�� Hugo asked, still watching the girl. Frances gave a barely perceptible nod, which nearly sent Hugo over the edge.
“You dog,” he spat out at Archie, his eyes blazing with fury. “How dare you take advantage of this girl after what she’d been through? I should have you horsewhipped, but I owe you too much to see you debased that way. Get out of my sight. I will deal with you later,” Hugo roared.
Archie turned on his heel and strode from the room, but not before I saw the expression on his face. I was sure that he was lying, but whatever had made him claim responsibility wasn’t for me to question. Perhaps the child truly was his. After all, he and Frances spent time together unchaperoned, and they had ample opportunity to meet since they lived under the same roof. All Frances would have to do is sneak out of her room after everyone had gone to sleep and go to Archie’s bedroom on the third floor. No one would have paid any attention, and even if they had, they’d keep silent.
“Frances, please return to your room,” Hugo asked calmly, but I could see the tremor in his left hand as he hastily balled it into a fist. “I’d like to speak to my wife alone.”
Frances didn’t make eye contact as she scurried from the room; her head bent, and her eyes fixed on the floor. I couldn’t tell if she was relieved to be dismissed or burning with shame and regret. It was ironic to think that teenage girls were the same in every century, except in this time, they had fewer options. I tried not to think of a future in which Valentine was a defiant teenager, driving us to the brink of madness the way Frances was doing now, and she wasn’t even our own child. What would it feel like if it were our own daughter who’d dropped this kind of bombshell on us?
I closed the door behind the girl as Hugo sank back into the chair, his mouth drooping at the corners. He was upset rather than furious, which was probably a good thing, but I suddenly felt an overwhelming tenderness toward him. I walked around the desk and stood behind his chair with my arms around him. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“I know. I tried so hard to keep her safe, to give her a chance at a better future. And now she’s gone and ruined it all,” Hugo sighed. “She could have had a good life with Luke, but he won’t have her now, will he? Besides, Luke is preparing to leave for Constantinople. Did you know that?”
I hadn’t, but now wasn’t the time to be shocked by the news. “I’d hate for Frances to leave us,” I said. “We’d likely never seen her again if she went with Luke, and Turkey might not be the best place for a girl like Frances. She would feel completely isolated unless she struck up a friendship with some other diplomat’s wives.”
“You’re probably right, but she could have just rejected his offer rather than getting herself with child by Archie.” Hugo pulled me around and settled me on his lap. “I just don’t understand it, Neve. Archie is a good man. He’s always liked women, but he’s never involved himself with anyone who wasn’t willing and understood the ramifications. I’ve never known him to go with young maidens. Archie doesn’t want that type of commitment; he’d always said so. What would possess him to bed Frances?”
“Hugo, have you seen them together?” I asked, suddenly realizing something that had eluded me all this time. “He barely looks at her when she’s in the room for fear of his feelings showing in his eyes. And Frances has been avoiding him for about two months now. Perhaps they succumbed to a mutual passion and then realized their mistake and tried to stay away from each other. I do think he loves her though,” I mused.
“Well, it doesn’t much matter now. He’ll have to marry her. At least I know he’ll be good to her, and she won’t have to leave us after all.”
“No, I suppose not, but I have a feeling there’s more to this story.”
“Perhaps Frances should see a physician before any decisions are made. Could she be wrong about this?” Hugo asked hopefully.
“She could, but I think she probably isn’t. Women tend to be more fertile after getting pregnant the first time, so her body might have been ripe. And she wouldn’t know how to avoid pregnancy.”
“But Archie would,” Hugo protested. “I’ve never known him to get a woman with child. Or maybe he just never told me,” he conceded. “What a dreadful mess this is.”
Hugo suddenly looked stricken as he looked at me, his eyes opening wide. “Oh dear God, Neve, is this what we’re going to have to worry about once Valentine gets older? I’d never realized what it was like to have a daughter. I swear I’ll kill any man who so much as touches her hand,” he swore. “First Jane gets herself pregnant, and now Frances. Why can’t these girls keep their legs crossed until marriage?” he fumed.
“I was pregnant before we got married,” I gently reminded him.
“Yes, but I would have married you in a heartbeat had the circumstances been different. I was always going to take responsibility for you and our child; you know that.”
“I know, love,” I replied soothingly. I wrapped my arms around Hugo’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. His lips felt stiff against mine, but he began to relax and returned the kiss as he wrapped his arms tighter around me.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I was just taken unawares.”
“Weren’t we all?” Archie most of all, I thought.
Chapter 43
Frances found Archie in the stables, brushing down his favorite horse as he murmured endearments to the chestnut mare. He seemed to drop his gruff exterior around animals and children, allowing himself that which he couldn’t quite express to adults. Even Jem, who could drive the calmest of people to distraction, frequently got a kind word and a pat on the back from Archie, which was a feat. Archie didn’t turn around as Frances came in, but she could tell he was aware of her presence by the tensing of his shoulders and the defiant lift of the head. Archie stopped talking to the horse, but didn’t turn around to face her.
“Why did you do it, Archie?” she asked. “Why did you tell Lord Everly that the baby is yours?”
“To protect you,” he replied without turning.
“Protect me from what?”
“From whatever it is you are afraid of. You have your reasons for not revealing the father, so either you are frightened of him, or you just don’t want to compound your mistake by marrying him. By saying that the child is mine, I’ve given you a way out,” Archie replied.
“I don’t understand,” Frances replied, her frustration mounting. Archie was talking in riddles, as usual.
Archie finally turned around and faced her across the dim confines of the stable. “Frances, by coming forward as the father of your child, I’ve given you options. You can keep the child without marrying the father and later on claim that you’d married in France and your husband died. No one would be the wiser once we returned to England,” Archie explained patiently.
“So, you weren’t offering to marry me?” Frances asked, going from confusion to hurt. For a brief moment, she thought that Archie was declaring his feelings for her, but he was simply doing a favor for a friend, nothing more. He didn’t think that Lord Everly would approve of a marriage between them, so he was in no danger of ruining his own life. Hugo’s anger would subside eventually, and they would all go back to normal, except Frances, who would be pregnant and alone once more, her life no longer her own.
Archie looked momentarily confused by the question, as if the thought had never occurred to him. Was she really that repugnant to him? Frances leaned against the side of the stall, suddenly feeling like her legs wouldn’t hold her up for much longer. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the stables, leaving her in some kind of vacuum with this man who wanted no part of her, and made a gallant gesture knowing there would be no long-term repercussions to himself.
Archie was by her side in a moment, lifting her into his arms in case she fainted, and carrying her out of the stall toward a bale of hay by the door where the air was fresher. Archie sat down on the hay and settled Frances on his lap. He brushed a strand of hair out of Frances’s eyes and finally looked her full in the fa
ce in the dim light of the stables. The truth of what she was feeling was finally starting to dawn on him, and he lowered his eyes for a moment to compose his reply, likely one which would be a rejection coated in pretty words.
“Frances,” he began patiently, “I would marry you tomorrow if that’s what you truly wanted, but I’m a decade older than you, have dallied with a string of women, and have nothing to offer you other than a life of uncertainty and hardship. Why would you want to marry the likes of me, unless you simply wanted a father for your baby?”
“You would marry me tomorrow?” Frances repeated, a shy smile spreading across her face.
“That’s the only thing you picked up on from what I just said?” Archie asked, his eyebrows shooting up with incredulity.
“Yes,” Frances replied simply. “Why? Why would you marry me, Archie?” she demanded.
“Because I love you, you stupid girl,” he exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you when you fainted in my arms the day Hugo abducted you from your husband. You were battered and bruised, and barely conscious, and all I wanted to do was to hold you and look after you -– and love you. I felt a damn fool, panting after someone else’s fourteen-year-old wife, but there you have it.”
“Why have you never said anything?” Frances asked, bemused. She was no longer pale and faint, but flushed and glowing with happiness.
“When was I supposed to say it?” Archie demanded. “When you just lost your baby? Or when you were so frightened of me you were ready to walk to Portsmouth rather than ride on the same horse? Or when I was chaperoning your outings with a prospective suitor who could offer you a life of safety and comfort? There was never a right moment, and I was grateful for that, for what I had to say to you had no business being said in the first place.”
“I came to you, Archie. I offered myself to you,” Frances argued, now really annoyed. Why were men so obtuse?
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