The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (14 page)

She nodded weakly as she acknowledged that a part of her was disappointed, as she wanted to show off her hostess skills to her new mother-in-law.

“In another month or so, we can have another dinner party,” Edward assured her. “This time we will invite only family, and hopefully by then little Richie will be old enough to come and spend time here too. We will arrange to have them stay the night.” She watched as he searched her face for signs that he was convincing her. “That would be much better, wouldn’t it?”

Frances shrugged. The disappointment was now sinking in. She would simply have to content herself with the fact that her first dinner party would not include any of her new in-laws. “Yes, I suppose so,” she conceded.

He chuckled and pulled her into an embrace. Frances relaxed in his arms. It was the only place in which she felt safe. As he held her there, she wondered why she wanted Edward’s family present.
Frances Emberton, get hold of yourself! You are throwing a dinner party for important people, and it is going to be rather grand indeed
. She allowed that thought to blossom and felt the excitement rise within her again.

“Right!” she said with renewed vigour dancing in her eyes. “Let’s have tea, and we can start to write out that list.” She turned around twisting out of her husband’s embrace and marched towards the drawing room. “I need to get those invitations out as soon as possible, Edward, or we will have no guests at all for this extravagant dinner party we are throwing!”

She could hear Edward laugh as he followed her into the room, fetching paper, ink, and a pen from the writing desk before sitting down on the settee.

Frances tugged the bell pull and then joined her husband upon the settee. “The first name we can add is my father.” She watched with satisfaction as Edward wrote and the nib scratched onto the paper
Lord Ronald Davenport
.

Edward’s list was longer than Frances anticipated. She thanked God for Edward’s foresight in buying a house large enough to accommodate so many guests, and for buying a table big enough to seat so many.

Chapter Seventeen

The two weeks running up
to the event passed in a whirl for Frances. When the day finally dawned bright and clear, she almost leapt out of bed, having barely slept a wink all night thinking of the myriad of things still left to do and organise.

A steady stream of tradesmen arrived at the house bringing fish, meat, and vegetables boxes filled with produce both familiar and new to Frances. Then came the flowers. She was in absolute ecstasy seeing the wonderful blooms they had shipped in from across the English Channel. Flowers that were now out of season in England but seeing the end of their season in Holland filled the house with the most beautiful aromas.

As the afternoon sped along, Frances began to be filled with an anxiety bordering on terror that she had never experienced before. She was not used to such emotions. At both of her father’s houses, Frances was comfortable. She had grown up in those houses. When she arranged soirées or dinner parties for her father, familiarity served her well. At Sandon Place, everything was new—the house, her husband, her role. This was the first of many dinner parties she hoped to see in her new home as Edward’s wife, and it had to come off perfectly.

A wave of nausea and dizziness hit her, and Frances knew she had to escape for a few moments, take time to clear her head and calm her nerves. She headed out of the dining room, down through the back of the hallway, and out into the gardens.

Edward had made many improvements to them, and when he was home, he enjoyed pottering about and even planting some specimens himself. She found him fussing over and clipping his favourite bay tree.

He looked up as she approached. “Frances, is everything all right?” looking at her with concern as he stretched out his back after bending over for so long.

“Everything is quite all right. It’s just beginning to dawn on me the importance of this evening.” Her voice shook with emotion as she tried to express how she was feeling.

Edward stepped towards her and placed his gardening gloved-hand upon her shoulder, being careful not to get any soil upon her dress. “What is it? What has you feeling so emotional, my dear?” Ever so gently, Edward led her to sit upon the balustrade wall.

Frances heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths of the chilly air. “I can’t quite put my finger on it,” she breathed with her eyes still shut. “I suspect it is all to do with the fact that this is the first event to be held in our new home and I must make a good impression.” She opened her eyes and turned to gaze sadly at her husband. “I fear making a shambles of it and letting you down, Edward.”

The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile, and Edward slipped the gloves from his fingers. He reached over and took hold of Frances’ hands, gently stroking the delicate skin on the backs with his thumbs. “I fear you worry too much, Frances.”

Frances closed her eyes and laughed the air out through her nose. She leaned her head forward until their foreheads touched. It was only a small intimacy, but it felt as though she embraced him, body and soul. It was precisely what she needed at that moment. Just that small connection with the man that meant so much to her seemed to chase all her troubles away and still her heart. They remained thusly for a few moments until Frances shivered.

“You’re getting cold.” Edward tilted his head back and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You had better get back inside. Perhaps you can ask your maid to draw you a bath.” As she began to protest, he quickly interjected, “It will be some time before the water is hot enough and the hip-bath is filled, during which you can flit about for a little more to assure yourself everything is prepared.”

“Come along,” he insisted as he stood up, placing his hand in the small of her back and applying a little pressure. “I’ll join you in a few minutes. I just have to finish up here, and then I too have to wash up for tonight.”

Frances was reluctant to agree to his suggestion, but she knew he was right. A hot bath was just the solution to calm her enough for the evening’s event. Everything else was ready—her dress, shoes, gloves. She even had a selection of ornaments she would like to try for her hair, including the little tiara she wore on their wedding day after they had returned to the house in Mayfair and her bonnet had been laid aside.

When she was back inside the warmth of the house, Frances made one last visual check on everything. She quickly popped down to the kitchens to make certain all ran smoothly and there were no problems she was needed for. She returned to the dining room and was making a few suggestions on some changes when her maid, Jeanette, informed her that her bathwater was ready. She made her way up to her bedroom and, with great relief, closed the door upon all the hustle and bustle.

One look at the brass hip-bath before the blazing fire and Frances sighed, hurriedly helping Jeanette with the undressing so she could step into the inviting, steaming water.

* * * *

The swell of pride that expanded Edward’s heart in his chest as he watched his beautiful new bride, Frances, glide gracefully down the grand staircase as his guests milled around conversing to each other could not be measured. She looked even more resplendent in her grey satin gown than she had on their wedding day. Edward could not believe that his love for Frances could increase exponentially every day, but it did.

The smile he wore started in his heart, spread across his face, from ear to ear, and then radiated throughout the room. Frances kept her gaze steadily upon him as she descended.

It was then that Edward realised she was the perfectly suitable woman for him. No other would have made him feel the way she did. It mattered not to him that she had a chequered past. She delighted him entirely, and he adored her wholly. No one else would have suited him.

He held out his left arm for her to take as she reached the bottom of the staircase, and as she slipped her arm around his, he whispered, “I scarcely believe my own eyes, for you look lovelier tonight than ever.”

Edward was rewarded by the smile of pure satisfaction that spread across Frances’ face. “Thank you,” she replied giving his arm a little squeeze.

“Ah, now!” Lord Davenport’s voice bellowed across the space. “There she is! Doesn’t she look ravishing?” he asked to the whole assembly.

Edward noticed that Frances did not blush at his compliment, merely inclined her head to accept it.

She caught him looking at her quizzically and explained in a whisper, “His words are mere flattery; they do not hold the sincerity that yours do.”

He thought upon her comment as he led her proudly into the drawing room, followed by their guests. “You do not like flattery?” he asked.

“On the contrary, I like it very much. I simply prefer it to come with honesty.”

“Oh, I see. I shall endeavour to ensure that every time I flatter you, I do it honestly and sincerely,” he replied, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips belying his solemn bow.

Frances’ giggle tinkled around the room, high above the baritone chatter of the assembled gentlemen. It was music to his ears.

As her father approached them, Edward made his excuses to greet other guests in order extricate himself from his wife’s side. He had discovered that in other company Lord Davenport’s behaviour was rather brash, which often made Edward feel uncomfortable. He gratefully, and somewhat guiltily, passed his wife into the good care of her father, making a mental note to apologise for that later. Edward knew from whispered late-night confidences that Frances’ relationship with her father was not entirely harmonious. He was very demanding and she was headstrong; there were bound to be many clashes of personality.

Turning around, Edward spied one of the men who inspired him greatly, Mr Thomas Clarkson.

As Edward made his way towards Clarkson, the older gentleman looked up and smiled warmly in greeting. “Emberton, how jolly pleasant this all is!” he waved his hand holding a glass of wine, indicating the drawing room.

“I’m honoured that you like it, Mr Clarkson.” Edward bowed in greeting.

“It’s a splendid place, and you’ve worked wonders with it. I remember it was just a little shy of derelict when you moved here, wasn’t it?” he chortled.

“Yes,” Edward reddened, “it was.”

“You’re a miracle worker then! This room is fabulous. And,” he lowered his voice as though telling a great secret, “I stuck my head in through the dining room door and…” his eyes flitted past Edward and to the door. “My word!” Mr Clarkson gasped. “He’s come!”

For the briefest of moments, Edward was bewildered by the abrupt change of subject. His mind still lingered on the dining room, but following Mr Clarkson’s gaze, Edward looked behind and he too gasped.

There, walking in through the door, and looking frailer than Edward had ever seen him due to recent illness, was none other than William Wilberforce himself. For a couple of seconds, Edward stood rooted to the floor, overcome by such an honour. Quickly collecting himself, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, his hand outstretched in greeting, a smile firmly planted on his face.
Don’t look like a complete nincompoop, Edward!
he chided himself.

“Mr Wilberforce, I am so pleased you could come!” Edward tried not to fawn over the man, but to him Wilberforce was a hero and, having never had the opportunity to speak with him face-to-face, Edward was overwhelmed.

“Why, thank you, Emberton.” The older man took Edward’s hand and shook it with a firm grip that belied his fragile state. “I wasn’t all that convinced I would make it, to be honest.” He looked around at all the smiling faces, whose owners waved, nodded, and bowed their greetings. “But now that I’ve made the effort, I am glad I have.”

“As am I, sir.” Edward led Wilberforce to the armchair nearest the fire. “Might I offer you a drink?”

“Oh, only a small glass of something to warm me after the journey from London,” Wilberforce acquiesced.

Edward ordered a small brandy from a footman. “I trust the journey was well.”
Why can I not ask something better than that?

“Tolerably,” Wilberforce nodded.

Edward then ran out of things to say. He tried to think of something, anything, that might be of interest to his idol, but his mind drew a blank.

It was Wilberforce who broke the awkward silence. “You invited him, did you?” he asked with a steely edge to his voice as he sipped at the brandy in his hand, his gaze fixed on a point at the other end of the room.

“Hmm?” Edward, confused by the question, glanced in the direction of Wilberforce’s glower. “Lord Davenport? My father-in-law, you mean?”

Wilberforce looked Edward directly in the eye. “I heard rumours of your marriage while I was abed with the sickness.” He pursed his lips as his eyes flitted back toward Davenport.

“Yes, to his only daughter, Frances.” Edward beamed with pride and happiness.

Wilberforce snapped his head back and fixed Edward with a withering stare. “I just hope you know you’ve invited a serpent to dine with us.”

The dinner gong sounded at that precise moment, leaving Edward wondering what on earth Wilberforce was talking about.

As the guests filed out, Edward held back a little and waited for Frances to come alongside him.

“So that is the famous William Wilberforce, is it?” she murmured in his ear as he led her out of the drawing room, across the hallway, and towards the dining room.

“It is indeed, my dear. I cannot tell you what an honour it is to have him here in our house. It is as though,” Edward spoke excitedly, “he's setting the seal on my acceptance into his group of friends. I am truly humbled.”

“I can see that perfectly,” Frances giggled at him. “You are awed by him, are you not?”

“Yes, I am. He is a man of outstanding character.” He turned to look at her, unaware of how much his face glowed with passion and excitement. “If I could be half the man he is, I would be very content indeed.”

“Oh, Edward!” Frances squeezed his arm and patted him gently. “Do you still not see what an outstanding man you are yourself?” She smiled at him lovingly as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit before tucking it in and pushing it back towards the table.

He was not entirely convinced of that, but the depth of her conviction shown in her face; she thought he was an outstanding man. His heart swelled love for her again.
I pray you always have this effect on me, my darling Frances.

Edward made his way to his chair at the other end of the table, allowed the footman to pull it out for him, and seated himself as his guests did likewise. He looked down the length of the table. They were twenty in all, and Edward was overcome with pride and elation at the thought of what this moment meant, their first dinner party, every invitee replied in the positive, all were present, including William Wilberforce.
Yes
, Edward thought,
this truly does announce that I have finally arrived.

He looked down the table at each of his guests as the butler and footmen brought in the platters of food Frances had carefully selected. Edward felt he was on the edge of something big, the beginning of the rise of his career. He smiled to himself as Stainton served him from the soup tureen. He had always loved white soup and was glad Frances chose this particular recipe. It was sure to go down well.