The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (16 page)

“There's no time for that nonsense now. Can't you see your wife is in distress?” his lordship replied.

Edward could not see Frances at all, for her father's ample frame shielded her from his view. He sidestepped and looked around his father-in-law to see that she wept silently into her handkerchief. His heart lurched, and he bounded forward, pulling her out of the chair and enfolding her into his arms, where she wept bitterly into his shoulder. He had been so wrapped up with Kirby, his guests leaving, and the mysterious warning that he’d forgotten Frances and how this had to have affected her.  He feebly tried to console her.

“I am so sorry, Edward,” she wept.

Edward ran his hand through her beautifully curled hair. “It's all right. I don't blame you, Frances.”

Still she continued to weep. “But all our guests are gone! I ruined our evening!”

Edward felt the sting of that statement. The evening was indeed ruined, but he did not blame Frances. She wasn’t responsible for Kirby’s actions. “It's not your fault, my love.”

“Oh! Save me from those platitudes!” exclaimed Lord Davenport, his momentary concern for his daughter’s feelings having passed. “The lass is right. The evening is ruined.”

Edward sighed in exasperation. “That is hardly helpful.”

“Be that as it may,” his lordship continued, lighting one of his fat cigars from a candle in a three-armed silver candelabra upon the table. “It does not change the fact your guests have gone and your chances of getting them to ever come back here, even for cocktails, are very slim indeed.”

Edward could have thrown something at his father-in-law for saying that. His words caused Frances to sob harder. “Please. Think of Frances,” Edward pleaded.

His lordship sneered. “You don't see the bigger picture, do you, Emberton?”

Nonplussed, Edward glowered at his father-in-law.

“Because of Frances here,” he poked his cigar in her direction and puffed out a cloud of smoke, “your chances of getting in Wilberforce's inner circle are now shot to pieces.”

“I am well aware of that,” Edward muttered with a heavy heart, wondering if this also spelt the end of his career.

“You are of no use to me if that's the case!” His lordship coughed.

Edward did not catch all of what he said. “No use?”

Lord Davenport stopped coughing from his own cigar and replied, “That is what I said. You are no good to me if that's the case.”

“I don't follow you.”

Frances pulled away from her husband slightly. “Papa, please don't!”

“What? What's going on?” Kirby’s words and the reliable heaviness in the pit of his stomach melded together, ringing warning bells in Edward’s head.

“Don't you see?” Frances asked him, her tears still rolling down her face. “Don't you see what he's doing?”

Edward stared at her blankly, knowing there was some truth just out of his reach.

She gripped hold of the sleeve on his long dinner jacket and shook it in desperation. “He's using you!”

Edward glared at his father-in-law, anger and alarm vying for a position of prominence. “What is she talking about?”

“I was dead right about you, Emberton,” Lord Davenport replied with something akin to triumph plastered across his face as he trudged towards the door on his way out. “You really are a soft touch,” he chuckled.

Edward’s suspicions loomed large, no longer niggling doubts. “Tell me what you're talking about! Now!” he blasted.

This stopped Lord Davenport in his tracks. The old man turned around and fixed Edward with a stony scowl. “I don't much care for your tone of voice, young man. If I were you, I would not use that tone with me again.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to make an impression on his son-in-law. “I might as well tell you it all now, seeing as my stupid daughter may have well gone and ruined everything anyway.”

Edward furrowed his brow feeling weak and helpless.

“She's right. I was using you,” his lordship said jubilantly and puffed on his cigar. “You were putty in my hands, Emberton. You did everything I asked you to, just like a puppet on a string.” He laughed viciously.

Edward’s heart sank down into his boots. He knew now why Lord Davenport wanted to know every single minute detail of every conversation he had with those who supported William Wilberforce's cause. “You wanted to…” His throat tightened and clamped around the words and he could not say them.

“Of course. I want to undermine your cause!” He continued to sneer at Edward. “Believe it or not, Emberton, there are quite a lot of powerful men in this great country of ours who rely on the slave trade. None of us want it abolished. I did what I had to do to undermine the abolitionists’ cause, and I would do it again.”

Edward felt as though he had been slapped around the face. “You're not for the abolition?”

Lord Davenport's laughter was cutting. “Of course I'm blasted well not! Only a fool would cast their lot with you all! You will never see the abolition of slavery in this country, Emberton!”

“Oh, yes, we will!” Edward spat back furiously.

“Huh! Not in my lifetime, you won't!” His lordship turned on his heel and marched out of the house. At that moment Edward hoped he'd marched out of their lives for good.

They stood motionless in the dining room. Edward was aware that Frances was beside him, her hands clapped over her mouth, staring at him in a blend of shock, disbelief, and fear. It took him a minute or two before he could look at her.

“Oh, dear God! I am so sorry. He swore me to secrecy when I found out.”

Edward did not know what hurt more, being used by his father-in-law, being the possible single cause for the failure of the abolition of slavery, or his wife having known all about it and not confiding in him.

He could not speak to her. Not right now. His heart was too heavy, and it hurt far too much. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to work out the way forward from here. Slowly Edward made his way out of the dining room and towards his study. He closed the door behind him and thanked God he’d had a lock installed in the door. He turned the key just as he heard Frances’ footsteps running along the hallway after him.

“Edward?” She tapped gently on the door.

He ignored her. He could not bear to speak to her now. He feared if he did, he would say something he would live to regret. He turned and made his way to the fireplace and slumped down heavily into his leather chair.

Chapter Eighteen

“Edward?” Once again, Frances tapped
on the door to Edward’s study. She felt desperate and overly emotional. She wanted to scream out and demand that Edward open the door, but she knew she would be making the situation far worse than it already was.

She had been horrified when she heard the sound of James Kirby's voice out in the hallway. After all the preparation she had put into arranging the dinner party, her worst nightmare had come true. She could not believe he would be so stupid as to not only defy her father but to arrive at Sandon Place, where she lived with her husband, and make such a scene. When he grasped hold of her and Edward came to her rescue, an ugly scene becoming even uglier, Frances could only pray for the ground to open up and swallow her. She had never been more embarrassed in her entire life.

When she was younger and she misbehaved, her governess used to say, “Be careful, for your sins will find you out.” How true she knew that to be now. Frances Emberton was who she was now. There was no changing that. She could not travel into the past and become a virtuous young lady any more than she could change the fact that her father was a devious and manipulative scoundrel.

She tapped on the study door again. “Edward, please talk to me.” She was well aware how pathetic she sounded, but she cared not. All she wanted was to make things right with her husband. She wanted him to not be angry with her. She wanted him to say that all would be well and that she was forgiven.

As the silence stretched on, Frances knew Edward would not open the door and speak to her that night. Her heart squeezed with the pain. Reluctantly, she made her way up to her bedroom, not looking at Stainton, who tried his best to catch her attention. “Just clear it all away, Stainton,” she mumbled as she climbed the stairs.

Once she entered the bedroom, she slipped out of her gown, leaving it on the floor as she walked with a heavy heart over to the bed and slipped beneath the sheets. She turned over on to her right side and hugged the feather pillow. She let the tears flow freely, burying her face into the soft pillowcase. She cried out into the pillow, “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Frances did not know when the tears subsided and sleep claimed her from exhaustion.

* * * *

Edward woke up somewhere around half past three in the morning. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and could just make out the hands in the moonlight. He shivered. The room was cold and there was no fire in the grate.

He stretched out his stiff limbs and sat up in the chair, touching his bruised nose tentatively. He strained his ears for the slightest sound of movement in the house. Nothing moved; no one was awake. He was cold and a little hungry. Lifting himself up out of the chair, he shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and stepped out into the hallway. There were no candles lit; everyone was abed.

The moonlight streaming in through the windows that flanked the front door enabled Edward to see sufficiently and make his way to the dining room. Once inside, he was disappointed to see everything was cleared away. There was no food remaining. Going down to the kitchens in the dark was unappealing. He would just have to wait until the morning for breakfast. Edward turned around and slowly made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

He paused with one foot raised above the stair.
Frances
. The thought of her gave him a pang of guilt. He ought not to have left her to cry alone; she felt bad enough without him making things worse. He realised that his chances of advancing his career were likely dashed, but was becoming aware that there were more important things in life, such as his wife. He had been naïve in trusting Lord Davenport, he now knew, but he was churlish and should not have taken it out on the woman he loved.

He resumed climbing the stairs, feeling his life was in tatters. He did not care if he ever saw his father-in-law again. The way he had used him was indescribably appalling; the use of his own daughter in the dissimulation, disgusting.

The love he felt for Frances was strong, his contrition for his treatment of her earlier deep. He resolved that even if she was asleep, he would whisper an apology in her ear and hope she would accept it.

The bedroom door creaked as he opened it. He could have cursed at it. He wanted to wake Frances with his own apology, not the sound of a creaking door, giving the impression he was merely going to sneak in and slip into bed beside her.

As he approached the bed, he saw her stiffen. She was awake and knew he was there. In an instant, he decided to continue with his original plan. Quickly, he slipped off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and undid his shirt buttons. Undressing in haste was never as efficient as one hoped, and Edward fumbled with the buttons. Eventually, the shirt came off. He unbuttoned his britches, slipped them down to his ankles, and slid off his silk stockings. He lifted the corner of the sheets, slipped into the bed, and before Frances could turn over, he nuzzled up to her and whispered in her ear, “I am truly sorry. Forgive me.”

Frances rapidly twisted around in the bed, grabbed hold of him in the tightest embrace Edward ever felt, and she kissed him hard on the lips. “I love you, Edward, and it is I who am sorry.”

He watched the tears form along the bottom of her eyelids and smiled with deep affection. “Oh, how I love you, Frances Emberton.” He tilted his head forward and kissed her gently. Reluctantly, he parted from her soft mouth and asked, “We forgive each other, then?”

He watched the relief spread across her face and felt her body relax in his arms.

“Of course we forgive each other,” she said, kissing him again, and then slipping down into the sheets to rest her face against the downy hair of his chest. 

Chapter Nineteen

The following days and weeks
were difficult for the newlyweds, and for Edward especially. His mother wore a constant mask of
I told you so
but welcomed them into her home and even made an effort to get to know Frances better. Edward was at a loss to explain this sudden change in his mother’s behaviour until one day a conversation with his brother Richard over a game of chess shed light on the matter.

“We are dreadfully sorry that doors are still being shut for you, Edward.” Richard’s tone was sympathetic.

“I do not expect it to last forever.”

“I suppose it is like pulling teeth.”

“What do you mean?” Edward looked up at his older sibling as his knight took Richard’s pawn.

“It’s best to just endure it, for the pain will not last forever.”

Edward smiled ironically. “I suppose so.”

“It will not last forever, you know?”

He looked up and saw his brother staring at him. “I know. I just wish I could see something positive come out of all this mess, some silver lining.”

“Well,” Richard shrugged, “I can think of one thing.”

“You can? What?”

Richard laughed. “Oh, Edward, you can be such a simpleton!”

Edward kicked him under the table. Neither could ever resist the occasional foray into their old childish ways.

“Frances and Mama are becoming friends,” he explained.

He twisted in his seat and glanced over to where their mother and Frances were cooing over baby Richie in Grace’s arms. “Hmm…would you look at that!” he exclaimed, his voice low yet full of amazement.

“Did you not see it before now?”

“To be honest, I have wondered why Mama is making an effort. But as you say, watching them there, one would think they are fast friends.”

“I think they are most certainly on their way to becoming so,” Richard nodded.

“How so? Explain it to the simpleton.”

“Do you not realise?”

Edward crossed his arms and waited.

“They are united in their mutual dislike of Lord Davenport,” Richard chuckled.

Edward stared agape at his brother’s revelation. “That is what has brought them together?” He could not believe his ears.

“Indeed, it is!” Richard leant forward. “When Mama heard that Frances broke with her father, swearing to never see him again, she saw your wife in a whole new light.”

“You jest!”

“No, I do not! I swear it. Mama said that if Frances had the strength of character to do such a thing and stand by you, showing you her unwavering love and devotion, then there was certainly more to her than meets the eye.”

Edward gazed back across the room to Frances and their mother. There certainly was a camaraderie present that was not there before. “Perhaps Mama has seen something in Frances she had not previously perceived.”

“I would say that is so,” Richard answered matter-of-factly. “She never says anything derogatory about Frances now.”

“Why, it’s almost as though she approves of her!” Edward quipped, making his brother laugh. He hoped with all his heart and soul it was true. He loved Frances and knew how deeply she loved him in return. Edward wanted nothing more than for his family to be as close as they were before he met her, to be united and all be friends.

As he sat at the chess table and watched the women play with the babe, Edward knew that time would heal all wounds, that things would get better for them, and still more things would repair. He may not now have a chance at becoming Prime Minister of England, but at that moment he did not care. He had a great family, a wife he loved, and, hopefully in time, they would have children of their own. He had a future right there in that very room.  And it suited him fine.

~ The End ~