Breakfast at Midnight

by Fiona MacFarlane

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  An Announcement

  Frances did not return downstairs for the rest of the New Year’s celebrations; a fact that did not escape the collective attention of the Wintersleigh party. Her noticeable absence, had in fact, set the tongues of the party wagging, and no sooner had the ball guests left Wintersleigh, than they began speculating on Frances’s whereabouts, and, more importantly, on why she had left. George and Agnes, of course, were the only ones privy to the answers, but they were both determined to keep quiet.

  Frances was discovered by a servant, a short time later, soundly asleep on top of her bed, still dressed in her ball gown. Her slippers and jewellery were strewn carelessly about the floor, and even her tiny nosegay, once pinned to her gown, was now lying discarded amid its own broken petals on a nearby mantelpiece. This forlorn sight heightened the party’s curiosity, but it was late, or rather early in the morning, and everyone agreed that the question of Frances’s absence could wait until later in the morning. It was time for bed, and it was to their beds that they gratefully went.

  Frances did not appear at breakfast that morning, nor was she seen at morning tea. According to the servants, she had gone out for a ramble with her cousin Charlotte, and both women weren’t expected back until luncheon. Louisa seemed unconcerned by the length of Frances’s absence, and explained to Michael that it was not uncommon for Frances to go for long walks and rides by herself. In spite of Louisa’s explanation, Michael did not sway in his opinion. He sensed Frances’s unwillingness to be with the party, and vowed to speak with her as soon as she returned home.

  Unfortunately for Michael, he was summoned to one of his patients just before luncheon, and shortly after his departure from Wintersleigh, Frances returned from her walk. Michael’s patient, meanwhile, had taken a turn for the worst, which necessitated Michael’s attendance for the rest of New Year’s Day. It was only once he was safely back home at Rosewood, that he realised he hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with Frances. Again, he undertook to do this, as soon as he was able.

  When Frances woke the following morning she discovered a letter waiting for her on her bedside table. She knew exactly who this note was from, and as soon as her eyes had adjusted themselves to the morning light, she snatched the envelope, and tore it open with resolute fingers. In another moment she had greedily devoured the contents of the hand written message.

  This reply to her earlier letter was everything Frances had hoped for, yet everything she had ever feared. For some time after reading it she was divided between smiles and tears, but after a great deal of thought, she decided that the news was more favourable than unfavourable. Her only concern now was the effect this letter would have upon her aunt. She decided to break the news to Louisa immediately.

  Frances rose from her bed, dressed, then made her way down stairs. She soon discovered Louisa alone in the drawing room. After greeting her, Frances tentatively made her announcement. As she had expected, Louisa bore the news badly.

  ‘Leaving?’ Louisa shrieked. ‘What do you mean you are leaving Wintersleigh this morning?’

  ‘I think it’s time for me to move on.’

  ‘Move on?’ repeated her aunt, who at this point was beginning to look unsteady on her feet. ‘This is your home now, Frances. Why would you want to leave?’

  ‘I’ve given this a great deal of thought, Aunt Wentworth. As much as you’ve tried to make me feel welcome, I don’t belong here. I’m painfully aware of it.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense! Family is family, and you are part of it, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘I know, Aunt and I realise it. I’m very grateful for what this family has done for me.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Louisa retaliated. ‘And is this how you show your gratitude? By leaving me?’

  ‘Well, yes. I suppose it is. By leaving Wintersleigh, I’m making everyone’s life easier.’

  ‘And what makes you think that?’

  ‘Well for a start, Agnes’s wedding is next month. I’m sure I would only be in the way.’

  ‘An absurd assumption.’

  ‘And second,’ Frances went on, ‘by leaving you now, I would be causing you no further embarrassment.’ She hesitated. ‘I am, of course, referring to that episode at Rosewood, and the tennis match. Naturally these things were done unintentionally, but nevertheless, I’ve shamed you.’

  Louisa’s face darkened. ‘And what do you think you will be doing when you leave? What will everyone think when they discover that you have left?’ Her voice echoed around the room. ‘They will blame me for it, Frances! They will think that I drove you from the house!’

  ‘Then I’ll tell them it’s not so.’

  ‘I will never be able to live this down,’ Louisa remarked, paying no heed to Frances’s words. ‘Why could you not have discussed this with me first?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d disapprove.’

  ‘This is your revenge, isn’t it?’ Louisa asked after a pause. She continued to watch Frances with incisive eyes. ‘This is your revenge for the way I used to treat your mother.’

  ‘No,’ Frances said, rather too quickly. ‘It’s not revenge. I assure you that that is not my intention. By quitting Wintersleigh, I had hoped to lessen your embarrassment, not occasion it.’

  Louisa scoffed at this remark. ‘Since when have you had considerations for my feelings? You are a most self-centred, ungenerous and unfeeling girl, and I am wholeheartedly ashamed of you. My beloved Agnes would never do such a thing to me. Unlike you, she is an exceedingly dutiful and respectful daughter.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Do not interrupt me, Frances!’ Louisa barked. A long pause then ensued, in which time Louisa found herself a chair and collapsed into it. Closing her eyes, she drew one hand to her breast and the other to her head. ‘And where do you intend going?’ she asked, without opening her eyes. ‘Are you returning to your mother?’

  ‘No, I’m not. Mrs Edwina Ballard has offered me a situation at Riverview, and I’ve accepted it. The arrangements have just been finalised.’

  ‘Edwina!’ Louisa clamoured. She rose shakily to her feet. ‘No, this will not do! I will not permit it. I will not allow you to enter such a household!’

  Frances was taken aback by the intensity of hatred in her aunt’s voice, but she made her reply regardless. ‘It’s too late for that, Aunt Wentworth,’ she interjected boldly. ‘I’m leaving now, this very minute in fact. That way, we won’t say other things that we’ll later regret.’

  ‘I have said nothing so far which I regret,’ said Louisa, turning away coldly. ‘And one more thing, Frances,’ Louisa added with slow deliberation, ‘if you walk out of that door now, I will see to it that you are never admitted into this house again.’

  Frances recoiled. She had not anticipated such resolve from her aunt, and she found herself utterly unprepared for the eventuality of being permanently expelled from Wintersleigh. She momentarily lost her courage. While she faltered, she heard her aunt’s voice in the background.

  ‘It is your choice,’ Louisa was saying. ‘Riverview or Wintersleigh.’

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Frances asked, without referring to her aunt’s proposition. ‘I thought I was doing you a favour by leaving. Obviously I was wrong.’

  ‘Yes, Frances. You were wrong. I am, nonetheless, a forgiving woman, and I will give you a chance to redeem yourself. If you apologise to me now, and agree to remain here with me, I will endeavour to forget this morning’s little episode.’

  Frances smiled scornfully, but made no immediate reply. In her mind, her decision had already been made, but still she wavered between hostility and civility. She opted for civility. ‘I’m sorry that it has come to this, Aunt Wentworth,’ she said coolly. ‘I had no intention of offending you. As for your ultimatum, I must tell you that my plans remain unchanged. After the way you have spoken to me just now, how could I possibly change my mind? After your insults, nothing could entice me to stay here.’ She made a move to le
ave the room, but half-way across it she was stopped in her tracks by her aunt’s words.

  ‘Very well,’ Louisa retorted in a strangled voice. ‘Leave by all means. But mark my words, Frances, you are never to step foot in this household again.’ Her eyes shone defiantly. ‘Do you hear me?’ she demanded with sudden ferocity. ‘Never again!’ She turned her back on her niece and gazed away into vacancy.

  Frances sensed the finality in her aunt’s words, and knew that there was nothing more she could possibly say on the subject. She hastily left the room.