Frances was sitting in the rose salon, jabbing her needle in her embroidery. She first started it as a flower, but didn't know what it was anymore.
'Is that a bear, dear?' asked her mother.
Frances gave a non-committal shrug. She looked at her mother's work, it was a beautiful butterfly. She has no idea why her mother made her embroider, she had no skills.
Frances was good at wood carving, but her mother never let her do it, as it was a gentleman's skills.
Butler entered with calling cards, 'Callers for Miss. Hill.' He handed Frances the cards. Her afternoons were usually filled with callers trying to court her, watched over by her Aunt. She sighed in relief as she put down her embroidery ring.
She leafed through the cards as she walked. Frances stopped in her tracks to see Lord Marcus' name. She felt apprehensive and excited at the same time.
When she entered the drawing room, only Lord Marcus was there. She looked around, 'where are the others?' she blurted out.
'They seem to have important work and left in a hurry' replied Marcus.
'All of them?' asked Frances incredulously. Marcus only shrugged.
'Would you like some tea, Lord Vandam. Lady Smith will be arriving shortly,' said Frances as she made to sit down.
'No, let's head out for an ice cream. The weather is particularly fine today.'
Turning to the Butler he added, 'Miss.Frances will need a chaperone, we will be waiting at the entrance.' With that he offered Frances his hand and walked her out.
'I can't believe you got out before being sabotaged by my Aunt,' she said with an impressed look .
They were joined by a maid, who kept a respectable distance, as they walked through the busy London street. They sat down at an ice cream parlour.
'What would you like, Miss. Frances?' enquired Marcus.
'I will have strawberry ice cream,' said Frances mischievously.
Marcus' eye glinted with mirth as he pouted. She giggled seeing him pout. He bought strawberry ice cream for her and chocolate for him.
'I saw you being mentioned in The Observer again this week,' said Frances.
'Am I?' asked Marcus.
'You need to read the newspaper more closely, Lord' said Frances.
'Why read a paper, when you are the news. Did it report my bread spitting incident?' asked Marcus with a straight face.
'No, it was about the crop rotation you employed with such staggering results,' replied Frances. They entered into detailed discussion about crops, he never knew barley, turnips and oats could be such an entertaining topic.
Marcus couldn't remember the last time he had such a lengthy conversation with a woman, it was always lengthy work at bed. When he looked down, his ice cream was a melted gool.
Frances was waiting outside as Marcus paid for the ice cream. He saw her looking longingly at a poster of a boxing match.
'You like boxing?' asked Marcus.
'I have never seen one, my mother would never let me,' said Frances sadly. When they reached Chestnut house, Marcus took Frances' hand and kissed her knuckles.
'I will call upon you tomorrow by 2,' said Marcus. She blushed as he winked and left.
Aunt Mary was agitated to have missed Marcus twice.
'He didn't even have the courtesy to come and greet,' she mumbled. Frances told Marcus would come calling tomorrow, and she knew this time Marcus wouldn't be so lucky to evade her aunt. She was sure her aunt would take residence in the drawing room so as not to miss Marcus.
Frances couldn't sleep that night, she tossed and turned. Whenever she closed her eyes all she could see was Marcus' pouting face. She imagined pinching his cheeks and kissing him. She blushed. She knew she was falling for Marcus, she hoped she could have the happily-ever-after like Sanah and George.
Next day she was nervous and excited, she couldn't stop looking at the clock every few minutes. At half past one, she found herself fully dressed waiting for Marcus with Aunt Mary.
Marcus was right on time; he was carrying a huge flower bouquet. She felt elated watching him walk inside, while Aunt Mary spotted a scowl.
'Lady Smith,' he said, kissing her hand and handing her the bouquet. Aunt Mary's scowl turned to delight. And they departed with Aunt Mary waving them goodbye.
They walked a few yards where she saw his carriage waiting for them, with a footman holding the door.
'Where are we going today?' asked Frances.
'One moment,' Marcus excused himself and walked over to the maid, he bent down and whispered something to her. She walked past the carriage looking happy.
'Where is she going and what did you tell her?' asked Frances.
'She will meet us in 2 hours in the ice cream parlour' replied Marcus.
He helped her inside the carriage and climbed in after her. The carriage was well-made, and when it moved she could hardly feel any bumps.
'Where are we going?' Frances asked again.
'I don't want to spoil the surprise,' answered Marcus with a wink. She felt her cheek grow hot, so she turned to hide her blush. She noticed a large package on the other side. 'What's that,' she asked, he just smiled and didn't answer.
'You enjoy keeping me in the dark, don't you' accused Frances.
She felt extremely nervous being alone in a closed carriage. Her stomach twisted in odd ways. The carriage came to halt in a few minutes to her surprise. He got up and when she was about to follow, he said 'wait,' and retrieved the package which held a black traveling cloak with a hood. He pulled it over her, buttoned it and pulled the hood up slightly brushing her cheeks. She almost swooned.
Marcus jumped down the carriage and helped her. When she saw where they were, her jaw dropped in surprise; he chuckled at her reaction. 'Shall we,' he offered his hand.
Frances was elated, when she saw they were going to a boxing match.
Marcus couldn't help smiling, as he saw Frances smiling and walking with a spring in her steps. She looked like a child who got a bag full of candies for Christmas.
Boxing house had a raised boxing stand in the center with ropes running through the corners. The boxing stand was surrounded by chairs on three sides and an overlooking balcony on one side. It was crowded with gentlemen milling around.
Marcus took Frances' hand and let her to the balcony. 'Do you want to place a bet?' asked Marcus. Seeing her confusion, 'You bet money on who will win,' he added.
'Who is good?' She asked.
'Tom Molineaux is good,' said Marcus, as he pointed to an African man standing with bare chest, 'and his opponent is William Rimmer,' Frances looked at Rimmer, she thought he must be in his twenties.
The match started, and the two men went about punching each other with bare hands.
Frances had seen a number of her cousins brawl and had egged them on too.
She shouted, 'Punch his nose,' and moaned 'Aahw' in repetition. But she grew quieter as the rounds went on.
Brawls Frances had witnessed the fighting parties were separated before things got worse, but here both men spotted bruises and bloody faces as rounds progressed, she didn't feel right, she was scared and wanted to cry.
Marcus saw Frances clutching her cloak tightly and wincing at every blow. 'Are you alright?' he asked over the noise, she shook her head.
He took her arm, pulled her to her feet and attempted to walk. Frances felt her legs were wobbly and wouldn't support her. Marcus threw his arm over her waist and almost carried her. With Marcus supporting most of her, they made their way out.
Frances had no idea how she got into the carriage. She was crying onto Marcus' shoulder. Marcus was holding her and repeatedly apologising. She gradually subsided.
'I am sorry, I am such a pussy,' apologised Frances.
'I am sorry, I should have never taken you there. I am such a bloody idiot,' said Marcus.
'I wanted to go, it's not your fault,' countered Frances.
'Are you alright?' he asked, brushing tears from her cheeks. She blushed and said, 'I am parched.' He produced a hip flash, on her arched look, he said 'it has water.'
She sat up straight and he took his arm from her shoulder. It was an awkward moment.
'Where are we going?' asked Frances as she noted the carriage was moving.
'I instructed the driver to drive around for an hour,' said Marcus.
She nodded and tried to wipe her face with water surreptitiously. She got her face wet, but was confused on how to wipe it dry. Her dress had short sleeves, if she lifted her dress he would notice. He offered her his handkerchief with a mischievous smile. She took it, embarrassed.
'Do I look like I cried?' she asked.
'You look perfect,' he replied.
Marcus got out of the carriage to bid farewell. 'Will I be able to see you at Kenston Ball today?' asked Frances.
'No, I have other engagements, I am busy for the next two days too,' replied Marcus.
'Oh, I see.. I am leaving for Nottingham for a week for my cousin's wedding in two days,' she mumbled sadly. Frances had looked forward to the week-long getaway from the London season, but now she didn't want to go.
'I know, your aunt mentioned earlier,' said Marcus.
That evening she got a delivery of an orchid bouquet from Marcus with a card that read 'I'm Sorry.'
Marcus knew he shouldn't dally with Frances, but he had no choice. He felt guilty.
If Frances was like other ambitious debutante, who wouldn't look twice at him if it weren't for his title and standings, he wouldn't care one way or the other, but Frances, she didn't see him as Earl, he was just Marcus.
He had sent a sorry card, but she wouldn't know the reason he was apologizing for. Though it was early he made his way to Carmella's apartment unable to bear the guilt. The only way to forget about one woman is another.