Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy (12 page)

When they resumed their journey
Frances read a sermon on sin and penance that seemed in keeping with her situation. Had she truly considered all other options, or had she quickly settled on the one that suited her?

As they passed the first houses of
Carlisle, Greystoke leaned out to call to the postilions to halt.

He'd changed his mind?

"I'm known in Carlisle," he said, "so we can't use the fashionable shops. We'll let the coach go on to the King's Head without us."

Frances
realized for the first time that she was engaged in a scandal. She didn't know if that excited or terrified her, but she was aware of a strange pleasure in doing something unusual for once.

They descended and he gave the postilions their orders, then they walked along the street, seeking the less fashionable establishments. They found a small jeweler's and were able to purchase a simple band, though
Frances longed for slender fingers.

They asked about a place where personal linens could be bought and were directed to a Mrs. Otterburn's. When they arrived at the address, it looked like an ordinary, modest house. Then they saw that the window contained a small sign: Mrs. Otterburn, Haberdasher.

"It seems a small place," Frances said, "so perhaps you should wait here. I will need some money, however."

He smiled politely.
"No need to blush over it. I will soon endow you with all my worldly goods."

She thanked him, flustered, and went into the shop, finding herself directly in the front room, which clearly served as a shop. A bell tinkled, and a young woman came smiling from the back of the house.
"How can I help you, ma'am?"

She was a girl, really; probably only fourteen or so, and surprisingly well-spoken for her situation. It struck
Frances that her simple blue dress was not unlike the one she wore, but what a difference in effect. The girl's showed off a budding figure, a glowing complexion, big blue eyes, and warm golden hair, simply tied back.

Greystoke would be more enthusiastic about having to marry someone like this.

Concern sobered the girl's smile. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

Frances
pulled herself together. "Yes, thank you. Just a little tired. And distressed." She was cobbling together a story as she spoke. "I'm traveling north, you see. To Glasgow. But my portmanteau has been lost. I wondered if you had some personal items for sale ready made."

Not possibly in her size, she thought with despair.

The girl said, "I'll ask mama," and disappeared into the back of the house.

Probably to laugh.

She returned shortly with a rather severe-looking woman in widow's black. Presumably Mrs. Otterburn.

"
We only keep a few garments ready made, ma'am," she said in more of a Cumberland accent than her daughter. "But we do have some used clothing, if you would consider that. It is all clean and in good repair."

Frances
had never worn a second-hand garment in her life, but this place had such an aura of cleanliness and godliness, that she believed the description.

"
I would like to see what you have."

Both lady and girl disappeared and soon returned with reassuringly white garments to spread on the table. They were simple, but
Frances preferred simple. And just possibly they would fit.

"
A lady of our acquaintance died," Mrs. Otterburn said, "and her husband didn't know what to do with her garments."

"
I assume there is a nightgown?"

"
Oh, yes," the girl said extracting a white garment. When she shook it out, Frances saw that though it was sensibly high-necked and long-sleeved, it was embroidered and ruffled, and lace-trimmed in a way none of hers had ever been.

Until now,
Frances hadn't thought in any direct way that tonight would be her wedding night, but if she had to do that, this garment might help.

"There are some gowns as well if you might be interested. Bring them, Nan."

The girl hurried away, but
Frances felt irritated at such opportunism. She hadn't asked for dresses and didn't need any. She selected some other items of underwear.

Two girls -- twins, perhaps -- returned with the gowns.

Frances only glanced at them. "I don't wear such colors."

Mrs. Otterburn said,
"The poor man couldn't bear the thought of seeing some other woman in his wife's clothes, you see, ma'am, but as you're not from these parts… They're all of excellent quality."

The first girl said,
"The red would suit you wonderfully, ma'am."

"
It would," Mrs. Otterburn agreed. "Let me hold it in front of you, ma'am."

The three of them chivvied
Frances in front of a mirror and the gown was suspended in front of her. She blinked. It did look well.

"
I'm too large to wear red."

She hated the words as soon as they escaped, but they were true.

The first girl spoke, bright with enthusiasm. "The lady who owned this dress was considered very pretty, ma'am. Size really has nothing to do with it."

What nonsense.

"You could try it on," the other girl coaxed.

"
I suppose you want a great deal for them." Frances had only been thinking of Lord Greystoke money, which he hadn't yet endowed her with, but Mrs. Otterburn's expression told her how ungracious it had sounded. What was wrong with her?

"
The money will go to the husband, ma'am, who has three young children to care for. I can't deprive him of a fair price, but I know he'd be happy for you to have them. Perhaps ten guineas for everything?"

Frances
colored with shame. She'd paid that for the one dull gown she was wearing and more for some of her others. This could be considered a charitable purchase, as the gowns couldn't be sold to local women.

Frances
glanced to where she could see Greystoke through the objects displayed in the window. "My escort."

"
Perhaps he could wait at an inn?" Mrs. Otterburn said. "Jane and Nan can escort you there when you're ready."

Frances
felt rushed and pushed, but having seen that red dress against herself, she must at least try it.

She went out.
"I want to make a number of purchases. An opportunity. A charity!" She cut off her babble. "May I have eight more guineas?"

When his brows rose, she said,
"I can repay you. I'm not penniless."

"
Except by my impetuous plan. Of course." He gave her the coins.

"
And perhaps you can wait at the inn? It's cold out here. The women in the shop say they'll see me safely there."

He studied her, and she recognized that he felt responsible for her safety. How peculiar it felt.

"Tell them instead to send for me," he said. "And don't dally too long. We still have aways to go."

When she returned, the women took her into a back bedchamber and helped her out of her gown. Then they put her in the red. It was a little long, but could be hemmed. It was a little large, which absurdly pleased her.

She covered her chest with her hand. "The neck's too low."

"
But pretty with a full bosom, ma'am," Mrs. Otterburn said. "For warmth, you could wear a fichu. Nan, dear, find one."

The girl soon returned to put a triangle of white cotton around
Frances's shoulders and tuck it in down the front. "You see, ma'am," she said. "The dress does fit, and it does suit. The gentleman will be pleased."

"
Nan," her mother admonished, but indulgently.

In the mirror,
Frances saw herself blush, and in the red it didn't look so awkward. And the purchase would be an act of charity.

"
Very well," she said, feeling rather as if she'd been swept along by a flood, "I'll take it all. But I'll need a valise for it. Where do I purchase one?"

Mrs. Otterburn gave orders.
"Nan, go for the gentleman. His name, ma'am?"

Why hadn't she thought about that?
Frances had no option other than to say, "Greystoke." She didn't sense recognition. Perhaps their home area was far enough away that his title didn't spring to mind.

"
Stop at Mr. Satler's on the way, dear, and ask for a cloth portmanteau or something similar."

The girl grabbed a shawl and ran off.

"Jane, fold up the garments again."

"
Please help me out of the dress first," Frances said.

"
You don't want to wear it, ma'am?" Mrs. Otterburn asked, surprised.

The idea terrified
Frances. People would laugh to see her dressed so.

"
It's too long," she said.

"
Only an inch or so."

"
But it would trail and be soiled."

The woman accepted that and helped
Frances change. The bell jingled, but it wasn't Greystoke, it was a young man with a sturdy cloth valise. "Ten shillings to you, love," he said, winking at Jane, but then sobered when Mrs. Otterburn and Frances appeared. He didn't sober much, though. His eyes still twinkled.

What was it like,
Frances wondered, to live among such casual cheer? "Love" meant nothing among these people -- it was simply a cheery greeting -- but it was such a sweet one. And perhaps one day this young man would actually court quiet Jane or lively Nan.

Frances
paid him, promising Mrs. Otterburn that Greystoke would pay the extra when he arrived.

When he left, Mrs. Otterburn and her daughter packed
Frances's new clothing.

"
A shame to have lost yours, ma'am," Mrs. Otterburn said. "I hope it's found and sent on after you."

Truth escaped.
"I haven't lost my valise. I'm eloping."

Mother and daughter looked up, the girl's eyes bright, but the mother's frowning.
"Are you sure that's wise, dear?"

Frances
shrugged. "Wise is hard to pin down. It's the right thing to do, I'm sure. The only thing to do."

The woman nodded.
"Then I hope you have a long and blessed marriage."

They closed the bag and Jane went into the back of the house.
Frances was tempted to spill out everything to the sober woman, but merely because she was there and she desperately wanted to tell someone. To get some sense of whether she was mad or not.

When Greystoke came in,
Frances saw Mrs. Otterburn assess him with new eyes. There was nothing vicious about him, but he was undoubtedly handsome and dashing, which the sober lady would probably see as signs of sin. Moreover, she'd be bound to wonder why such a man was marrying a woman like her. Perhaps she worried that he didn't have marriage in mind at all.

Might she feel driven to alert the authorities?

"You're ready?" he said.

"
Yes," Frances said, eager to be gone.

The girl Jane returned and put something into the bag behind her mother's back.
Frances wondered, but it could hardly be dangerous so she said nothing.

They hurried back to the inn, only stopping for a toothbrush and powder, and were soon on their way to
Gretna.

<<<->>>

Greystoke found his Gretna wedding about as dismal as he'd expected. It was dark when they arrived, with even a few flakes of snow whipping in a wind. The postilions had claimed to know the best inn and though they would probably receive a cut from the innkeeper, he let them take him there. It turned out to be tolerable, and the warmth was welcome.

He hadn't been sure whether Scottish law like English required weddings to take place only within certain hours, but it turned out not to be so. They made their vows before witnesses, who all happily signed for a shilling each, and then they were ushered up to a bedroom, man and wife.

Frances stood in the room, still in her cloak and bonnet. "How extraordinary."

"
Yes." He prayed she wasn't going to burst into tears.

"
It makes me wonder why people go to such a fuss."

"
I suppose they enjoy it."

"
I would hope so." Her eyes flickered to the bed for a moment, but settled on the newly-built fire.

"
Let me take your cloak."

"
It's too cold yet.

She held out her hands to the flames, the left now wearing the gold band. He saw her look at it, frowning.

"What we need is a good dinner," he said, hearing the forced heartiness of his tone, and rang the bell.