The heavy cologne wafted at her from the envelope.
Fear pulsed Frederica’s heart. She no longer hesitated but ripped into the envelope, very aware that Margaret was now pulling on her own shoes across the room, not taking any notice of her.
My dearest Frederica,
How could you do this to me? How could you possibly betray our love and consent to marry another?
I will not stand for it. I cannot.
Maybe this is your ploy to get my attention, for I did not come to you at once since your arrival in London.
If that is the case, be reassured that I will come. I intend to come for you, Frederica. To make you mine at last.
M.
There was something aggressive in the letter. The words ‘to make you mine’ cast a shiver of fright through Frederica’s bones. She closed up the envelope quickly as she was very aware that Margaret was now staring at her from across the room.
“What is it?” Margaret asked, standing from her seat now that she had her shoes on. “Has something happened?” She glanced down at the letter in Frederica’s clutches.
Maybe I should tell her the truth.
Frederica considered it her best chance. After all, Margaret may be demanding and cool, but she was not as icy cold as her father was. Margaret had even hugged her when she saw her again. There was hope for an understanding mind and kind heart, wasn’t there?
“If this is about the wedding.” Margaret’s manner suddenly became as icy as Frederica had just persuaded herself it couldn’t be. “If you are intending to back out at this late stage, I will not stand for it. You know you must do this. It is the only way to save all of our reputations.”
Frederica had not even considered backing out of the marriage. Not only would marrying Lord Padleigh give her an escape from Margaret and Ernest, but it would also close the door firmly in Lord Wetherington’s face again. He would never be able to claim her ‘as his own’ to use his words.
Yet her mother’s reaction firmly resolved her on one thing.
I cannot tell my mother. As much as I wish for her to be understanding — to help me in this matter — she would not.
She was beginning to think that no one would understand. She couldn’t even see Dorothy or Charlotte to ask what they thought of all these threats, for she had been confined to this house and all of her letters had been intercepted.
“It doesn’t matter.” Frederica turned away.
She found a loose bag in which various items had been stuffed, ready for her move to Lord Padleigh’s house later that day. She hid the letter firmly in the bottom, intending never to read it again.
“I am ready,” she said, turning and standing straight, grasping a small bouquet of flowers that had been prepared for her for the day. “Let us go to the church.”
* * *
Frederica stood trembling at the church door. She tried not to move a muscle though she could feel herself shaking from head to toe. Her eyes moved constantly from side to side, for she was wary of someone’s approach. She constantly looked out for Lord Wetherington, fearing he would be part of the congregation.
After the letter she had received from him that morning, was it not possible that he would storm into the church today? Perhaps he intended to stand up and shout an objection when the priest asked if there was any impediment to wed.
She could well imagine her parents never forgiving her for such an interruption. They would think her beyond redemption.
“Would you raise your chin a little?” Ernest said sharply in her ear. “Honestly, Frederica. I am beginning to think we did not instill in you a sense of pride or position at all.”
She dutifully raised her chin though she chose not to say anything in response to her father. He had already stood disparaging her for many minutes at this church door as they waited for the ceremony to begin. She had lost all intention to argue back to him and just stood there, allowing him to berate her.
“When I think what this has come to,” he sighed. “It is from the grace of God alone that you are marrying a man as distinguished as Lord Padleigh. A marquess no less.” He suddenly smirked with self-satisfaction, prompting Frederica to stare at him in awe. “He will open doors for us now; that is true.”
He was speaking more to himself than to her, rubbing his hands together with a kind of childish delight. “Yet you will have to be careful.” He grew serious again. “Lord Padleigh will not stand for you to continue in your disgraceful ways.”
“He is marrying me,” she reminded her father in a small voice.
“He is doing it because he has no choice. Good lord, Frederica. You surely do not think you are worthy of any affection from him? After all you have done?”
