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Chapter 9
Francesca never mentioned the encounter to anyone, and now on her way to England it was all she could think about. She was sitting with Aunt Margaret and Elizabeth on the deck of the ship for what seemed like the sixth-hundred time over the past two weeks.
"You seen preoccupied my dear," Aunt Margaret said, and patted her hand.
"I'm just thinking about the future…about people." Francesca was comforted by the way these two women had befriended her, without so much as an introduction.
"It's only normal," Elizabeth said.
"I just don't want to embarrass you, or give myself away," which I've already done.
"You won't. I know you, you'll carry it out perfectly."
"If there's anyone like Jack there, expect bloodshed."
Elizabeth chuckled, "Believe me, everyone in proper society has a certain sense of decorum. I don't think you'll be quite pushed to that limit, besides you got along with him in the end."
"Dear," Aunt Margaret added, "they are all going to love you."
"Yeah, just wait till I say something completely inappropriate. Which I will. Then I'll be exiled and they'll hate me, then they'll hate you, and I'll ruin everyone's lives." Francesca put her head in her hands and groaned, she'd never really thought of what she was in for when she finally got to England. It had all seemed like a great game when it all started, and she was just realizing the consequences of losing. Now that they were nearly at their destination, hyperventilation was quickly creeping up on her.
"We all think that when we're presented to society. Yours will be just a little different," Elizabeth said.
"Get that accent down, look good in a dress, be careful with what words you use, and there will not be any problems. Look good in that dress and you may only have to live through this season," Aunt Margaret contemplated. "Who knows, maybe you can charm the pants off Quinn Rothschild."
"Aunt Margaret!" Elizabeth was one of those ladies that didn't really talk about such things in public. Privately it was an entirely different matter.
"I was being constructive. We could catch them in the act, he'd have to marry her. Caroline would be so embarrassed, her son, marrying to save his good name, delicious. It would be great!"
Elizabeth ended her quickly forming plan, "Think of things like that as only a last result. We can hook him, or someone better, with fewer troubles."
Francesca interrupted the women, "I just want to focus on living through the first week. Then I'll think about men, which is not an entirely bad thing to think about, wouldn't you say?"
Elizabeth and Aunt Margaret both nodded. Men were indeed a very pleasant thing to think about.
At that moment in time Jack Sparrow was sailing, or rather sneaking, into Port Royal. He had decided to pay the Turner household a visit after having been gone for around a month. He was in the area, he might as well pop in to see Will and Lizzie, and the sumptuous creature Francesca. While he was sailing he had been happy, picking up tons of "free" things during his journey, but he felt that he was missing something. He had suddenly realized about two days ago that he was missing the daily arguments he had with Francesca. Well, that was quite unexpected. He would just have to get over it. And that was precisely what he was doing now, visiting them to get her out of his system.
Jack reached the Turner house and walked around the back to the kitchen, he might as well be respectful, no one looks respectful with a pirate knocking on the front door. He knocked on the kitchen door. The cook answered, "Yes, Captain Sparrow?"
"I'm here to see the Turners and Miss Demers."
"Oh, Captain they left for England two weeks ago."
Jack stroked his chin, "Thank you." The cook closed the door.
"Great, now I've got to go all the way to London. Haven't been there in years. Maybe I can pick up some things on the way there." Jack turned around and walked back to the docks, whistling all the way.
When the Turners, Stantons, and Francesca arrived in London Francesca was overwhelmed by the differences between this time and hers. The colors, smells, everything was so different. She was used to London of 2007 with cars and pavement, this was completely unlike it, although she did recognize some of the buildings. While Francesca gawked out the window of the carriage, they traveled to the Stanton's London house. Everybody who was anybody had a London house. And what a house it was.
Located in the most fashionable district of town, it was evident that the Stantons were extremely wealthy. The house was constructed of a golden stone, and stood out among the brick houses surrounding it. With a marble staircase leading to the front door, and large clean windows the house was very impressive. The servants carried their luggage into the house as the group entered and Francesca was again overwhelmed by times that had once been past her. Every furnishing was extravagant. As she walked through the door and looked to the left, she saw a pile of calling cards, evidently the Stantons were very popular among society, which she guessed was good for her. Aunt Margaret looked at the same time Francesca did.
"Oh look! Everyone's been missing us. Good! Now we'll be invited to tons of parties, and we can take Francesca with us!" She looked through the cards. "Look! Here's one from Caroline Rothschild, we wouldn't want to be rude and not return the favor of visiting now would we?" Aunt Margaret looked slyly over at Francesca.
Francesca knew what she had in mind. "I suppose I'm going for a visit soon, aren't I?"
"Not too soon, you need some more dresses and hats, we need you to look like the most fashionable lady in town, which you will be. We'll show that Caroline." Aunt Margaret had only one thing in mind: get back at the hated Caroline Rothschild.
"More clothes? Don't I have enough already?" Francesca hated getting fitted, hated seamstresses, ever since the Speltmonster.
Elizabeth entering the conversation added, "Francesca is not too fond of seamstresses."
"I'll have my seamstress fit her, Anna will absolutely love her. And Francesca will need a personal maid, a good one, a Frenchwoman perhaps. They are just wonderful with hair." Aunt Margaret clapped her hands, "There are so many things to do! We need to get working!"
Aunt Margaret dragged the women to the parlor, leaving the men standing in the entryway.
"How much do you want to bet something big is going to come of this?" Will asked Uncle Thomas.
"Knowing Margaret, she'll be the one to make a mess of the entire plan."
The men went to the library to relax, and to discuss how they were going to live through the plan Margaret was forming.
Anna, the seamstress in London was the complete opposite of the Speltmonster. Where Mrs. Spelt had criticized Francesca, Anna was complimentary. They were in Francesca's room at the Stanton's London house, which was just as extravagant as the rest of the residence. Every piece of furniture was of the highest quality, and the view from her room let her look out on the street below and watch society as it rolled by. Being fitted wasn't quite as bad has it had been the first time. As her assistants were taking Francesca's measurements, Anna was going over colors and styles with Aunt Margaret and Elizabeth.
"I'm thinking jewel tones especially, very dark colors. She would not look good in pastels, and I take it we want her to stand out, no?"
"Greens, blues and reds would look very nice on Francesca," Elizabeth added.
"She needs to be flashy. The complete opposite of every other young woman competing with her. Something different. Young men are always drawn to the new attraction on the dance floor or in the drawing room." Aunt Margaret had already made a list of every eligible young woman in a five hundred mile radius, and had come to the conclusion that they were all shrinking violets. Francesca needed to look different.
Francesca listened to them and envisioned what they were dressing her in. "So, in other words I need to look like a classy whore?"
Aunt Margaret jumped in, "In a way, but not really quite that indelicate. A rich widow stands out because she doesn't have to care about what society thinks of her. We need you to be like that rich widow, except perhaps less…?"
"Loose?" Francesca asked.
"Exactly. Unless of course you find yourself in a situation where you can use it to your advantage, like in order to marry Quinn Rothschild."
Anna, who had been looking at different swatches of fabric added some words of wisdom, "A woman has many attributes. Merely playing up some of them will enable her to get a man, which I suppose is your main purpose. We are making gowns to fit that exact purpose." She looked at Francesca, who looked to Aunt Margaret and rolled her eyes.
"She's going to marry the young Lord Rothschild," Aunt Margaret said surely.
"Oh, you're going for him? Good luck. His mother is one of the most horrid people I've ever met," Anna said to Francesca.
"I've heard."
"I hate Caroline Rothschild. All she ever talks about is her daughter, who is a dear, but I simply cannot stand her prattling on. This is the perfect way to get at her nerves. We'll make her son fall for someone completely unsuitable, by her standards." Aunt Margaret looked at Francesca, "She has no family title and no history, but she is beautiful and she will have a very desirable dowry, one that any normal man wouldn't overlook."
"A normal man wouldn't overlook her just because of her looks." Elizabeth was smiling at Francesca, she had high hopes for her friend.
Francesca was lost in thought as they continued measuring and fitting her for the rest of her wardrobe. She needed every type of gown imaginable, but especially a tremendously extravagant gown for the Stanton's annual costume ball that was the highlight of the Season. Aunt Margaret had talked of nothing more, other than Caroline Rothschild and her children. Anna's assistants packed up their tools and left the room. Anna stayed to talk to the women remaining.
"Well, these gowns will help you in your endeavors, perhaps even more because Lady Stanton has requested the latest fashions. The first of the gowns will be delivered by the end of the week. Don't expect the ball gowns to be ready for a few months, we have planned some quite remarkable techniques to be used, and we want you to outshine everyone else in the room."
Francesca grabbed her arm and spoke quietly, "One more thing Anna. If it's not too much trouble, I would like a black dress. I know it's not customary, but I think if I had an absolutely stunning black dress it would really help me to stand out. Some people would be scandalized, but it would be different and if that's what I'm aiming for I need something that not everyone else will be wearing." She looked to Anna desperately.
"I think you may be right. I'll see what I can do. If I can, you will have the most spectacular dress I have ever made. Both your dress for the costume ball and this black dress will make everyone in the room speechless." She turned to leave then turned back to Francesca and whispered in her ear, "Good luck…Francesca Demers, future Duchess of Standwick."
Francesca realized something. This woman was her ally, and Anna made every gown that respectable women in society bought. And women in society were gossips, surely Anna could overhear something. She could work from the inside. Francesca needed to keep Anna, as both a seamstress and a friend.
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