Coal Among Diamonds │Benedict Bridgerton

Chapter Three: The First Caller

"Good morning Miss, I hope I find you awake. This new dress just arrived from the... Oh," Annabeth trailed off as her eyes fell on the painting Franny was working on, wholly absorbed in the process, her blonde hair sticking out in all directions from the loose bun on the top of her head.

"How do you reckon, Annabeth? It might be one of my best works yet," Franny asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her hand smudged with paint.

"I um... don't know Miss... is that the Queen, with what might look like a King Pine on Her Majesty's head?" Annabeth took her guess uncomfortably.

"Precisely. Most fitting, I think. I might as well predict her next appearance. It could also serve as an illustration to that scandal sheet of Lady Whistledown."

"I don't think that would be wise, Miss." Franny didn't reply but admired her masterpiece, hands on her hips, brush in her mouth, head tilted.

"I shall make you a bath Miss, then you can try on your new dress. I shall braid your hair also."

"Well, good luck with that," Franny murmured as Annabeth left the room to start running the water, leaving Franny alone, rather unwisely. Her attention shifted to the dress, surprised to say to find that it was to her liking. Lilac, with shades of blue, and with a delicate layer of lace interwoven with small white flowers, the dress was laid carefully on the bed. But just before her hands could reach it, she remembered that lace and paint rarely mixed well together, and stopped herself from ruining the dress. Perhaps some manners were rubbing off on her, after all. God save me from becoming a proper lady, she thought.

✦

Hand washed off paint, hair braided tightly, dress fitting perfectly, Franny was on her way to the drawing room eager to tell her uncle about her new watercolour.

"Uncle, you must teach me how to paint portraits! I had enough of landscapes and flowers. I want to paint something that would make the ton's conservative forehead wrinkle. You must comment on my new watercolour of Queen Charlotte with a King Pine on... Oh," Franny trailed off as upon walking into the drawing room he found two men standing in front of each other: Her uncle, with a sombre and icy expression on his face, and his complete opposite, Lord Wetherby greeting her with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Lord Wetherby, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Franny queried in surprise.

"Well, I was hoping we could follow up on our rather enjoyable conversation of last night," he replied, giving Franny a bouquet of beautiful flowers.

"Oh, you are here to call on me?" Franny pressed on, still in awe.

Lord Wetherby let out a small chuckle, while Mr. Granville's face was still grim.

"You must forgive my niece for her bluntness, Lord Wetherby, this is her very first season. Please, do take a seat. Franny, why don't you serve our dearest guest some tea and biscuits," walking in, Lucy Granville took control over the situation before it could head to disaster. She shot a glance to her niece, who was knocked out of her bewilderment and offered Lord Wetherby a plate of biscuits which he accepted with another smirk, clearly amused at the situation. Should I curtsy? Franny wondered, nevermind, just concentrate on not dropping the plate on him.

"Dearest, weren't you on your way to buy some supplies? I am afraid we have a shortage in yellow paint," Lucy inquired, turning towards her husband, with a pleasant smile.

"Yes, Lucy dearest I was, just before Lord Wetherby graced us with this rather unexpected visit," Mr. replied, his eyes locking the gentleman's.

"Unexpected, but most welcome," Mrs. Granville walked next to Mr. Granville. "I shall gladly chaperone these young people, so you can continue with your day, dearest," putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, she eyed Mr. Granville with a pressing look, muttering go quietly.