Sylvia Andrew by Francesca

kiss, that’s all, then I’ll let you go, give you my word. Give me a kiss, there’s a good girl.’
    ‘Fanny!’ For the first time in her life, Francesca was glad to hear her aunt’s voice. Miss Shelwood was standing a fewyards away, with Silas, her groom, close behind. Her face was a mask of fury. Francesca’s tormentor let her go with a start, and took a step back.
    ‘Come here this instant, you…trollop!’ With relief, Francesca complied. Her aunt turned to Freddie. ‘I assume you are from Witham Court, sir. How dare you trespass on my land! Silas!’ The groom came forward, fingering his whip.
    Freddie grew pale and stammered, ‘There’s no need for any violence, ma’am. No need at all. I was just passing the time of day with the little lady. No harm done.’ And, within a trice, he disappeared in the direction of Witham Court.
    ‘Take my niece’s arm, Silas, and bring her to the Manor.’ Miss Shelwood strode off without looking in Francesca’s direction. Silas looked uncomfortable but obeyed.
    Francesca hardly noticed or cared what was happening to her. All her energies were concentrated in a desperate effort to endure her feelings of anguish and betrayal. She had believed Marcus! She had been taken in by his air of sincere regret, had thought he had been truly distressed to be leaving her! And while she had lain awake, holding the thought of his love and concern close to her like some precious jewel in a dark world, a talisman against a bleak future, he had been joking and laughing at Witham Court, boasting about her, making her an object of interest to men like Freddie. It was clear what they all thought of her.
    Oh, what a fool she had been! What an unsuspecting dupe! She had fallen into his hands like a…like a ripe plum! Her aunt could not despise her more than she already despised herself. She had been ready to give Marcus everything of herself, holding nothing back. Only Freddie’s timely interruption had prevented it. She had indeed behaved like the trollop her aunt had called her. Occupied with these and other bitter thoughts Francesca hardly noticed that they were back at the Manor.
    Miss Shelwood swept into the library, then turned and said coldly, ‘How often have you met that man before?’
    Never. Francesca said the word, but no sound came.
    ‘Answer me at once, you wicked girl!’
    ‘I…’ Francesca swallowed to clear the constriction in her throat. ‘I have never seen him before.’
    ‘A liar as well as a wanton. Truly your mother’s daughter!’
    ‘That’s not true! You must not say such things of my mother!’
    ‘Like mother, like daughter!’ Miss Shelwood continued implacably, ignoring Francesca’s impassioned cry. ‘Richard Beaudon was at Witham Court when he first met your mother. Now her daughter goes looking for her entertainment there. Where is the difference? No, I will hear no more! Go to your room, and do not leave it until I give you permission.’
    Exhausted with her effort to control her feelings, Francesca ran to her room and threw herself on her bed. She did not cry. The bitter tears were locked up inside, choking her, but she could not release them.
     
    In the weeks that followed, she castigated herself time and again for her weakness and stupidity. She, who had taught herself over the years not to let slights and injuries affect her, to keep up her guard against the hurt that others could inflict, had allowed the first personable man she met to make a fool of her, to destroy her peace of mind for many weary months. It would not happen again. It would never happen again.
    Her aunt remained convinced that Francesca had been conducting an affair with Freddie. Francesca was punished severely for her sins. She was confined to her room on starvation rations for days, then kept within the limits of the house and garden for some weeks. It was months before she was allowed outside the gates of the garden, unaccompanied by her governess or a groom. She was made