Before the Season Ends

by Linore Rose Burkard

  They also admired finely dressed men, most sporting hats, dark jackets over colourful waistcoats, close-fitting pantaloons, and either shining black Hessians on their feet or dark slippers trimmed with buckles or other ornaments. Miss Herley giggled at the fops who were altogether too colourful, though Ariana more nearly pitied them, as she did the dandies who tried too hard at being fashionable. Some sported such stiffly starched high collars they had no freedom to turn their heads, but had to turn their entire body to speak or be spoken to.

  Ariana remembered Mr. Pellham’s remark about seeing “sights” among the ton, and had to concur that it was so. Astonishing, she thought, that to most of the people present, the extreme examples of fashion were perfectly ordinary.

  At length Miss Herley suggested they see more of the property. Wide-eyed, Ariana agreed. As they started off, she noticed a particularly fine gentleman who stood out from the midst of a cluster of men. She wondered if perhaps this was the famous Mr. Brummel, for his handsome demeanour, dark blue square-cut tailcoat with its high collar, immaculate white starched shirt, and beautiful cravat with a neat small knot fit everything she had ever read about him in the Times. As she considered this he suddenly looked up and their eyes met.

  She read a look of faint surprise on his face, no doubt for her boldness. She meant to immediately drop her eyes, but somehow they lingered long enough to appreciate that his gaze was brooding, but intelligent. There was more than a hint of hauteur about the handsome face, and yet it seemed that if he would only smile, his would be an exceedingly agreeable smile.

  She waited for it. Somehow she thought he was going to do it, smile at her, which made it difficult to pull her gaze away; until the look in his dark eyes became suddenly forbidding. She blushed and looked away then, feeling disappointed, and shaken by the sudden severity she had read on his countenance.

  Miss Herley called, “Miss Forsythe!” at the same moment that Ariana suddenly collided into someone provoking a startled, “Oh-mmph!”

  The lady she walked into gasped loudly, then stood, hands on her hips, glaring at Ariana. She was younger than Ariana’s aunt, more near her mother’s age, but dressed loudly in chartreuse and with an enormous bonnet upon her head. Some dark hair peeped out here and there in an untidy pattern, though her face was that of an aging beauty. The woman parted her lips indignantly and said, in loud, hollow tones, “I-beg-your-pardon!” She brushed off her gown as if contact with Ariana had tainted the fabric.

  “Oh! I am sorry! I beg your pardon,” Ariana cried.

  “I daresay you should!” Still glaring at Ariana and with her hands on her hips she waited, apparently expecting her accoster to display deeper contrition. Not knowing what else to do, Ariana added, “I must be more careful; I do apologize.” The woman showed no sign of softening, however.

  “What is your name?” Her tone was imperious, and louder than Ariana liked.

  “Miss Ar—Miss Forsythe, ma’am.” She sensed that people were beginning to stare. Miss Herley stood by loyally, looking miserable. Propriety dictated that the older woman must dismiss her before she could leave, but horrified at the prospect of drawing such attention to herself, or of displeasing her aunt, Ariana took the moment to bob a quick curtsey, grab Miss Herley’s hand, and make an escape.

  “That was Lady Covington!” Miss Herley hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. She turned and looked back in the direction of the mishap. “She wanted you to apologize more prettily, I think. She used to be a foremost hostess of the ton and is still one of the patronesses of Almack’s! Without her approval, you may not get in!”

  Ariana was only mildly daunted; Almack’s was an establishment of spotless reputation with stringent standards of admission. Needless to say, if one was accepted there, one was accepted generally. But Ariana was determined to enjoy the day’s outing and cared little about such a thing. After all, she had apologized. How elaborate must her apology be for a minor infraction?

  “She wasn’t hurt,” Ariana replied, considering the matter. “She could have been more gracious.”

  “Of course she could have, Miss Forsythe, but that is one of the privileges of the nobility, is it not?” Smiling, Miss Herley continued, “To be as disagreeable as one wishes, without suffering the least consequence or loss of stature in society! If for nothing else, I wish I had a title simply to be as unreasonable as I chose, and with no one to gainsay me.” Smiling, they walked on, and she added, “Well, let us hope Lady Covington forgets the incident. It cannot be good for you when you are new to society to begin with an enemy such as her.”

  “Enemy! Surely that is coming it strong!”

  Miss Herley looked thoughtful. “Perhaps, but I daresay I would have tried to seem more sorry, to satisfy her, even though I was not.” This was a gentle reproach, and Ariana laughed softly. “I shall apologize again when I see her next.”

  The other girl smiled. “Good. I should not want to see you absent from her routs, for Mama always makes us go.”

  They continued walking and chatting, and sooner than Ariana would have thought it possible to suggest, Miss Herley ventured, “Would you—would you like to call me—Lavinia?”

  “Thank you, Lavinia,” Ariana returned. “I should be glad to. And you must call me Ariana.”

  “Thank you,” she said, with a pleased little smile. “What a fabulous name. It reminds me of Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos.”

  “Who fell in love with Theseus, ran off with him, and was abandoned by him later!” finished Ariana, in a droll voice. “I do hope we have no connexion other than like-sounding names!”

  They then came upon a row of tight, tall, box hedges and Ariana wondered aloud what was behind them. “I have no doubt it must be a delightful garden,” she mused.

  “Perhaps statuary,” suggested Lavinia, her eyes alight. “Shall we find the entrance?” Ariana nodded, and both girls giggled at the delightful mischief they were undertaking. The wall of greenery went on for quite some time with no break but after a sudden bend, Ariana pointed.

  “Oh, there! It looks like a break in the hedge!” They picked up their stride. With a growing excitement, as if on cue, the two clasped hands and began running. In seconds it became a race. They dropped hands, lifted their skirts and, aching with laughter, ran wildly ahead. All thoughts of the finery they wore disappeared, and Ariana might have been in the little park surrounding her own home, so free she felt.

  “I’m ahead!” Miss Herley was only a few steps behind.

  “Not for long!” As Ariana careened around the corner of the hedgerow, for the second time that day she collided with another person. To her horror, it was the finely dressed gentleman she had seen earlier. His eyes did not hold the faint disapproval she had seen before; instead, they were ablaze with reproof.

  Eight

  Having come round the hedge as fast as she could, Ariana ran smack into the man. Why, oh, why did it have to be the same one she had seen earlier? Fortunately, he had lightning-quick reflexes, and broke the impact by instantly grasping Ariana’s arms as she rushed against him. His grip was strong. His look severe. He was about to speak when Lavinia added to the insult he’d already endured by exploding pell-mell against them both, this time pushing Ariana right up against him.

  “Do you never watch where you are going?” His voice was icier, if that was possible, than his eyes, which in themselves were ferocious. Oddly, however, she could only give heed to the fact that the gentleman, imposingly handsome from a distance, looked distressed at close range, as if the finery he wore belied the truth of a painful existence. The shock of seeing him this close had the uncanny effect of drowning out the regret she ought to have felt at her impropriety.

  There was something fascinating about him, she had sensed that earlier. Time froze somehow while she took in a pair of brilliant gray-black eyes, deep with sparks, sparks of feelings, it seemed to her. They were intelligent eyes, and startlingly penetrating, and—angry. Suddenly she was back in the moment, an
d blushed deeply. She took an involuntary step back from the severe countenance. “We were searching…for an opening in the hedge. We didn’t mean—I beg your pardon!”

  “Yes!” squeaked Miss Herley. She was aghast, and hadn’t spoken at all. The man smoothed his fine coat, his eyes still drawn in disapproval, and straightened his cravat.

  “You were racing.”

  “Well—yes.” Ariana’s cheeks were burning hotly, both from the exertion of running and her embarrassment. She and Lavinia were still catching their breath.

  “Racing,” he repeated, disdainfully. “A child’s game. Perhaps you had best race back to your mamas. They will undoubtedly be missing you.”

  Miss Herley immediately took Ariana’s arm to obey, but Ariana stood her ground. She was shocked by his incivility, and as she had dealt so unsuccessfully with Lady Covington, something akin to determination rose in her breast now. She had to try more earnestly this time.

  “Please; allow us to apologize!” She put a hand on Lavinia’s arm as if to reassure her, for she could feel the other girl tugging at her to leave the scene. Wistfully, she added, “We meant no harm.” The man did not soften his gaze, but raised one thick dark brow slightly, almost imperceptibly; but Ariana had seen it, and was encouraged enough to continue. “It was inappropriate for us to be running. I was at fault.”

  Miss Herley gasped, “Me, too!” Ariana glanced at her companion and conceded with a nod; she then turned back to the gentleman.

  “We’re terribly sorry.”

  “Yes, indeed!” Miss Herley’s voice was higher than it had been earlier. Ariana could see that her friend, who had been so at ease when they’d met, was suffering a great deal of anxiety. Having no audience now (as there had been when she stumbled into Lady Covington) Ariana was not similarly afflicted. She was certain she was doing a superior job of smoothing things over with this gentleman. But he was scrutinizing her with fresh disgust.

  Alarmed, she added, plainly, “Please say you’ll forgive us!” and she tried to make light of it with a chuckle. “Surely you would not—”

  “Enough! You have no business in this area of the estate. Go back to your mamas before I take you back!” At this outburst, Ariana lost her resolve to make peace—as well as her patience. He was no more civil than Lady Covington. Did these people think so highly of themselves that no one else’s feelings mattered at all?

  She crossed her arms and looked up at him with asperity. “You have no business speaking to us in such a manner! We meant no harm, and we have apologized!” Miss Herley stared at her friend in dumbstruck horror, while the gentleman, surprised, eyed her with a hint of a smile about his mouth.

  “Your apology is not accepted; be off with you both!”

  These words came out as something of a growl and Miss Herley turned immediately on her heel, not waiting for her companion this time. Ariana hesitated, searching his eyes for a moment—such rudeness seemed out of place in one so obviously refined. He raised an eyebrow at her and put his head back as if he, too, was taking stock of her. But Miss Herley had had enough, and if Ariana lacked the sense to move on before the situation grew worse, she did not, and she hurriedly went back and took Ariana’s arm. With a sidelong timid glance at the man, she pulled Ariana on.

  “Come!”

  Ariana allowed herself to be moved along and fought the instant temptation to turn around and look back at the strange, beautiful man who was so thoroughly rude. When they had got out of earshot, Miss Herley said, “My word, but you frightened me! I thought I might swoon! A debutante standing up to Mr. Mornay!”

  Ariana halted like one struck by lightning. “Mr. Mornay? Was that indeed the Mr. Mornay?” She was filled with a sudden dread.

  “I thought you knew!…No wonder…” and she lapsed into silence.

  “My aunt cautioned me to avoid him at all costs! And now—oh, I am certain to have ruined everything!”

  “But he did go easy on us,” Lavinia said softly. “He is a frightful fellow and capable of much worse. In fact,” and her tone became philosophical, “having received a set-down from Mr. Mornay is rather like enduring a rite of passage, and other people will adore hearing about it!” Her face brightened. “Now we’ve had the ‘rite,’ I daresay it will give us a reason to draw some attention at our next social engagement. You’ll see; women are all ears when it comes to the Paragon.”

  Ariana’s large eyes were puzzled. “My aunt maintains that his disapproval is disastrous.”

  “But he disapproves of most everyone; He is disastrous only when he gives set-downs publicly.”

  “I see.” Ariana had something to muse upon. To learn and understand if she was to make her way in this social world. She thought back on the encounter. “Dressed in perfect style, and yet without manners! Why is it always so?” Ariana spoke as though she had run into a hundred gentlemen and been subject to such treatment by them all.

  “We did run into him,” Lavinia reminded her, with a wry smile. “I am surprised he didn’t take us by the arm and force us back to the company. That indeed would have been utterly humiliating!” They walked in silence for a ways. “He is a handsome man; do you not think so?”

  Ariana smiled. “I suppose one must grant him that.”

  “Goodness!” Lavinia started. “I promised Mama that I would help look after Susan! How could I forget?” The young women had decided to continue their exploration of the grounds rather than allow their afternoon to be ruined. They were far from the hedgerows, but still nowhere near the other guests.

  “Then let us go to her,” Ariana said.

  “Oh, not you, Ariana. I’ll only be a minute! I’m enjoying this walk today, I feel as though I’ve been shut up with Mama in the house for an age! I will get Susan and we will catch up with you.”

  Ariana, too, was enjoying the pretty grounds of Aspindon and the familiar feeling of being in the country rather than the city. But she looked around uncertainly. “Perhaps it’s best if I go with you.”

  “But what if the incorrigible Mr. Mornay sees us and speaks to your aunt, or my mama? I think it is safer for just me to go—he may have an eye out for the two of us. While I’m gone, look about—perhaps over there,” she pointed toward a green field backed by a grove of trees, “and find us a pleasant spot to sit and study the house. We can try and commit it to memory, and see who can draw the best likeness afterward, when we are home.”

  “Very well, “Ariana said. “But do tell Mrs. Bentley of my whereabouts.”

  Lavinia nodded, already backing away. “I will. I won’t be long! Wait for me!”

  “All right!”

  Ariana walked along at a leisurely pace, taking in as much of the landscape as she could. In one direction, after a gentle slope upwards, she could see the sparkling surface of a pond. In another direction, the little grove of trees, getting larger. Behind her, the house, elegant and stately. She went steadily toward the grove only to find, when she got right up to it, that it was not actually a grove at all. There was one single monstrous tree, with many trunks branching out from one main low foundation, like the arms of an idol from India she had once seen in a book. She stood and stared at it, wishing she had her drawing book and pencils with her. What a fascinating study it would be, and a great addition to her modest collection of drawings.

  But soon she had to change her mind; the innumerable branches criss-crossed at so many points that only an artist more skilled than she could properly get it on paper. Looking up at the branches, Ariana was suddenly swept by a desire to sit among them. Why, there was a little spot perfect for sitting, and from which she could easily survey the scene around her. She could see if Lavinia—or anyone else—approached. And it would afford her a luxurious view of the house and grounds. Why not?

  She studied the spot from a few angles: could it be reached? She decided it could. She peeled off her gloves and felt the trunk. Rough, but not so much that a lady could not climb it. She tucked her gloves inside her reticule, removed her spencer,
and placed her things upon a stone behind the tree. After a look around to be certain no one was about, she lifted her gown, carefully raised one leg, and began to climb.

  It was too bad her aunt had not allowed her to wear a pair of half-boots, but at least the kid slippers gave some traction whereas if she had worn her usual silk pair, she might not have attained her object at all (tree-climbing could be quite slippery). Nevertheless, it seemed like only seconds before she was sitting, quite happily, on a wide branch that was every bit as cozy as she had suspected it would be.

  Wasn’t this nice! Wearing a smile, she viewed the house and grounds, enjoying her secluded perch. Because of the many overhanging branches there was little likelihood that she could be seen where she sat, and a sigh of contentment escaped her. She put her head back, leisurely viewing the scene above and saw that at least three more wide branches spread out horizontally like hers. They looked equally superb for sitting.

  Feeling like a child, Ariana stifled an involuntary giggle and climbed up to the next branch, which was lovely. In another minute she had to try the next; and finally, feeling she may as well go as high as was safely possible, she got up on the highest branch, which took a bit more effort. She had to stand and pull herself up, hoping as she did that brushing against the bark would not damage her gown. Perched atop the branch, peering out through the branches, Ariana had to congratulate herself. This was so far superior to the morning at home and the ride with her aunt in the coach, that it was well worth the effort. The sky was clear and clean, with nary a cloud. The house stood, dignified and solitary, in the middle of a large expanse of grass surrounded by hedgerows and evergreens, bushes and a terraced garden. Other than a slight chill in the air, she was enormously comfortable. There was no sign yet of Lavinia, but Ariana could wait.

  She studied the house and tried to imagine what lay beyond its large, shining windows. What would it feel like to live in such a place? So many rooms! A vast property. It was more than she could imagine. And to think the owner was not even a happy person. Mr. Mornay was truly as unpleasant as her aunt had said, and it just proved that no amount of earthly possessions could make one happy.