Before the Season Ends

by Linore Rose Burkard

  “No! If I stand up with one more gentleman I will stamp on his feet to be excused!” She looked up at him. “I only hoped to see more of the house. We passed so many marvelous paintings. Had I not been on the arm of His Royal Highness I would have stopped to view them.”

  The ire left his tone.

  “I see. But I must get you home. You can view the paintings another time.”

  “Another time?” Her eyes lit with amusement. “I do not expect there shall be another time, sir.”

  “One never knows, does one?” His response was enigmatic.

  He led them to the prince, to take their leave. Again the Regent made much of Ariana, and thanked her for coming to his house. He was exceedingly gracious. Later, after a servant allowed Ariana to pick her pelisse from a coat room, Mr. Mornay escorted her out of the lavish establishment and onto the street. A servant had already been dispatched to alert his coachman to bring round the carriage.

  The air was surprisingly chilly, and Ariana was thankful for the warmth of her coat as she pulled it closer around her. While they waited she could not help looking about cautiously for the presence of any footpads. The conversation indoors had given her imagination frights, despite the reassuring company beside her. Mr. Mornay was in good health, and strong—she remembered that from their encounter on his estate. But it was still a relief when they were finally seated in the coach.

  As the wheels began turning and the carriage moved away from the mansion on Pall Mall, Ariana craned her neck to get a last look at the building. How extraordinary, that she had been there, danced in its ballroom, with the Regent and Mr. Mornay! When she turned back and saw that familiar half-smile on her companion’s face, she grinned sheepishly.

  And then she was aware, suddenly, of being tired. Meeting all those people, lords and ladies of all ranks, and Lady Hollingsford offering her Almack’s—it had been a momentous night, and now the effects were settling in. Her head found its way to rest against the cushion, but her feet, shod only in the fashionable but flimsy silk slippers, were aching. She reached down and rubbed one, hoping to be discreet, but his eyes, sharp as always, noticed immediately.

  “Your feet are sore! Perhaps I should have warned you not to take to the floor so often.”

  “I would that you had; how does one begin to say ‘no,’ when she has already said ‘yes,’ to others, without giving offence?”

  “Did you indeed wish to?”

  “Yes; aside from the prince—” She looked away. “And you.” She dared not meet his eyes. “I had no interest in dancing.” She paused. “I do not enjoy proximity with strangers.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Again she rested her head on the cushions.

  “I am afraid I kept you out too late.”

  “No.” But her tone was weak. “It was wonderful. I enjoyed nearly every minute!”

  “Nearly?” There was laughter in his voice.

  She raised her head to explain. “Standing up with the Regent is not something one does every day, and I daresay I might have swooned!”

  He smiled at her exaggeration.

  “And the countess did nothing but send me the most astonishing dark looks! I realize she is not my friend but I cannot account for such animosity.”

  After a moment of ensuing silence he offered, “You were a deal more than she had anticipated being up against.”

  Ariana was flattered, but embarrassed. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, and they lapsed into silence for the remainder of the drive. When they pulled up in front of her aunt’s house she heard a servant come round and lower the steps. Mr. Mornay exited the carriage first and then assisted her by holding one of her gloved hands as she carefully descended. They did not speak as they walked to the door, and Ariana was incredibly aware that he had not released her hand. When Haines appeared, she turned to Mr. Mornay with a curtsey.

  “I am greatly obliged to you. I had a wonderful evening that I shall never forget.”

  “I am glad of it,” he said, lightly. Then, when she would have reclaimed her hand to leave, he instead raised and kissed it, and then bowed. In another moment she was inside the house, and the door had shut behind her. Haines helped her out of the expensive pelisse but she barely noticed. She was too busy going over that parting light kiss to her hand.

  It may have been nothing more than a polite gesture, or the usual gracious manner he might have exhibited to anyone in her place; but Ariana hoped her face had not betrayed the pleasure she felt. Mr. Mornay’s expression was somewhat sombre, and when he nodded, she’d turned and entered the house. Nothing more than that, it had all taken only seconds, and yet, why did she feel as if somehow her life was changing?

  Ariana found herself obliged to tell precisely what had taken place at Carlton House in exhausting detail. Mrs. Bentley wanted to know everything, from who was present to what they wore, what they said to her, and more. She wanted descriptions of the delicacies offered, and the names of every gentleman she stood up with. She was exasperated when Ariana could only remember a few, all of them married men. Her idea was to keep up an acquaintance with the eligible men who had shown an interest in Ariana, knowing such a thing could easily bud into a romance.

  Even the servants were compelled to be curious and asked the young miss questions (if they “could be so bold”) when they came upon her alone. It amused Ariana the way Molly, especially, would scramble to listen if she came within earshot. She refused to meet Ariana’s eyes, still, but nevertheless displayed a noticeable curiosity about her. In all, the servants’ treatment of Ariana, which had always been respectful, became even more so.

  Her aunt also had to know, of course, how things went with Mr. Mornay. When she revealed that he had kissed her hand, even Mrs. Bentley was uncertain whether or not it signified. She had begun to raise her hopes—only faintly—after the way he had approved of Ariana. In the past she had heard him acknowledge, if pressed, that a female was within the mode, or “all the rage,” but she had never seen him personally gratified by it as he apparently had been with Ariana. She supposed that since he was her escort, it gave him a bit more of a possessive feeling, but it seemed to her that what she was sensing in him went beyond that. Nevertheless, she would quickly concede defeat, for after all, who could win Mornay?

  She could not be disappointed with her niece if she failed to do what countless other females had failed at. And now, with guaranteed access to Almack’s, and Lady Covington’s slanders proven groundless, everything was going superbly.

  Ariana found herself thinking strongly of Mr. Mornay during her quiet moments or when she prayed. She included him faithfully in her orisons, praying that his private pain, whatever it was, would find healing in heaven’s balm. She did not dare ask to win his heart, but prayed fervently that God would. She was praying for him, she told herself, because he had been providential in helping her. At times, however, it crept across her conscience that she had enjoyed his company overmuch and would like nothing better than to see him again.

  Mr. Pellham, meanwhile, was still in need of visitors. Ariana and her aunt often spent afternoons in his drawing room, keeping his spirits up with simple diversions. His leg had started to heal but the doctor’s opinion was that Mr. Pellham’s convalescence had just begun. At Mr. Pellham’s age, bones did not heal quickly and one could not be too careful. This was the very thing most liable to vex Mr. Pellham’s free-spirited mind, and thus he was out of sorts for days.

  Ariana tried to amuse him out of his gloominess by reading lighthearted fare aloud, such as Pope’s The Rape of the Lock, or, Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. She and Mrs. Bentley played more card games than either of them cared to, for his sake. But there was nothing they could do to help his leg.

  “I am a miserable specimen of a man,” he lamented one day. “One small misstep, and look at me, abed for weeks! Why do you bother calling upon me any longer? I shall never be the companion you used to know. And I have escorted Ariana nowhere at all!”


  Mrs. Bentley could hardly tell him to stop spouting nonsense when he was so uneasy in mind and unwell in body, as she would have done at another time. And Ariana did not wish to say she was greatly enjoying her stay in London without their intended jaunts.

  And so they played another game of cards.

  Eighteen

  Mr. Mornay had a box at Drury Lane, so when he sent word that Ariana would be accompanying him to the theatre in the evening, she was rippling with excitement.

  It became, in fact, the start of an amazing two weeks during which she appeared on his arm not only at the theatre, but at the ballet, opera, and many private entertainments as well. She was forming the opinion that a life without these pursuits was dull, indeed. During an aria she would close her eyes in bliss and just—listen. During the ballet, she fixed her gaze on the dancers until her eyes ached and watered. It was all so beautiful! And Mr. Mornay enjoyed watching her taking it all in, and hearing her express her impressions, afterward.

  Mrs. Bentley accompanied them as often as the Paragon would allow, although he was more aloof when she was present. Ariana’s aunt, however, was in her glory. She delighted in being spotted in Mornay’s box, and her little white handkerchief had seen more usage of late, as she waved it around at every acquaintance, than in all its history.

  Ariana was able to wear all the finery in her newly acquired wardrobe and people who barely knew her treated her with the utmost respect. Famous now as “Lady Mornay,” as they called her, things could not have been any better. Then, surprisingly, word went around that the countess had been cornered at a dinner party and made to confess the truth: her allegations had been a hoax. When Ariana heard this she was stunned with relief. She thanked God for allowing truth to triumph. The only glitch in her happiness was a nagging concern for her family, for they still had not written a single response to her many letters. It was so unlike her parents and Alberta not to write; something had to be wrong, and it worried her.

  She wanted so much for them to share in the triumph of her reputation being completely restored. She wanted most of all to hear their opinion of Mr. Mornay, and to know their thoughts on all he had done for her since that day at Aspindon. It failed to dawn upon her that now the scandal was utterly without credit, she and Mr. Mornay no longer had need to appear involved with one another. She had not let herself forget that his attentions were temporary, but neither did she dwell upon the fact that they must, in due time, cease.

  She was unprepared, therefore, when the day came for her charmed life to end. It happened when Mr. Mornay brought her home from an afternoon concert, and indicated he wished to come into the house. Sitting across from her in the drawing room, he appeared less than comfortable, which was decidedly unusual for him.

  Ariana was pleased he had asked to come in, and, after ordering tea, sat across from him expectantly. Her large eyes were shining as they tended to do, but his were dark.

  He leaned forward in his seat, and Ariana saw he wanted to speak to her.

  “I am leaving town for about a fortnight. I have business to attend to, my estate, you know, and other holdings.” He produced an elegant blue Sevres snuffbox from an inside pocket of his waistcoat. “I suggest you give it out while I am away that we have had a disagreement.” He took the smallest pinch of snuff, snapped the box shut with one hand, and replaced it to the pocket. Ariana’s face had lost its expectant glow, but she was listening intently, betraying nary a hint of disappointment. He instructed how she should answer the inevitable inquiries, gallantly offering to take all the blame for the failure of the relationship.

  “If you say I have been beastly and unforgivable, no one will doubt you.” He gave a wry smile, but Ariana would not have it.

  “I could never say such a thing,” she insisted.

  “Why not?” He seemed surprised.

  “It isn’t true.” Her wide eyes regarded him prettily and he shifted in his seat.

  “Do not force me to behave in such a manner; that mustn’t be the only way to do this.”

  To do this. The words echoed in her mind with an empty ring. She wanted to ask, to do what? She wanted to make him spell it out for her. If he wanted to stop seeing her, though she knew it had been coming, she was not yet inclined to help him do it.

  As Haines brought in the tea tray (after a peremptory sound at the door) he sensed tension in the room, coming chiefly from the gentleman’s direction. After he had gone, Mr. Mornay resumed his unsavoury task.

  “Miss Forsythe.” He watched her gracefully pour him a cup of steaming liquid. “I will put it to you plainly. The countess has assuredly lost her appetite for reproaching you, and I believe there is not a whit of doubt in society regarding your good name.”

  At these words she spilled a little tea while filling her own cup, but ignored it.

  “Yes, I agree.” She put down the teapot and faced him. His usual manner of being completely in control of every situation seemed to have deserted him. He was regarding her earnestly, yet almost nervously—and suddenly Ariana felt ashamed of herself. He had done nothing except help her, and it was now her turn to be gracious. She took a breath to muster her courage and eyed him steadily.

  “Do not fret on my account, Mr. Mornay. I assure you I have long been prepared for this moment.”

  He practically jumped to his feet.

  “Very well.” He looked at her helplessly. “And you are free, now, of course, to do as you wish. We did what was necessary, and now, I think, before your season is over, you must be given space to make further acquaintances. I mustn’t continue to prevent other prospects from approaching you.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He looked at her searchingly for a few seconds. “When I return, if you need to contact me I encourage you to do so.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was an awkward silence. He acted as though he had expected a much worse time of it, for indeed he had. Wouldn’t it have been usual for the lady to reach hysterics, or at the least declare she would suffer a decline directly? Ariana, however, was even now smiling at him reassuringly. While he watched, she took a delicate sip of tea.

  In truth, she was waiting for him to leave; maintaining control of her emotions for his sake, but at great effort. Of course it was necessary for him to do as he was doing. It was not his fault she had been thoroughly enjoying her time with him or that she would miss the excitement of his company. He had done a superb job of rescuing her from social ruin, but that job was accomplished. Thanks to him, Ariana was considered good ton.

  She forced another smile. “I apologize for not being very grateful just now; I suppose you took me by surprise.”

  He did the eyebrow gesture. Here he was unceremoniously abandoning her, and she was apologizing to him? She even came to her feet.

  “I am more obliged to you than I can say. There is no one who could have helped me as you have, and I am sure no one with whom I could have enjoyed myself, more.” She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I only wish there was something I could do for you in return.” There was no mistaking her sincerity.

  He seemed surprised and for once, caught without a response. He answered slowly.

  “You have done something for me, just now, and I thank you.” He bowed politely, and replaced his hat. “You will excuse me, now.”

  “Of course.” He turned to leave so quickly that Ariana curtseyed to his retreating figure. At the door, however, he stopped and looked back at her.

  “Goodbye, Miss Forsythe.”

  She bobbed another curtsey. “Goodbye. God bless you!”

  She watched him leave, his black boots gleaming in the light from the window. She went and stood discreetly by the drapes, so she could see when he left the house below. She wiped away tears which were allowed to come out now, watching as he disappeared into his expensive black carriage. Turning back she thought, What if I should never see him again?

  The thought disturbed her. She sat back down, heavily, and wept until her
handkerchief was soaked.

  She knew she ought not to be so upset over a man who was not suitable as a husband; she knew he was truly the farthest thing from the mate she had imagined. But she felt alone, now he was gone. As alone as when she had first left home. Only this time, it felt much, much worse.

  Nineteen

  The days following Mr. Mornay’s departure were dreary indeed. Ariana was distraught at the uncertainty of ever seeing him again socially. She missed his little witticisms and swirling eyes. She missed the gallant way he treated her, the laughter in his voice when she amused him, and the firm air of assurance about him. Though Mrs. Bentley had her own box at Drury Lane, it was unthinkable to make use of it. Ariana would be accosted with an onslaught of curiosity were she to appear anywhere but in Mr. Mornay’s box. She did not feel ready to face such an inquisition.

  Another disturbing factor was the lack of news from home. The longer her time away, the more it vexed her. She might return home, she thought, simply to get an explanation. She was restless and bored without Mr. Mornay’s company at any rate. The only thing preventing her from acting on the plan was the small worry that her papa might not allow her to return to Hanover Square. If that were to happen she would surely never set eyes on Mr. Mornay again. And so the question of why her family had not replied to her letters remained a nagging concern.

  She moped about the house for a full week before the pall of his absence began to lift, and she came to her senses. She had forgotten the simple truth that all her steps were in God’s hands. His plans for her were the only important ones. She began to spend more time in prayer, giving all her hopes and dreams to the Lord. Indeed, she gave Mr. Mornay to Him, praying only for his salvation. And she gave her family and her worries to Him. Whatever was behind their lack of correspondence, she felt sure it could be easily explained—somehow.