Before the Season Ends

by Linore Rose Burkard

  It helped that Lord Horatio called. Ariana had already received a visitor who mentioned seeing Mr. Mornay the previous evening. She stayed outwardly calm at hearing this, but inside her heart was churning with the thought that he had returned.

  “My dear Miss Forsythe,” his lordship said, with a sincere smile, and neat bow. “ ’Tis delightful to see you.”

  Ariana had received him wearing a morning gown that draped her tall frame gracefully. Her hair was in ringlets about her head, decorated with a wide band of taffeta. Mrs. Bentley joined them in the parlour, happy to see Ariana receiving guests again.

  When he was seated and small talk was out of the way, his lordship looked directly at Ariana. “Are you well, Miss Forsythe? No one sees you about of late; are you hiding yourself at home?”

  “I am home a great deal, but not in hiding, my lord!” she replied.

  “She is far too much at home, your lordship, but cannot be pulled from her books and the fireside,” Aunt Bentley offered. “Why do not you insist upon her going out? She will listen to you.” Lord Horatio looked in consternation at Ariana, who was directing a patient look at her relation. He said, in a low tone, “ ’Tis said you are suffering a decline; on account of Mornay, you know.” Ariana’s mouth gaped in indignation for a second.

  “Upon my word!” she said at last. “People have far too little to do if they must continually invent calamities!”

  Lord Horatio smiled. “Indeed; nevertheless I insist, as your aunt suggested, that you leave your house more often and be seen wearing smiles. The talk has begun, and your parlour is bound to be full in the next few days with the curious—unless you act now and nip it in the bud.”

  “The talk has begun,” she repeated. “By whom?”

  Her richly dressed friend shrugged. “Does one ever know? The point is, once in circulation it only gets worse.”

  Ariana eyed him gratefully. “Thank you for calling and letting me know. I will be sure to resume my morning ride in the park tomorrow.”

  “Come for a drive with me now. The sun is out, and though the air has a chill, it is a fine, clear day.” His tone was soft, but not so much that Mrs. Bentley hadn’t heard.

  “How kind of you! Do go, my gel!”

  But her niece needed no persuasion. She thanked his lordship and went to get her bonnet and pelisse while he checked that his curricle was still at the curb. Sometimes the groom would walk the horses if they became impatient—but there it was, a neat equipage on two wheels that was just the thing for a drive about town.

  Soon he and Ariana were seated in the vehicle and he snapped the reins to set off. They began moving smartly down the Square, turning onto Brook Street. Mayfair was usually busy with delivery carts and wagons, strollers, posh carriages, and passers-by. They waved gaily at anyone they knew and Ariana made it a point to give especially brilliant smiles. A carriage stopped by theirs near Berkeley Square, causing Lord Horatio to pull up the horses abruptly, all so that one lady could tell Miss Forsythe she was much relieved to see her out and about. His lordship then had an idea.

  “Would a turn through the park be agreeable, Miss Forsythe?”

  It was earlier than the fashionable “hour” for being seen, which meant the lanes would be less crowded and they could actually enjoy the scenery. On a whim he added, “Why do we not pass by Grosvenor Square on the way and see if Mornay is about?” Ariana stiffened at mention of his name, but did not demur.

  Grosvenor Square was not on the way. It would have been more direct had they gone straight down Mount Street to Park Lane, but Ariana was not aware of this. The suggestion to pass by the Paragon’s establishment was made in such a breezy tone, however, that she looked at her companion suspiciously. Was he testing her for a reaction?

  As they approached the square, her pulse quickened. Lord Horatio diverted her by naming many of the grand houses they were passing, and telling brief facts about the owners. When they drew near Mornay’s house, his lordship cried, “Good luck! ’Tis the man himself!” He slowed the equipage and Mr. Mornay, who was affectionately stroking the mane of one of his horses and speaking softly in its ear, looked up as they came aside him.

  “Are you coming or going?” Her companion’s voice was jolly.

  Mr. Mornay issued instructions to his groom who led off the team, and stepped over to where they had stopped in the street. He bowed to Ariana, looking at her with keen interest.

  “I’ve just returned home. What are you about?”

  “Headed for the park. Just taking a drive.”

  Mornay turned his attention to Ariana. “How do you do, Miss Forsythe?”

  “Well, I thank you.” she said, trying to decide whether to disguise or admit her pleasure. “And you? Are you well?”

  He gave only a short nod for answer. “Are you certain you’re well? I have heard otherwise.” His look was mildly reproving.

  “I have been home a great deal, but aside from that there is no foundation for what you heard,” she assured him.

  He nodded again, noting that the sparkle in her eyes had not diminished, nor the colour in her cheeks. Without thinking, he said, “Thank you, Horatio.” He stepped back and gave another short bow to Ariana.

  “What did he thank you for?” She felt as though she had missed something of the interaction.

  Lord Horatio came to attention and looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shrugged.

  “I suppose for stopping by.” He turned and gave her a guarded look. He did not mention Mornay’s concern about the rumour of a decline, or that he had expressed his wish to see Miss Forsythe, but dared not call upon her himself. The scheme of going by his house had been Lord Horatio’s impulse and it had paid off; Mornay got to see his little protégée.

  The following day Ariana took that early ride in the park accompanied by her aunt’s groom on another mount. She went down the Ladies’ Mile and stopped to chat with more than a few acquaintances. She returned home and had only changed into a morning gown when callers began to arrive. By late afternoon Ariana felt certain all question of her having fallen into a decline must have surely been put to rest. Lavinia and her mama were the last callers, for they, too, had heard the rumour.

  “Tomorrow I have determined to accompany you to the museum you have longed to see,” Lavinia announced, “if you have no previous engagements.”

  “I haven’t!”

  “Excellent! Mama says our coachman may take us. I’ll come for you at eleven o’clock!”

  Ariana had seen Lavinia often at balls and card parties, but this was the first time they would spend all day in each other’s company. She dressed excitedly, urging Harrietta to hurry with her hair so she would be ready on time. There was already a pencil and paper in her reticule so she could take notes for Mr. Pellham’s sake. He would enjoy hearing her account read aloud.

  When the Herleys’ coach rumbled to a stop at the curb Ariana called out to notify her aunt, and then hurried through the front door to the carriage. To her surprise, there were two gentlemen with Lavinia. She was introduced to one Lord Antoine Holliwell, and Mr. O’Brien was introduced to her, with the information that she and he had similar interests in religion. She shot Lavinia a knowing look, catching on immediately that the meeting was no coincidence.

  As they rode through London streets, she discovered that Mr. O’Brien hoped to enter the church. There was a living in his parish that was soon to be vacated and he had high expectations it would be given him. His sincere love for the church and God gave his speech an animation that was endearing. He even mentioned things from his private devotions that reassured Ariana that his was a genuine faith.

  Her parents had raised her almost as a Methodist (which would have been shocking to many of her acquaintance, had she told them) though they never renounced the Anglican faith. Her papa had strong sympathies with the Methodists and the Dissenters. So this upbringing included discernment to see the difference between a minister who took his vocation as a sacred calling versus the
one who viewed it as merely an occupation that paid the bills. It was the difference between what the Methodists would call soul-saving faith versus mere religion. It was immensely heartening for Ariana to finally make the acquaintance of a person who understood the same distinction.

  Mr. O’Brien had light, sandy-coloured hair. He was tall and slim and good-natured. His appearance was neat and clean, and his voice gentle and earnest. Ariana liked him at once. He, in turn, was fascinated with Miss Forsythe. She was, indeed, too good to be true! A lady of faith that echoed his own and with such beauty as made his heart quake.

  When the coach rolled to a stop Ariana looked eagerly out the window but was disappointed to see a row of circular townhouses, recognizing Burton Crescent, where the Herleys lived.

  “Lavinia? What of the museum?”

  “Museum?” Mr. O’Brien looked blank. He evidently knew nothing of it.

  “Oh, dear me, how could I have forgot to tell you?” Lavinia giggled. “I am dreadfully sorry; I promised Lord Antoine a grand meal at our table. Pray, do not be cross and hold it against me. I will make it up to you, my dear Ariana, I give you my word as your friend!” When she saw that Ariana was out of countenance she turned to Lord Antoine.

  “You see? She is disappointed!” Then, to Ariana, she added, “I insist you forgive me, for it was Lord Antoine, you must know, who would not be agreeable to visiting the museum.”

  “Guilty as charged,” said the young man, holding his hands up in a gesture of admission. He did not bother to apologize, however, and Ariana did indeed feel cross. Lavinia giggled again at something his lordship said as they exited the coach. Mr. O’Brien alone seemed cognizant of the degree of Ariana’s disappointment, though he had no hand in causing it. He looked at her gravely and apologized for her dissatisfaction.

  “There was no mention of a museum outing to me.” He helped her from the carriage by lightly holding one hand.

  “No? But Miss Herley agreed only yesterday that we should go today. I am astonished she has changed the plan without informing me.”

  He nodded, but then smiled shyly. “I was told I was to endeavour to offset your loneliness.” When she only looked up at him in surprise, he added, “With Mr. (here he stopped and swallowed) Mornay away.”

  Ariana blushed. “I assure you there is no need. Mr. Mornay and I are…” He watched her hopefully. “Only acquaintances.”

  “That’s splendid!” He came up short and said, “I beg your pardon. I only meant—” His eyes were a torment of confusion, making her laugh.

  “I know what you meant, Mr. O’Brien.”

  The day at the Herleys’ passed pleasantly. When Lavinia had a moment she confided to Ariana she had been loath to change their plans but it had been necessary since it gave her the opportunity to entertain his lordship.

  “You have your Mr. Mornay, and you have made all the most splendid connexions, but I made none. Can you understand, Ariana, why I had to do as his lordship wanted? I daresay Mama would have disowned me if I muddled this chance. She has ever had her heart set on my making a match with a nobleman!”

  “Miss Herley?” They both heard his lordship’s voice, but it was further back in the house and not an immediate threat. They spoke hurriedly.

  “I understand. But please do not refer to the man as ‘my’ Mr. Mornay. That is not the case.”

  “Perhaps not any longer,” she said, taking a quick glance around to be certain no one had found them out. “But you are by all accounts a success, while I am still, in this my second season, alone.”

  Suddenly Lavinia had tears in her eyes and she almost shocked Ariana with a hug.

  “My dear! I believe he really finds me agreeable! I’m so…frightened!” She whispered heavily into Ariana’s ear.

  “Why are you frightened?” Ariana asked. “If he finds you agreeable, surely that is a good thing.”

  Lavinia wiped her eyes hastily, using her skirt. She didn’t meet Ariana’s eyes, but said, “You are a such comfort to me, my dear.”

  Ariana was puzzled, but there was no time for further discussion. Lord Antoine appeared in the doorway, a look of satisfaction on his face for locating Miss Herley. Mr. O’Brien was playing with the younger members of the family in the parlour, and Ariana regarded the scene with a little smile.

  Later, when the carriage was summoned to take Ariana home, it was well into the evening. Both gentlemen were to accompany her in the carriage before being delivered to their own residences. Ariana was grateful the drive went quickly; she did not enjoy Lord Antoine in the least, and Mr. O’Brien’s constant attempts to converse became tiresome. She felt weary.

  She did, however, give Mr. O’Brien leave to call upon her. He asked her permission shyly, which was unnecessary because she was quite happy to have made his acquaintance: a man of respectability, a good countenance, and sincere religion!

  He called two days later. Ariana was riding in Hyde Park with a friend and missed his visit, but her aunt had not.

  “Ariana, a third son!” Ariana was still in her riding habit, but Mrs. Bentley would not be put off. She followed her niece right into her chamber to complain.

  “He will get nothing. Nothing!”

  Ariana patiently explained why his friendship was of value to her, besides the fact that she found him utterly agreeable.

  Her aunt stared at her wide-eyed. “He will get nothing! Are you comprehending me?”

  “My dear Aunt,” and she gave her relative her most patient look. “You must know that my first concern is not with the size of a man’s fortune or inheritance.”

  “Then let it be your second concern,” came the reply, spoken dryly. “Goodness knows it will concern you the rest of your life.” Ariana raised her eyes heavenward. She could no more deny Mr. O’Brien the chance to strengthen their acquaintance than she could wish away her attraction to Mr. Mornay. Life, she was beginning to realize, came at you with its hands full, but what it held in its hands did not always obey the rules of your mind or heart—or even your better judgment.

  She knew that Mrs. Bentley had written a list with the names of wealthy gentlemen, and was planning on inviting them, one at a time, to dinner to better acquaint them with her and emphasize her availability. Mr. Mornay had cleared the way for Ariana to be accepted in the most aristocratic gatherings in town. Her aunt had seized that happenstance to issue invitations to the most aristocratic unmarried men available. And yet Ariana sighed with relief whenever regrets came by mail or messenger. Most people’s calendars it seemed, had little room for new invitations at mid-season.

  Mr. O’Brien called three times in which he failed to find Miss Forsythe at home. On the fourth occasion, he was informed she was home, but busy entertaining other callers. He left a card each time, which was getting irksome, for he had no wish to order new ones. He tried, since obtaining the little cards with his name on them, to make them last.

  Finally the day came when the young man managed to find Ariana at home. Mrs. Bentley sat stiffly in the parlour determined to give them no time alone. No matter. Ariana enjoyed their conversation very much, even when it was evident they held different views regarding the providence of God in the affairs of men. They held lively discourse over the topic while Mrs. Bentley sat by yawning. The older woman was relieved when she could announce that the proper time for a polite call had passed.

  Taking Ariana to see Mr. Pellham more often was an excuse to remove her from the parlour. Besides, Mrs. Bentley was growing alarmed at Mr. Pellham’s slow rate of recovery. She sometimes wearied of her hours at his side playing cards, or letting him read aloud from a travel book, though, so Ariana played at cards with him, or sometimes chess. There was not much else the man could still enjoy without his usual freedom.

  Twenty

  Shortly after the day at Lavinia’s house, Ariana was sitting quietly in the library reading when a footman found her there.

  “Your presence, mum, is needed in the parlour.”

  “Is there a calle
r?”

  “Ay, mum, and the mistress is still out.”

  Ariana straightened her gown and ran her hand over her hair which was done up in the usual way. She was glad that, if Mr. O’Brien was calling, her aunt was not yet returned. But when she opened the door to the parlour, the man who quickly spun around from the window to offer a polite bow was Phillip Mornay.

  Ariana greeted him with a brief curtsey. “How nice of you to call.” She made an effort to keep her greeting polite and calm, rather than effusive. “Have you been offered refreshments?” Haines knew to do that, but it seemed a safe thing to say.

  “I have, thank you.”

  She motioned for him to take a seat.

  He seemed to be studying Ariana as at their last meeting. When several awkwardly silent moments had passed, Mr. Mornay asked, “Do you expect your aunt soon?”

  “I cannot say; she went making calls to her dowager friends,” Ariana replied. Mr. Mornay nodded. Then after a few more seconds of awkward silence, he said, “I hoped to ask her leave to take you from the house, today. There is a couple in my coach at this moment—friends of mine—and we thought you might find it agreeable to join us on a visit to Vauxhall. ’Twas an impulsively made decision, and I apologize for the lack of notice.”

  But Ariana’s face lit up. “I would like that very much, I thank you.”

  “Are you certain your aunt would give you leave?”

  Ariana gave a wry grin, and said, “Mrs. Bentley would no sooner deny you, sir, than the king or queen!”

  He nodded again and another small silence ensued.

  “I am pleased to see you’re looking well,” he offered.

  “As are you,” Ariana returned the compliment and then excused herself to make ready for the outing. She hurried pell-mell to her chamber (after quietly closing the door on her guest) to change from slippers into a pair of leather half-boots, her heart soaring. She certainly hadn’t expected Mr. Mornay to call on her again! She prayed for him each and every night, and had shed a few tears, but she had been making steady progress in removing him from her thoughts. Until now.