Before the Season Ends (8 page)

“Mr. Mornay is also a leader in fashion,” continued her aunt. “Though I grant he has no desire to be. The men copy him, however, from the way he ties his cravat to his style of shoe. What ninnies some men are!” She paused, looked at Ariana, and asserted, “The thing you must know about him, Ariana, is that he has no patience for young misses. It seems that every season there is a young female who is determined to ruin herself, and Mr. Mornay is obliging enough to provide her with the means.”

“How terrible!”

“No, not in the way you think,” she replied. “Mornay is a difficult, angry sort of man, and quite a favorite among the
ton
—but he never misuses a female bodily. I must grant him that. All he does, actually, is—well,
nothing!
He ignores the chit who is foolish enough to set her cap at him. And that is all he must do to assure her ruin. Her chances in society from then on are forever gone!”

“But why, Aunt Bentley? If there has been no impropriety?”

“Well, in some cases, the lady goes into a decline, though, mind you, I never believe in declines; I maintain they are a fiction for the purpose of arousing sympathy. But they rarely work.” She paused. “In other cases, it is simply because society loves to love Mornay! If he pointedly snubs a woman—or a man, for that matter—other people
quickly follow suit. He is a rogue of the first order, not because he particularly tries to be, but because he makes no effort not to be.”

Her aunt drew out a handkerchief and wiped an imaginary drop of perspiration from her brow. “He is handsome, of great consequence, and unmarried. Were he married, I assure you, he would swiftly lose some of his power of influence.” To Ariana’s startled look, she added, “These are the ways, my gel, of society.”

D
uring supper that evening, Aspindon was again on Mrs. Bentley’s mind. “Mrs. Royleforst is playing hostess but it is unthinkable she would not require her nephew’s presence—after all, it is his estate. So pray, remember to give that man a wide berth.”

Ariana nodded.

“I daresay it will not be difficult for you; Mornay is ever discretionary and he manages to avoid more people than not. But keep in mind to stay away from him, because he can only mean trouble for a young lady.”

Ariana decided earnestly to follow her aunt’s advice in all points. She did not want trouble in any form, particularly on her first society outing.

Allowing a footman to put a serving of asparagus on her dish, she asked, “Will Mr. Pellham accompany us?”

Her aunt gave her a sideways glance. “Mr. Pellham does not…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “He does not endeavor to put himself forward.”

“You mean backwards,” a voice said, as Mr. Pellham himself entered the room. He was such a frequent visitor that his appearance was no longer announced by a servant, and both Ariana and Mrs. Bentley greeted him with smiles of pleasant surprise.

“It would be a great step backward for me to waste my time among a bunch of fops and lily-hoppers, who do nothing more than admire
one another all day.” With an easy air of familiarity he sat down adjacent to Mrs. Bentley and continued, “What’s more, when they are not admiring each other, they are lambasting one another. I have no patience for such foolery.”

Ariana stifled a grin.

A footman offered Mr. Pellham a plate that he declined with a wave of his hand, but a decanter of some liquid was brought and poured into his glass as if in the usual manner.

“Randolph would rather spend a quiet evening before a fire with one of his treasured volumes than a week at the finest country house,” Aunt Bentley intoned dryly.

There was a silence, which Ariana broke by saying, “But fine country houses contain things that are worthy of admiration, even contemplation; paintings, old tapestries and styles of furniture, architecture. And old stories.”

“Quite true, my dear,” Mr. Pellham said, holding up his glass to Ariana. “I have no argument with
touring
the houses, it is having to talk with the owners which I find provoking.” He took a sip from the glass and said, “Now, if more young ladies had the education and sense I find in your niece, Mrs. B., perhaps I might feel differently.” Mrs. Bentley looked up from her food, which she had been absorbed in eating, but said nothing.

“Oh, dear,” Ariana replied. “Do not compare me to those in the finest houses. I am sure they must be better educated than I!”

Mr. Pellham shook his head. “No, my dear, you mistake the matter. You are thinking that refinement and money go hand in hand. I assure you that, more often than one would think, such is not the case. This is precisely my contention with the aristocracy. With all their money and influence, they should be making the inventions. Exploring the planet! Bettering the condition of mankind.” He gave a sidelong glance at Mrs. Bentley, who was paying him little heed. “Instead, they fuss over neckcloths and waistcoats and phaetons.”

“Randolph, you simply do not understand that these things
are
evidences of refinement.” Ariana’s aunt had been listening, after all. “Taste! Only the well-bred man or woman has it.”

“Bah!” He shook his head. “At any rate, Miss Ariana—”

“Randolph, you must address her as Miss Forsythe. I have quite decided upon her being Miss Forsythe.”

“But Aunt,” Ariana objected. “My sister is Miss Forsythe, Alberta, the eldest. I cannot use her address.”

Mrs. Bentley held up one hand. “I am determined upon this point, Ariana. I want no talk of your sister’s betrothal to a country squire; in fact, we must allow no talk of your elder sister at all, to be safe, which I assure you will occur if society knows you are not the eldest. And since your sister is not in London there is really no impropriety in using “Miss Forsythe” for your address. It is done, I assure you.”

Ariana felt indignant. It wasn’t done by her family, and she’d never heard of such a thing in Chesterton. She would write home and ask Mama’s opinion. She also felt defensive and her words confirmed it. “My sister’s betrothal is a proud fact, ma’am, and a triumph. Mr. Norledge is a Christian man above reproach, and from a fine old family.”

“He is from an old family, you say?” She sounded doubtful. “Well, that is all very good, but I assure you I am only doing what is best on your account. Do not be affronted, my gel. No lady without a title, in my opinion, can sound quite dignified if her first name must be given at every introduction. And young ladies, especially, do not want to give the impression of being
missish
any more than they must on account of their youth.”

“It does not seem honest, ma’am,” she said, plainly.

“If your sister was in London, I should agree with you. But on account of her being in Chesterton, there is no harm in your using the designation. Enough of this! You will quickly grow accustomed to it, and I must insist upon this while you are in my charge.” She studied her niece with a mildly dissatisfied expression. “In using this address for you I feel quite justified, for it is not misleading to allow anyone to think you are worthy of a high match, since you are indeed worthy on
account of me. Talk of Squire Norledge could jeopardize our position. But there. Enough said.”

Worthy of a high match?
Was that indeed her aunt’s goal for her? Papa had been right in guessing as much. She thrust the thought from her mind, reasoning that no husband could be forced upon her, aunt or no aunt; else her parents would not have let her come.

Mr. Pellham cleared his throat and said, “Let us return to our discussion of London sights. Miss Forsythe, you will tell me which places you most wish to see, and I will endeavour to assemble a schedule for us so that we might do as much as possible in an efficient manner.”

“How good of you, Mr. Pellham!” Ariana’s large, pretty eyes sparkled across the table at him. “I will make a list this very night!”

“Make your list if you must,” Mrs. Bentley said, “but, Randolph, I insist Ariana will do nothing but be at my disposal this week for fittings and shopping, and who knows but that we may pay a few morning calls?” She strove to sound patient, but everyone in the room knew she was taxed at the least discussion of cultural exhibits.

“Please recall, Randolph, that my niece’s purpose is to become a part of society, not to provide you with an excuse for roaming the town. I know you long to do so, but Ariana is accompanying me to Aspindon, and she must be prepared!”

Her tone clearly said, “End of discussion.” Mr. Pellham winked at Ariana and stroked his moustache.

“Aspindon…is that not Mr. Mor
nou’s
estate?”

“ ’Tis Mr. Mor
nay’s
estate. How
can
you ruin a beautiful name like Mornay?” She swallowed a bite of food, and added, “Just think! A picnic on the grounds of Aspindon! The cream of the
ton
will be there. All the finest food, I am certain. ’Tis a rare treat, even for me.”

Mrs. Bentley’s face lit up with the thought of the coming day. “And who knows but that Mrs. Royleforst has arranged for us to see some small portion of the mansion?”

“One can always hope,” Mr. Pellham said, in a droll voice. “Do be good enough to keep your niece far from that beast of a man.”

Mrs. Bentley finished the last bite of food on her plate and said, “Mr. Mornay is not agreeable, I grant. But he is no beast, Randolph.”

“Well,” he replied, drying his moustache with a linen napkin from the table, “in any case, when your outdoor picnic is over, perhaps Miss Forsythe and I can have our outing.”

Since her aunt did not object, Ariana remarked that she would be happy to do so, beginning, she thought, with the British Museum. “I have longed to see it,” she added, “since learning it was formerly Montagu House; they say the painted staircase alone is worth the trip. Did you know, Aunt, that the first Duke of Montagu kept his second wife there, a poor mad creature, hidden from all her relations, and convinced that she was the Empress of China?”

To their interested expressions, she continued, “The duke had masqueraded himself as the Emperor of China to win her hand because it came with a great fortune, and she was mad, and wouldn’t have anyone less. I have long wished to see the place.”

“The Empress of China!” laughed Mrs. Bentley. “Upon my word, I fancy accompanying you when you visit.”

“A capital idea, Mrs. B.!” Mr. Pellham was delighted. And so it was settled that the British Museum would be first on their agenda, and that Mrs. Bentley would join them, though artifacts and paintings, not Chinese Empresses, would be on the palate.

Early Friday morning, they were finally situated in Mrs. Bentley’s best traveling coach, en route to Middlesex and the picnic at Aspindon. Ariana was all excitement. The modiste had been able to complete only one good promenade, or walking-out dress, in so short a time, but it was a sweet confection of white jaconet muslin with pink trim on the sleeves, the empire waist, and skirt edge. It had a high collar edged with lace, and a ribbon sash that formed a bow in back. Beneath the bow was a frilly pink trim that ran down the length of the gown in two columns, accentuating Ariana’s tall, lithe figure. The sleeves were
puffed and short, but there was a sturdy velvet spencer to wear over, which Ariana was especially thankful for, given the brisk weather.

She felt smart in her new clothing, and marveled at the luxurious attire upon her aunt, besides the comfort and elegance of the carriage. Mrs. Bentley wore a gown of figured silk, a matching turban with a fluffy ostrich feather, a good amount of jewels, and a gold-threaded shawl, which finished a look of comfortable opulence. She had a penchant for jewelery, but somehow it never looked overdone to the point of poor taste. Ariana realized her relation was satisfied only with the best—of just about everything. Not only wardrobe, but Ariana herself was expected to display superior accomplishments, and to behave with impeccable manners. Any flaw, no matter how trifling, was not beneath her aunt’s notice.

Over the past week, Mrs. Bentley had put Ariana through the ordeal of demonstrating her abilities. She was asked to play the pianoforte, which Ariana knew she could do only tolerably. When she began playing a simple melody, the lady frowned and said, “She will need a tutor,” to Mr. Pellham, who was listening and nodding.