Before the Season Ends (45 page)

“Not today, Lavinia,” Ariana said. It would be unwise for her, since she could possibly be discovered alone by Mr. O’Brien, and
that
she wanted to avoid.

Later, however, when they were all seated upon blankets and eating, Mr. Chesley came abreast of Ariana and Miss Herley and bowed deeply, waiting to be noticed.

“Why, Mr. Chesley,” said Lavinia, in a droll voice. “What gives us the pleasure of your company? I understood you were unable to attend our picnic.”

He cleared his throat. “I had another engagement, yes, but as it has been met, and I am now free, I thought I would join you after all.”

“Well, how perfectly agreeable.” Lavinia smiled pleasantly.

“I must pay my respects to your friend,” he said, looking at Ariana, who had said nothing as yet. “Or is she too good for the likes of me, now that she is engaged to the Paragon?” This was a parry meant to require her attention, and it worked, for she looked up at him.

“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Chesley. Good day.”

He looked back at Miss Herley. “May I join you?” Lavinia made room for him, so that he sat between the girls. He turned to Ariana,
who concentrated intently on the cluster of grapes in her hand, refusing to look at him.

“I heard the banns for your wedding; I suppose I should congratulate you.”

Lavinia laughed out loud. “Of course you should, you horrible boy!”

“But how can I?” he said as if carrying a secret. “When this innocent creature is to marry such a man?”

“I beg your pardon!” Ariana was instantly offended.

“Indeed, Mr. Chesley,” cried Lavinia. She hit his knee with her fan for emphasis. “How provoking you are! I insist you apologize this instant.”

“Dear me,” he said, affectedly. “Have I offended you? If you only understood. That is, if you knew the vile deeds of your intended—”

“Mr. Chesley! You are indeed provoking!” Ariana rose to her feet. “You have no right to speak against a man who is not present to defend himself!”

“Indeed, Harold! And you must endeavour to be polite to Miss Forsythe in any case, no matter what you think of her betrothed.”

“But I am being better than polite. I have the noblest of intentions, desiring to rescue this wandering lamb from future distress.” He gave Ariana a shrewd look to see what effect his comments were having.

“I am in distress,” she concurred, “only on account of your ill-chosen remarks.”

He got to his feet, and Lavinia hurried to do likewise. They joined Ariana, forming a small circle.

“What I know of Phillip Mornay compels me to distress you, and must be my excuse; if you only understood—and when I think I may yet spare you from a disastrous mistake—”

Ariana turned to go.

“Ariana, stay, I beg you!” Lavinia begged her with her eyes. “Mr. Chesley can be provoking, I grant you, but he is not a fabricator. Perhaps he does know of something significant. Perhaps you will thank him in the end.”

“Perhaps you have allowed your curiosity to overcome your better judgment, Lavinia.” She straightened her gown. “If there is anything significant I must know regarding Mr. Mornay, he will tell me himself.”

“Mornay has a dark past!” Mr. Chesley instantly asserted. “Most of it has somehow been buried; but I have managed to get my hands on something that you, Miss Forsythe, could surely not allow in a man you would marry! I say that with conviction, knowing your piety.”

Ariana blanched, but then gathered her strength. “I do not listen to hearsay.”

Mr. Chesley called loudly. “It concerns your Mr. Mornay and a young woman near your own age.” Ariana stopped. Mr. O’Brien, standing nearby and surveying the situation, heard the last statement and came to hear the matter. Lavinia grasped Ariana’s arm, turning her around to hear it as well. Ariana dreaded hearing anything from Mr. Chesley regarding Phillip, for she knew he was bound to be unfair, but she was torn. Taking her hesitation as tacit permission to continue—or perhaps not—Mr. Chesley spoke softly but effectively to the little group, sharing his revelation. When it was done, Ariana was blinking back tears, but her face held a determined look to it. Lavinia went to her and gave her an embrace.

Mr. O’Brien called the following day and remained in the parlour for a full twenty-five minutes.

Mrs. Bentley did not like it. “What are you thinking? To see a gentleman while your betrothed is out of town—it isn’t done, my dear. The last thing you want is a breath of scandal.”

“Scandalous things are not uncommon in this society.” Her words were edged with bitterness. “I think I must welcome a scandal, ma’am, if that is what it takes to end my betrothal.”

Mrs. Bentley stared at her, aghast, her hand going over her heart.

“What is the meaning of this?” It came out as a gasp.

Ariana’s face softened. “I am sorry to lay it upon you so rudely, dear
Aunt, but I could not think how to tell you.” She rose from her seat and paced the room; her two slim hands came together and she raised them to her lips and nodded to herself, as if deciding upon a thing. She lowered them again and turned to face her aunt.

“I have learned something. Something about Mr. Mornay. And I—I cannot abide it!”

“What have you heard? And from whom?”

Ariana told her the source of her information.

“And you believe him?” Aunt Bentley’s face contorted into a great scowl.

“I do.” Her tone was subdued; resigned. “Everything I know about Phillip tells me it is true.”

“What has Chesley told you?”

The lady came and stood eye to eye with her niece. Ariana could tell her aunt was agitated and upset, but there was something else she saw in the watery blue eyes of her relation which Ariana was sure Mrs. Bentley did not wish to reveal:
fear.
Her aunt was afraid of what she might have learned! Was this not more evidence of the truth of the matter? Her heart sank even further.

“Well?”

“It happened when Mr. Mornay was young.” Ariana decided to sit down, and her aunt did likewise. “I think during his years at Eton, though I am not certain. He befriended a young girl whose family had suffered financial ruin some time earlier.” Ariana’s eyes were far away; her voice was wooden. “His father demanded an end to the relationship, and in response—” she lowered her head, but could not hide the tears in her voice. “He—he—fathered a child with her. And then, when his father would still not allow a marriage, he—heartlessly—abandoned her! And his own child!”

She looked up to see a frank look of doubt on her aunt’s face.

“I cannot believe it. Another man, Ariana, but not Phillip Mornay. He has ever—until you—avoided women, particularly young ones. I have never known him to be affiliated with a single dishonourable scandal involving a female.”

Ariana crossed her arms. “Well, you know of one, now. And I daresay it was this that caused him to avoid others, later on.”

Mrs. Bentley pressed her lips together. “Even
if
that tale is true, which I doubt, it was long ago. What Mornay did when he was hardly out of shortcoats has nothing to do with the man he is today! I should think that you, of all people, would be most acutely conscious of that, for I daresay he has found himself another young woman, who, in contrast to his own wealth is poor, has he not? And I think I may say he has not behaved improperly to you.”

Ariana was silent as she thought on this.

“Perhaps not; but his will has not been crossed in our case. If his father were alive and wished to block the wedding, I wonder how he should have behaved to me, then!”

“Now you’re talking fustian! He is a different man today. And his will has most certainly been blocked,” she said, with large eyes, “by you!” She nervously played at the beads around her throat. “He is offering you all that is his, Ariana! Can you truly hold against him what he did as a young buck, with barely enough brains, I daresay, to get himself dressed each day?”

“He abandoned a woman with child! It is too heartless! It—it frightens me!” She laid her head upon her hands. Her aunt gave a little frown. If only there was some way of disproving the tale—she felt certain it could not be true or she would have known about the incident. It wasn’t easy to keep such things suppressed.

“It is no doubt a mere Banbury tale,” she said aloud. “Mr. Chesley has seen his hopes dashed by Mornay and he seeks to put himself in your favour. Is not anything more clear than that?”

Ariana thought for a moment. If only Mr. Mornay would return! She could speak to him about it, as difficult as that would be. She supposed it was only fair to give him that chance. Suddenly an idea struck her and she looked up.

“Perhaps there is more to the story than I have heard. If you will call the carriage for my use, I believe I must go see Mrs. Royleforst!” She was herself surprised to have reached that conclusion, but she felt
instinctively she must speak to someone she could trust was not hoping to sway her emotions negatively toward Mr. Mornay.

“Yes, do!” cried her aunt. “But upon my honour, Ariana, this is no great transgression that you cannot overlook!” She stopped in surprise. “Upon my honour, Ariana! ’Tis a rhyme!
Upon my honour, Ariana.
”

Ariana raised her eyes to the ceiling and went for her bonnet, while her aunt, still repeating the phrase, went for the bellpull to order the carriage.

M
rs. Royleforst’s neighbourhood lacked the aura of wealth that Mayfair possessed, but it was yet highly respectable. Ariana’s arrival, therefore, when she came forth from the expensive carriage, drew only a few curious glances.

She was wearing a pale blue walking gown with long sleeves and a deep muslin ruff. There were rows of embroidery across the bodice and down the sleeves, ending with a slightly ruffled wrist and hem at the ankles. A matching bonnet with yellow silk ribbons and a little feathery puff, and a light, woven shawl completed her appearance. Her long hair was curled in ringlets and pinned up within her hat, except for a few tendrils that peeked out prettily.

A servant admitted Ariana to a comfortable parlour. When Mrs. Royleforst came into the room using a walking stick, Ariana realized she had some lameness in one leg. She slowly made her way to the sofa where Ariana sat, and then came and heavily seated herself upon the far cushion.

“Well!” she exclaimed, after settling herself. “So you’ve come to be friends, have you?” Before Ariana could answer, she added, “Sensible thing to do, very sensible, since we are now relations. Well, very soon to be.”

“I do indeed wish to be friends.”

Mrs. Royleforst feasted her eyes on Ariana, who had acquired the difficult art of looking completely comfortable in the latest fashions.
She was overjoyed that her fastidious nephew had found a wife, and she, too, wanted above all things to be on good terms with Phillip’s choice. She hoped to be included in their family, for nothing would please her better than to have youngsters about her skirts.

In the past, even
she
dared not urge her nephew to find a wife. He would allow no discussion of the matter, and one might as well say, ‘Do let us be as uncivil as possible to one another, eh?’ For that is how he reacted. Her aging nerves and sensibilities were simply not able to withstand such treatment any more. It was a great relief to have the matter nearly settled.

And so she nodded approvingly at Ariana. “And so do I, dearie. And so do I.”

She then asked Miss Bluford, who had sat down as one of the company, to fetch the tea tray. When the door shut behind the skinny companion, Ariana turned to her hostess.

“I was hoping to speak with you privately, Mrs. Royleforst.”

“Oh, no, I am no longer ‘Mrs. Royleforst’ to you, my dear. You must call me Aunt, now.”

“Thank you, Aunt Royleforst. But I have an urgent matter, about Mr. Mornay, which I need you to advise me on.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Royleforst’s red eyes grew round, and could almost be called large.

“Do not say,” she replied after a moment’s contemplation, “that it is a matter of costume. You must know that I have no talent in that regard. Phillip himself is the one to—”

“No, Mrs.—I mean, Aunt. No, ’tis nothing like that. Something of greater significance, I assure you.”