Before the Season Ends (47 page)

T
he next morning Ariana wrote to Mr. Mornay, telling him of her visit with his aunt, and how they now were friends. She said nothing about her need to ask advice. And she added how eager she was to hear of his thoughts on Christianity as well as his impressions of her family.

She wrote:

I am praying for you, and for us. I am quite impatient to see you again; but do not, on any account, hurry your visit. You must allow my papa to decide when it may end. A dear friend o f mine, Miss Herley (you may remember) has asked a favour o f me. She has her heart set on Lord Antoine Holliwell, who is Lord Wingate’s younger brother, and she wishes to have you put in a good word for her with his family. Would you mind, dearest? Please let me know. Do give all my family my love—but not all my love to my family, for it most assuredly belongs to you!

I will write again soon, though I dare to hope that our next meeting will not be very far in the future. I am,

Yr loving Ariana

After sealing the missive with her aunt’s wax and leaving it on the hallway tray for Haines, who now controlled the mail exclusively, Ariana took a brief walk outdoors. A footman followed at a discreet distance.

She returned to find Mr. O’Brien waiting for her in the parlour. He was standing, having been pacing the room, but he turned with a bright smile when she entered.

“Miss Forsythe!” He bowed.

“Good day, Mr. O’Brien.” Her tone was calm. She draped off the shawl and placed it gingerly upon the brow of a wing chair. He held out his hands to her, hoping to receive hers, but when no such favour was forthcoming, he took a seat across from her and tried, in vain, to read her countenance.

She did not apologize for keeping him waiting nor inquire how long he might have done so. Instead, she waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat. “I hope you are not displeased that I have called upon you again.”

“No, not precisely. But I confess I do think ’tis best for you not to come again while Mr. Mornay is away.”

His face froze in surprise.

“You see,” she continued, “I discovered more regarding the story Mr. Chesley claimed to have knowledge of, and, to my great shame, I found I was too willing a listener to him. I was too easily betrayed into believing the worst about a man I admire—and love.”

He cleared his throat again, sat up a little straighter, and twisted uncomfortably.

“I see,” he said, unhappily.

“I heard only one part of the story from Mr. Chesley, and now I know a great deal more of it.” An uncomfortable silence followed her words. “In life, as in doctrine, partial truth is a terrible deceiver.”

His eyes were fastened to her face, and he slowly nodded agreement.

“I suppose you will no longer receive my calls—”

“I am sorry, Mr. O’Brien. But you may feel free to call upon me and Mr. Mornay after the wedding.”

He was grateful for that little kindness, though it did nothing to ease his disappointment. “My dear girl, are you completely certain?” His heart was on his sleeve.

“I am.” Their eyes met. He saw that she was adamant. He grasped for a straw and found one.

“What of the business of being bound to an unbeliever?” His question was borne of desperation and they both knew it, and yet it was a valid question.

“That,” she said slowly, “is a mystery you must place at God’s feet. As I have. I am bound, by duty, honour, and love, to marry Mr. Mornay.”

Mr. O’Brien slumped back in his seat, and then slowly gathered himself and stood up.

“I wish you every happiness, Miss Forsythe. I pray that you may never come to regret your decision.”

“Thank you.” She saw how defeated his expression was, and her heart felt a stirring of pity. “But do let us be friends, Mr. O’Brien. Do not be angry, I pray you.”

Suddenly he felt just that: angry. But he looked into Ariana’s sweet, earnest eyes and could not remain so. She also had come to her feet and they stood only a foot or so apart.

“I can’t remain angry with you,” he conceded with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

She grasped his hand impulsively. “You are a true friend.”

“Am I?” The touch of her soft hand had instantly strengthened his earlier resolve to rescue her from the Paragon. Putting both his hands around her one, he spoke pleadingly. “I must renew my warnings to you, hoping to change your mind. How can I do otherwise if I am to be a true friend? If Mr. Mornay was not…Mr. Mornay, perhaps I would not be so persistent. But my feelings for you are such that I cannot sit idly by and witness this event.”

Ariana pulled her hand free, turning toward the door. She would not listen to a moment more of this.

“Is it because he is handsome? Rich? Is that why you are marrying him?”

This caused her to stop and whirl back around to face him.

“Sir, how can you insult me in this manner? If you are concerned for my happiness, then you will remove yourself from this house. And, as a man of God, pray for me and my betrothed.”

“I shall! I have, and I will.” He quickly joined her near the door.

Her hand was on the doorknob.

“ ‘
For what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness?’
You are the light, my dear, and are you not determined to be joined with darkness?”

When she made no reply, he reached again for her hand and held it firmly.

“Consider, my dear! You are not from the same world as Mr. Mornay! I understand that, for I understand you. I share the same faith as you.” Her continuing silence gave him courage and he continued, speaking right next to her head. “Can you not see how very different your concerns are from Mr. Mornay’s? You care about your God and your fellow human beings. He cares about his waistcoats! You are a child of the Light; he is a son of darkness. Dear, dear, Ariana, pray do not make this mistake. It shall end in unhappiness, I warrant you.”

Ariana remained speechless. Mr. O’Brien had struck forcefully the one remaining doubt in her heart. What if all her hopes, all her love, even, did not suffice to make a happy union? If they were not on the same spiritual plane, could they be one in the sense Heaven intended? What if Mr. Mornay returned and announced he had no interest in knowing God? That it was all right for Ariana to pray, attend prayer meetings and church, read her Bible and the prayer book, but that he, Phillip Mornay, would have none of it? In that case, would she not indeed be acting in a way contrary to her faith?

Mr. O’Brien knew instinctively he had hit upon something, and drew closer to her.

“I am not a perfect man; indeed, far from it. But I am certainly more able to make you the husband you deserve. And we will raise our children to know and serve God.”

Ariana stared at him, her mind racing ’til she wearied of thinking.

“We may never have the wealth of a Mr. Mornay, but we will have enough. God rewards those who seek Him, and I am certain that we shall be content. And happy.”

Mr. O’Brien studied her with deep blue, earnest eyes. He saw the fear and doubts on her face. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he lowered his tall head to her height. Ariana was no longer looking at him, but just staring ahead in disheartening thoughts. Just at the moment when Mr. O’Brien thought he would surely be able to steal a small kiss, there was a sound at the door and he straightened up guiltily. Ariana came to with a start.

For some reason Mrs. Bentley had not appeared in all this time, but suddenly one of the double doors swung wide, and Ariana gasped. There stood—not her aunt, but her father.

He walked calmly into the room, and took an appraising look at Mr. O’Brien before turning to face his daughter.

“I apologize. I could not help but to overhear some of the, ah, conversation.” Here he turned back to Mr. O’Brien. “And I must say, young man, you might have been quite right a short while ago. You
might
have been, but as it stands, you are now quite mistaken.”

“Am I, sir?” And, to Ariana, “Who is this man? Do you know him?”

Ariana was biting back a smile, listening to him with an expression of joy and fondness.

“Oh, Papa!” She rushed into his arms. They gave each other a tender kiss on the cheek.

Mr. O’Brien stood up taller and straightened his cravat. “How am I mistaken, sir, if you would be so kind as to explain?”

“I will, indeed, my good fellow. Your mistake is that you have assumed, on past evidence, that Mr. Mornay cannot be what in fact he is: a true Christian, with the truest of conviction!”

Ariana gasped and clasped her hands together. “Oh, I knew it would be so! I knew it had to be so! Oh, thank God!”

At that moment, Mr. Mornay, who had been seeing to a difficulty with one of his horses, came to the door of the room. He saw Ariana just as she opened her eyes and met his. Hers were again filled with joyful tears, and she smiled. He noticed Mr. O’Brien at that moment, and his own smile faltered, but Ariana rushed to him and threw her arms about his neck.

“Phillip! Oh, my dearest! I have you back!” They clung together in a tight embrace for a few seconds. “I am so happy! I am so very happy!”

He smiled fully then, that handsome, rare smile.

“This is precisely why I cannot resist you. Who could resist such an impulsive, generous girl?” He was prodigiously pleased with her effusive greeting and kissed her.

Meanwhile, the rector, Mr. Timmons, who had come along in Mr. Mornay’s coach, entered the room, as well as Ariana’s sister Beatrice, who had not only asked to come on the trip, but also to stay until the wedding.

At that moment, Mrs. Bentley, who had been in her study attending to her accounts, entered and saw the happy couple. She began to babble and nod and grasp everyone’s hand and shake it emphatically. She grasped Mr. O’Brien’s hand before she realized whose it was, then said, “Oh,” in a disappointed tone. He gave her a polite shake of the hand, however.

“All has ended as you wish, you can see, ma’am,” he said in resignation.

“Yes!” She was startled to find him admitting the fact placidly. “And here, Charles! When did you arrive? Why wasn’t I notified at once?”

“A servant said you did not wish to be disturbed.”

“A servant? What servant would dare not tell me of my brother’s arrival? I ought to have him horsewhipped!”

Ariana turned around, smiling. “No horsewhipping today, Aunt! It is too, too happy a day for any such thing!” She turned to face her love, still smiling, her arms still about him. Mrs. Bentley and her brother eyed the couple with satisfaction. Mr. O’Brien was moving toward the door, but he stopped by Mr. Forsythe.

“Did you witness the conversion, sir?”

Mr. Forsythe, a tall, lean man with soft eyes, looked at the young man shrewdly.

“No, sir, I did not. But I have no doubts about it taking place. Speak to the man yourself, if you like. You’ll agree that he is a child of God, I warrant you.” He eyed the gentleman with compassion. “And you can rest your mind regarding Ariana’s betrothal. The Lord was merciful to her, and to her betrothed.”

The young man looked toward the couple. “So it appears.” He took a breath and turned back to Ariana’s father. “Please give my earnest wishes to your daughter for her everlasting happiness.” He bowed, prepared to leave.

Mr. Forsythe slapped him on the back and cried, “Do not leave in despair, m’boy! The Lord will provide the right mate for you too, all in good time.”

Mr. O’Brien smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, sir. I trust that He will.”

“By the by, you must meet another of my daughters.” He motioned to Beatrice, now nearly twelve, who came forward with friendly but serious eyes.

“I’ll marry you,” she offered to Mr. O’Brien, having heard the conversation between him and her papa, and being a most discerning child.

The gentlemen laughed, which puzzled her.

“But I shall, Papa! As soon as you give your leave.”

Mr. O’Brien was touched by her youthful sincerity. He bent his tall frame to meet her at eye level. “If indeed you will marry me, little miss, then we must become friends first.” And he offered her his hand for a good handshake.

“Quite so!” she said, speaking just as she heard her mama do on many an occasion, as she accepted the friendship greeting. Already an exceedingly pretty child, Beatrice had a strong resemblance to Ariana, only with hair darker by shades, and eyes which were hazel.

While Mrs. Bentley listened to Mr. Timmons’s affectionate account
of the Paragon’s stay at her brother’s house, Ariana and her betrothed took seats upon the sofa and were gladly recounting their recent experiences to each other. Mr. Pellham was announced, and he, too, was soon shaking hands and nodding approvingly at the young couple.

Mrs. Bentley wished to give the pair some time to themselves. Perhaps her brother and Mr. Timmons were hungry? Why did they not sit at table in the dining room for some refreshment? She was feeling so benevolent, seeing how happy Mornay and her niece looked together, she even invited Mr. O’Brien. Beatrice, stopping only to receive an effusive hug and kiss from her sister, accepted Mr. O’Brien’s arm like a miniature adult. Ariana and Mr. Mornay barely noticed them all leave, too busy basking in the light of each other’s eyes.