At the country residence of Lofton Hall, Mrs. Ostenby presided over her seven children in a somewhat unusual circumstance, as the dowager performed the duties of both mistress and master of the house. She ensured that domestic affairs ran smoothly, balanced the household accounts and kept them in order, and under her steady hand the family flourished in all aspects social and financial even some eleven years after her husband's death. Indeed, the family prospered to a higher degree than when its patriarch still lived. Perhaps that is why Mrs. Ostenby never remarried: she herself was more than capable of running the entire estate, and in the ensuing decade she had realized that the whims of men could only prove a hindrance to her pursuit of absolute domestic felicity.
It was this same self-assured nature that earned the widow her title of the neighborhood's undisputed matriarch. Mrs. Ostenby had advice for everybody - though she staunchly refused to meddle directly in anybody's affairs - and she could usually be counted on to provide sound direction in matters diverse as money to romance. She was exceedingly fond of the latter, for her household consisted of six daughters and one son, and she fancied herself to be well-acquainted with the heart and its subtleties through raising her prodigious stock of children.
Of course, no household gets on without its dramas and difficulties, and Lofton Hall was no exception. The Misses Ostenby must be kept from squabbling, especially the younger three, and their Mamma saw that the girls' education was carefully attended to: singing, drawing, foreign languages, and, most importantly, dancing. "A girl who can dance is at home in any scenery, whether it be the town or the country," Mrs. Ostenby often remarked to the ladies of the neighborhood, "and a good dancer will never lack a partner. The exercise is quite useful in catching the eyes of a gentleman, and the better her form, the more appealing she becomes. And she is no worse off if her suitors perceive competition in her continually being engaged, for men love to fight for a woman's affections."
Lately, however, Mrs. Ostenby felt her position in neighborhood society slipping: her daughters, though the eldest were well at an age to be, remained unmarried, much to the old widow's chagrin. Some of her sayings were losing their luster, for they yielded no happy results even within her own family.
One fine June morning, Mrs. Ostenby lounged in the sitting room with three of her daughters, as the two youngest were engaged by their governess and Anne, the second eldest daughter, was out on her daily ride with her brother. On the whole, Mrs. Ostenby was not a fan of Anne's equestrian pursuits - at least, not of their public nature - for she felt it bordered on impropriety. However, her son would indulge his older sister, escorting her as they galloped all over the countryside, traversing fields and forest paths no matter what the weather. And to boot, he would not even agree to coax Anne onto a suitable mount for a lady; instead, his sister insisted upon riding one of the hot-blooded thoroughbred mares of the estate.
It was no wonder, in short, that Anne had not gotten herself a husband, nor even any real suitors. Though Mrs. Ostenby was continually trying, sometimes persuading and sometimes punishing, Anne refused to do anything that might secure the good opinion of their neighbors. She was convinced that Anne had no more a thought of marriage in her head than did her twelve-year-old sister Eleanora.
Anne had a mind even her Mamma was forced to admire, and a quick wit, but she used them rather too sharply in a way apt to be disquieting rather than captivating. She was opinionated, and as a young lady in a country neighborhood, this was not a good thing to be; not, at least, until after one had secured a husband. Mrs. Ostenby was keenly aware of her own temperament, and had upon occasion heard to herself referred to as a 'woman of strong opinion,' but this was spoken in tones used to describe a virtue rather than a vice - unlike when the word was applied to Anne.
Mrs. Ostenby sighed heavily. Across the room, her eldest daughter echoed that sigh, her face drawn and eyes dulled with sadness as she perused the latest letter from her fiance, a navy lieutenant. "What news, my love?" Mrs. Ostenby called, "How long until you are no longer to be Miss Charlotte Ostenby?"
Charlotte looked up with a thin smile. "I'm afraid, Mamma, that it might be as long as another year. He expresses his great love for myself and our family, and praises our forbearance. When he returns, he will certainly be a man of some wealth and influence. To sacrifice a little time for a more comfortable life must be a prudent decision?"
Mrs. Ostenby huffed as the rose from the divan to occupy the seat next to Charlotte, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I gave you both my blessing, and I do not doubt his affection for you - but my dear, I will not think you love him any less for expressing a little disappointment." She thought she saw tears threaten at the bottom of Charlotte's lids, but they were stayed by the humble reserve of strength that characterized her eldest.
Charlotte merely folded the letter and retrieved a box from the end table. As she tucked the letter inside, nestling it among all the other notes, her smile became more genuine. "His letters make his promises tangible," she explained, "and he wrote also that he may get leave to see me, as his ship docks in Liverpool at the end of summer. I am not parted from him forever, you see, and it does me good to think of it."
"I think a long engagement is romantic!" Lucy Ostenby could no longer keep from interjecting. Despite this being her debut year into the full society of the neighborhood, she had grand designs when it came to finding a partner. Having so recently completed the majority of her education, the fresh influence of poetry, books, and even the occasional novel gave her very distinct romantic notions of love and courtship. Lucy was in love with love, and primed to fall. This made Mrs. Ostenby exceedingly nervous.
Charlotte shook her head. "Though I love him very dearly, Lu, I don't think it romantic in the least."
"If you aren't sick of hearing opinions on the subject," Georgiana Ostenby scarcely looked up from her sewing, "I believe that even if your love wanes over this time of separation, you may still have a happy marriage and do your duty to one another as husband and wife. It is a stable kind of happiness that will serve you both well, and in due course, you shall get to know each other again. It's only natural that love will follow once more."
"Your reasoning is sound - but you talk as though you think there is no passion between my fiance and me." Closing the box, Charlotte shook her head at her sister. "Do you really believe that, Georgie?"
This caused Georgiana to look up at last, her look apologetic and wistful. "I stand by the truth in what I said, but I did not mean to accuse you of a lack of passion. I know you too well: this temperate mask conceals your deepest feelings. The calmer you appear, the more churns below the surface." Setting aside the sewing for a moment, Georgiana grasped Charlotte's hand, giving both a smile and a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry. I was thinking of myself. I have missed one proposal already, and this is my consolation now: a stable home and a kind husband will make me happy, and for that happiness I shall love him."
Mrs. Ostenby nodded approvingly. "You have always had a disposition inclined towards happiness. We will see you settled yet. I do believe this to be the year you find a husband - whether you first love him or esteem him notwithstanding."
"You'd better see to Anne before making plans for me," Georgiana smiled wryly. "I will give you no trouble. She, on the other hand..."
"Your sister will do her duty to this family." Mrs. Ostenby rejoined with finality. With that, the talk of marriage was closed, and Mrs. Ostenby remained pensive and withdrawn for the next half an hour.
-----
The sister in question was currently less than a mile away, surveying the land as it sloped away from the family estate, her eyes tracing its path from wood to field. Anne always found herself confronting the urge to go further on their morning rides, to gallop into the countryside and be gone, perhaps even for the whole day if she wished. Of course, this could never happen - not without a degree of scolding from her mother that Anne was loathe to invite. It was bad enough already when she wasn't trying to purposefully antagonize Mamma.
As she looked out, two figures caught her eye. "Edward," she called back to her brother, "I see riders in the lane, two gentlemen coming from the direction of Chesterfield manor."
"Do you suppose Lord Ashenby has come?" he asked excitedly.
Edward Ostenby, the only son of his family, was a tall young man with an open countenance and amiable nature. His mother was zealous in her oversight of her son's education, encouraging his natural character. She was determined that he should know all of sporting, riding and shooting, for she did not want him to remain ignorant of gentlemanly pursuits and responsibilities due to his lack of a father. However, she also insisted that he retain his gentleness of spirit, and it was through her guidance that he avoided many of the vices that swayed other young men. He was very fond of all of his sisters, although closest to Anne in both affection and age, with scarcely one year separating them.
"If they are Chesterfield's new lord and his guest, then it's likely they're heading this way to visit us - and you had better be at home to receive them." Anne gathered her reins, turning her mare back in the direction of the hall, patting the horse's neck to steady her. "Easy, Minerva," she crooned. She then grinned at her brother. "I'll race you back."
"That's scarcely fair," he complained, "I haven't won a race against you since we were children."
"I'll give you a head start. Count of ten."
Anne had once or twice heard herself referred to as the best rider in the county. Although she tried to help it, the praise did bolster a perhaps unhealthy sense of pride. Her competitive nature often landed her in trouble, and certainly seemed enough to garner the disapproval of both her mother and their neighbors. It appeared the trade-off for the acknowledgement of her abilities came at the additional expense of such terms as unladylike, reckless, unbecoming, and ridiculous.
Taking advantage of Anne's sudden pensive turn, Edward spun his horse in one swift movement and galloped back along the path.
"That's the spirit!" Anne urged her mare into a faster gait as they chased after her brother and his mount.
-----
The two gentlemen riding down the road were indeed coming from Chesterfield. Lord James Ashenby, a young earl who so lately had found himself in possession of the estate after his father's death, wished to establish himself among the gentlefolk of the country, and he was anxious to renew his acquaintance with the noted matriarch of the neighborhood. Due to having a disposition both easily amused and easily bored, he invited along with him a group of fashionable young people from his London circle. Their band would be young, gay, and undeniably wealthy - and as such, Lord Ashenby's appearance was sure to be welcomed at Lofton Hall. In times past, his family maintained a casual connection with the Ostenbys which he thought sufficient enough for a daytime visit; or, if it were an offense, it would easily be smoothed over. Lord Ashenby was a charming man with a natural lightness and grace to his conversation, and he seemed certain to make friends wherever he went.
Lord Ashenby's companion was one Oliver Denton, a rather awkward and stilted gentleman with a young, feminine face and green manners. The youth had seen very little of the world, for they came from a peculiar yet endearing set of circumstances. It was said that their father had been a gentleman who fell in love with a poor widow, and upon his marriage to the lady, his family cast him off. For a number of years, the gentleman and his bride lived in obscurity. She did not live long after bearing him their only child, and so for fifteen years father and son were alone against the world, until the father became fatally ill.
On his deathbed, the gentleman wrote to a cousin with whom he had been close in his youth, one notable Sir Graham Eccleston. Sir Eccleston was so moved by his cousin's story that he came to get the lad himself, though sadly the child's father died before his arrival. Thus it was that Mr. Denton came to be the ward of Sir Eccleston, who discharged them to the country to continue their education. After five years of intense study in which Denton learned manners and mores, supplementary to a broad education on diverse topics, they were deemed fit to enter London society under Sir Eccleston's careful, fatherly guidance.
Sir Eccleston had also carried on a warm acquaintance with the late Lord Ashenby, although the distance of their respective country homes prevented the two men forming a closer friendship. On the father's passing, however, Sir Eccleston continued to call on the son, and so it was that when Denton arrived in London, Lord James Ashenby became their first true friend. Through Lord Ashenby's invitations, Denton was introduced into far younger, more influential company than Sir Eccleston could provide, and it was with no small sense of pride that Ecclston watched his young cousin find a foothold in society. He felt certain the youth would have good opportunities.
One of such opportunities came at the end of the Season, when Lord Ashenby invited Denton to be one of his party when he made his first stay as master of Chesterfield. After charging Lord Ashenby with his cousin's guardianship on this venture into country society, Sir Eccleston pleaded off the visit. He was happy to let the young people have their sport, and his ward was in the charge of a trusted friend. On the morning of Denton's departure, Eccleston shook their hand warmly. "I expect your letters often, Oliver," he said. "Remember all that I have taught you, and you are sure to be much liked wherever you go. Should you ever want for anything at all, you merely have to touch pen to paper and I shall send it to you."
At the very moment of riding up to Lofton Hall, Eccleston's parting words were echoing in Denton's mind. Nerves made their hands sweaty in their riding gloves. They removed them before they dismounted, dabbing at the beads forming across their forehead.
After leaving their mounts in the hands of the manor's capable grooms, Lord Ashenby and Denton approached the front doors. "Courage, man!" Ashenby whispered to Denton. "You look as though you might faint."
"I own that I still am not very easy in company, not the sort that is unknown to me," Denton stammered. It was true that they had good manners, but they lacked refinement, and to remedy this deficiency they spoke but little. In London, their reputation was saved by the grace of being a relation of Sir Eccleston, who was much admired. It was an advantage they were keenly aware they did not have in this part of the country.
Ashenby shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Be easy. Smile. You're handsome enough that you may say nothing and it will still be sufficient to please."
After stating their names and business to one of the footmen, Ashenby and Denton were left to wait in the grand hall, admiring the marble pillars and richly gilded molding. In an attempt to follow the well-meaning advice given by Lord Ashenby, Denton made an effort to relax their posture and appear less stiff and awkward. It wouldn't do to embarrass him.
A great clattering of approaching hooves sounded at the gates of the hall, interrupting Denton's train of thought. Lord Ashenby strode to the window and beckoned for Denton to approach. They shook their head but did as they were bade. "I wouldn't be spotted peering out this window for all the world, Ashenby," they muttered.
"Why, I do believe that is Ostenby! He was such a slip of a boy, although I must say he has grown up rather tall. I should like to get a good look at his face."
Denton watched curiously as the riders dismounted. One was indeed a tall man, talking and gesturing good-naturedly towards the grooms as he handed them the reins to his horse. "Mr. Ostenby seems likable," they noted, set slightly more at ease by this casual glimpse of their soon to be host.
"You two will get on very well, I think." Ashenby clapped Denton on the shoulder. "You have similar taste in reading and politics - and what else is friendship if not that?"
As Denton continued to look out the window, the second rider removed their hat. She - for to their surprise it was a woman - still clung to the reins of her horse as it danced warily around the grooms. Her face was red with exertion and the sun, but still Denton thought she was a very pretty young woman. There was a self-assured air about her as she calmly settled the nervous horse, leading it twice around in a circle with her hand on its neck, soothing it all the while. Horse and woman soon came to an understanding, its pace slowing to match hers. She led it out of view, towards what Denton could only assume were the stables.
"Who was that with him? His wife?" Denton asked Ashenby.
"I didn't catch a good look, but I would venture to say that she must be one of his sisters. I've heard no news of Ostenby marrying." Lord Ashenby stroked his chin. "No, that was Miss Anne, to be sure."
"She's a good rider," Denton remarked, striding suddenly away from the window, clasping their hands tightly behind their back.
"Quite a pretty woman, too," Lord Ashenby baited, following his companion back into the center of the hall.
Denton's face remained practicedly impassive. "Yes, I would call her beautiful, for personality rather than looks. If she were not so animated, I think she'd become 'a pretty girl' rather than 'a beauty' - but nine times out of ten, a woman's spirit holds more beauty than her features."
"Do you really think so? How peculiar an opinion!" Ashenby snorted in amusement. "Women are all pretty paper, pressed and folded into the shape of a flower. They are desperate to fit the ideal and yet never achieve its reality. Wouldn't even they own that their appeal is formed chiefly by their looks and figure, hair and clothing? And even if one can get good conversation out of them, he may have done just as well if not better by talking with a man. No, Denton, I'm afraid I must disagree with you."
Denton turned sharply back towards Lord Ashenby, but they were saved the trouble of making a rejoinder by the entrance of Mr. Ostenby.
"Ashenby!" Mr. Ostenby strode over and shook the man's hand warmly. "Or, Lord Ashenby, as I should say. My lord, please accept my condolences on the passing of your venerable father."
"Thank you." Ashenby swallowed. "He was a man who lived a full life, and I am grateful he provided for me well."
"And who have you brought with you?" Mr. Ostenby's expression was scarcely less warm as he turned to Denton. "How do you do, sir?"
Ashenby smiled. "Allow me to introduce to you Oliver Denton. He has been my most intimate friend this season, truly one of the best young men I've yet met."
"Denton..." Ostenby mulled over the name. "I don't believe I know your family."
"They're not from this part of the country, sir, nor claim any sort of notoriety," Denton hurried to answer. "I have been these past five years in the guardianship of my father's cousin, Sir Graham Eccleston."
Ostenby nodded. "Sir Eccleston is known to me - and, I think, to anybody who has ever spent time in town. If it suits you, when you write him next, please convey my greeting and wishes for his health. I'm delighted to discover his kin in this neighborhood."
Overwhelmed, Denton managed to make a quick bow. "Thank you sir," they stammered, "I shall."
In the brief lull in conversation, the front doors opened behind them and in walked the presumed Miss Anne Ostenby. She ignored the newcomers and marched straight up to her brother, mock anger betrayed by the mirth in her eyes. "I hope you know that doesn't count, Edward," she chided, "for I let you win."
"Anne, we have guests," Ostenby scolded in the same playful tone.
"Ah yes, how do you do?" Anne bobbed her head quickly in way of greeting, neither fully bow nor curtsey. Her tawny curls were now in disarray from the morning's exercise, but the effect was not unbecoming.
"You remember Lord Ashenby," Ostenby gestured as the lord bowed. Anne still did not curtsey, but let out a quick customary deferential "my lord." Her brother continued, "And here is someone yet unknown to us: Oliver Denton. Mr. Denton, this is my second-eldest sister, Miss Anne Ostenby."
"A fresh face at last!" Anne exclaimed, turning the full force of her gaze on the young gentleman. "And what is your take on the neighborhood?"
"I hardly know yet, Miss Anne, for I have only just arrived this morning." Denton found themself casually examining her eyes, wondering for a moment if they would fall into the category of green or hazel. At any rate, they were expressive, shaped wide and betraying a natural curiosity. They were framed by high cheekbones and bold, arched brows almost masculine in nature. It was her mouth that was truly girlish, curved and well-formed, and very pink.
Anne's delicately formed mouth housed a sharp tongue. "Well then, as you've taken the liberty of examining me: what do you think?" she demanded.
Denton colored brightly, taken aback both by Anne's boldness and how easily she had been able to read them.
"Anne!" Ostenby scolded, before turning back to the gentlemen with an apologetic look. "Pay her no mind. She likes to quip and astonish, but there's no malice in it."
Lord Ashenby clucked his tongue. "Miss Anne, age has not tempered your manners one bit. But I have missed your frankness! The ladies of the London salons will only speak so freely once one has left the room."
"And here you are only talking so openly of them once you have left the entire city," Anne laughed. "It's good to have you back in the neighborhood, Lord Ashenby." Here she turned somber. "Though I am sorry for the circumstance. Let me extend my sincere condolences."
"Thank you." Ashenby gave a short bow.
"And now," Ostenby interrupted, "I would like to introduce the rest of my family to you! Anne, we shall see you by and by. In the meantime, I must beg you not to frighten away our new acquaintance."
"I am not in any danger of being frightened, let me assure you both," Denton spoke at last. "Miss Anne." They gave the lady a bow before following Ostenby and the lord into the sitting room.
The women had all set aside their embroidery, save for the youngest, who was still reading a book of sonnets. Only Denton noticed the basket of discarded practical work and white tuckers hidden under the table, proving that the ladies had been taken by surprise. They pictured the women crowded around a window looking out onto the approach, the ensuing scramble to appear occupied with more feminine pursuits to receive their gentleman visitors. The image made them smile privately.
Mrs. Ostenby rose to greet her guests. Her frame, although not large, was robust, and scarcely any feature betrayed her age. Her hair was still black and glossy, her face largely full of wrinkles and its complexion as bright as ever. In her time, she had been regarded as a great beauty, and she was seen as something of a beauty still. "Welcome, one and all." She kissed her son on the cheek before turning to Lord Ashenby and Mr. Denton. "My lord, it's a pleasure to have you at Lofton Hall. I sent a servant to receive you, but I see Edward found you first. Please forgive the lack of hospitality."
Lord Ashenby shook his head. "Not at all, madam. It is I who should apologize, for I sprung a visit on you without notice."
Mrs. Ostenby smiled. "You are always welcome here, Lord Ashenby. It is a pleasure to carry on our acquaintance with your family."
Ashenby bowed. "Allow me to introduce my friend, Oliver Denton. Denton, this is Mrs. Grace Ostenby, and precisely the woman to know if one wants to succeed in this part of the country."
As Denton bowed, Mrs. Ostenby chuckled demurely. "Lord Ashenby flatters me. I have been blessed with a large family, and it is this combined attention that makes us so often approached."
"And because you, Mamma, insist upon throwing the most numerous dinners of any house in the neighborhood." Ostenby smiled playfully.
"Wicked child!" Mrs. Ostenby laughed, her shoulders tense. "To expose your poor dear mother so!"
"I assure you, I hold your family in high regard," Denton cut in, anxious to appease the widow, who they could tell was slightly pricked by her son's remark.
Once more Mrs. Ostenby's smile was easy. "Thank you, sir. Now you must meet my daughters. Charlotte is the eldest, and she has recently been engaged to Lieutenant Hardy, a navyman."
Miss Ostenby curtsied as the gentlemen bowed.
"My second eldest, Anne, is currently away," Mrs. Ostenby continued, "and Edward then comes after her in birth order. But here is my next daughter, Georgiana, and isn't she lovely?"
The gentlemen were saved the trouble of replying, as Mrs. Ostenby did not pause for breath. "And we have Lucy - Lucy, put down your book, girl! Lucy has just lately been fully in society, and in a fortnight's time we will have a party here in her honor, which I hope you will attend."
After acquiescence from Lord Ashenby, she finished, "My two youngest, Marie and Eleanora, are currently with their governess, but I shall ring for them to take tea with us, if you wish to meet them now."
Ashenby waved a hand affably. "Let their education be attended to, Mrs. Ostenby. You may give them a small holiday on our next visit, should you be inclined. I do not want to interrupt your household any more than is necessary."
Once more, the daughters rose and curtsied, and the gentlemen bowed low. Miss Ostenby, engaged to the naval lieutenant, Denton thought the prettiest of the bunch. Perhaps her beautiful features were a bit wan, but this they attributed to the lady's pining for her lover. Miss Georgiana was certainly next in beauty, the only true blonde in the family, with thick lashes that framed light piercing eyes. Although there seemed to be a little undefinable melancholy that clung to her features, this too served only to add to her charm. Miss Lucy, the youngest, seemed the very picture of imaginative girlhood, and Denton privately hoped the world wouldn't disappoint her expectations, as she seemed very much a child still.
Miss Anne then entered the room, riding habit replaced with plain daywear, hair parted and drawn back with little care or eye for detail. Denton found this admirable, and like her the better for her refusal to bow to the whims of strangers - or, it seemed, the wishes of her mother, as Mrs. Ostenby was scarcely able to contain a quick grimace.
"This is Anne now, gentlemen," she stared at her daughter as she put emphasis on the last word.
Lucy eagerly rose to greet her sister. "How was your ride?"
Mrs. Ostenby cleared her throat. "We will hear the particulars another time. Follow me: we will take our tea in the drawing room. It's much better for company, and there is a little piano, which will always be an asset as long as dear Georgiana is around, for she is a prodigious talent."
As they prepared to leave the room, Edward Ostenby took a station by Lucy and whispered, "We raced. I won."
Lucy made no effort to hide her astonishment. "You won? Is Anne ill?"
"Do I have to take this sort of abuse from another sister?" he cried in mock offense, a laugh caught in his question. "No, it was fair. She gave me a head start."
-----
Tea was brought out quickly after the party entered the drawing room. Conversation flowed with an easy grace, and it was hard to say whether Lord Ashenby or Mrs. Ostenby was a worse flatterer. Several times, Mr. Denton hid a smile behind their hand.
"How are you settling in, my lord?" Charlotte asked, setting aside her cup and saucer.
"I find it surprisingly pleasant, Miss Ostenby. My father kept his affairs well in order. All that the housekeeper had to do was remove a few sheets and air the old place out. I've invited some friends to join me, you see. Denton and I came on ahead."
"I will ask, because it must be asked: how many ladies and how many gentlemen?" Anne smiled playfully. "There. I have saved my sisters the trouble of making little polite maneuvers to find it out."
There was no time for a beat of silence, as Mrs. Ostenby seemed well-prepared for a quip from Anne. "Georgiana, dearest," she interjected, "will you give me the pleasure of hearing the piece you practiced this morning? I have some of its notes in my head and I cannot seem to shake them out."
As Georgiana took and took to the bench, Ashenby counted on his fingers. "Five gentlemen and three ladies total, and two of the ladies are my own dear cousins. See, Miss Anne, I minded my ratios. I know there are more ladies than gentlemen around these parts."
The strains of a melody floated through the room, Miss Georgiana quiet but deft.
Denton knew the air, they knew it intimately. It was if their fingers held their own memory, and they fluttered in their lap, ready to dance. Instead, unsettled, Denton rose to stand closer to the piano, their face unreadable.
Anne was now intrigued. "Mr. Denton, do you like my sister's playing?"
Denton seemed to start. "I know this tune well. Your sister does it justice."
"Do you play?"
"I have been taught, although the talent has not been necessary in quite some time."
This piqued Georgiana's interest, and she continued to play as she spoke. "Then you must sing! We are in need of male vocals, as my brother is the most begrudging baritone."
Despite their best efforts, the color rose in Denton's cheeks. "I'm afraid I'm not much of a singer, not at all. Ashenby - that is, Lord Ashenby - would suit your purposes far better."
"I didn't know you played, Denton!" Ashenby exclaimed. "You prove more and more invaluable. For my vanity is musical but alas, not supported by any real instrumental talent, and I find that my voice is the only thing I have mastery of. Now I may invite you to play anytime I wish to sing."
"How delightful!" Anne clapped her hands. "I will demand a performance from both of you later."
"Anne has a refined ear," Mr. Ostenby agreed, "but is, by all accounts, a soft critic. You need not fear her in this."
Denton smiled gratefully. "It would be a true pleasure."
Lucy chose to enter the conversation in the natural lull that followed. "Lord Ashenby, we are having a party for me, as Mamma had mentioned, and I should greatly like you and Mr. Denton to join us. And any other members of your party, should they arrive in time."
"Miss Lucy, you shall have as many guests as you demand," Lord Ashenby nodded, "even if you are only using me to get to my gentlemen."
Lucy blushed, stammering, "I promise you, Lord Ashenby, that was not the motive behind my request!"
"Not the sole motive, no doubt," Lord Ashenby laughed gently at her embarrassment. "I am more than happy to attribute your question to a virtue as well as a vice. I only hope you will do me the same courtesy in conversation, for it will take me a bit to adapt my manners, as it were, from living in town back to country civilities."
"Lord Ashenby, you are incapable of offending." Mrs. Ostenby smiled, and a real warmth was paired with the politeness. It was clear she held the lord in true regard, the lasting effect of her affection for his late father. Lord John Ashenby had always sat high in her esteem as a gentleman of consequence, and his refined air impressed her. As neighbors they had built up a friendship that quietly grew over the years, and she still felt the loss acutely. She found comfort in the son's visit, and looked forward to his tenure at Chesterfield.
Anne turned her gaze from the lord to Denton, who still stood beside her sister, watching transfixed as she played. Her eyes brightened as she asked, "Mr. Denton, are you capable of offending? You've spoken hardly a word, which often means either wit or manners are lacking."
Ashenby clucked his tongue. "Dear Miss Anne, leave Mr. Denton alone. I can vouch for both his manners and his wit."
Denton looked Anne in the eye, a small smile playing at their lips. "My silence does not come from ignorance or insolence, Miss Anne. I can speak without offense, but I believe there is value in getting to know one's company. I find it's an exercise that involves far less talking than listening."
"A fine idea to be sure," Anne conceded, "but I prefer to get to know my company by drawing them out. Getting people to profess their own opinions is easier than making my own dubious analysis."
"Then I shall be agreeable and speak plainly for you," Denton said with a nod. There was an indomitable curiosity behind Anne's every action, her thinking bold and unusual. They couldn't help but admire her for it.
"Good!" Anne's smile softened, her gaze less analytical. "You and I will come to understand each other, by and by."
"Nothing would please me more." Denton gave a short bow.
With that, Georgiana switched tunes, and Mrs. Ostenby kept the rest of their topics of conversation well in hand, full of general pleasantries and praise of her daughters. When all was said and done, Lord Ashenby and Mr. Denton had spent upwards of half an hour at Lofton Hall before they returned home.
-----
Later, Denton and Ashenby took to the garden at Chesterfield.
"Well, a very pretty family," Ashenby declared. "But I know who your favorite was, Denton - and don't try to deny it, you're an open book."
Denton's eyes went wide, their expression betraying more fear than mirth. As they couldn't bring themself to look towards Ashenby, the latter carried on his quizzing unaware. "You took to Miss Georgiana," he said, "and what a fine choice!"
Denton stopped in their tracks. "Indeed? You think it's she who I should fancy?"
"What?" Ashenby put a hand to his chest in a pantomime of astonishment. "What's all this 'should' business? I say that you liked her. Could I, Lord James Ashenby, have been wrong?"
For the first time since the conversation began, Denton smiled. "It was not Miss Georgiana. I shall keep you guessing until the last, Ashenby."
"I won't give up easily."
"And who was your favorite?" Denton hastily replied. To their mind, Ashenby hadn't shown any particular attention to any of the daughters.
He was quiet a long moment. "The mother," he said at last. "She will want to spend most of her time getting her daughters married, and I have ample respectable connections that could forward that end. In return, she could keep my house's affairs in far better order than I could. Pawning one's responsibilities off on a wife is so much better than a solicitor. She may go wherever she likes, on my dime or her son's, and she and I will keep to our own spaces so much as to never have to see each other. As for me, I will spend my time in London being handsome, gay, and young for just as long as I am able."
"You're not serious!" Denton objected.
Ashenby laughed. "Of course not. But if I had no choice but to have one of them, the widow would be mine. I think she'd benefit from the arrangement the most."
Long after the joke was over, Denton found themself still thinking over Ashenby's response. What could it mean, such a curious statement as that? What was in his look as he uttered it?
He is a noble fellow
, they would write in their letter to Sir Eccleston,
if a very strange one.