In the days following their introduction to the Ostenbys, Lord Ashenby and Mr. Denton were kept busy. The lord oversaw the preparations of the house, and instructed that three new bedrooms were to be readied for the next guests. Two of his cousins, Mary and Victoria Ashenby, were to be arriving the day following. They were the only children of the lord's late uncle, the Reverend Ashenby, and their cousin spoke highly of their innumerable beauties and captivating charm.

A friend from Ashenby's youth was set to escort the ladies and join in the summer merriment, a young man named William Harding.

While in town, Ashenby had introduced Denton to the older brother, a noxious man named Nathaniel Harding. Within five minutes of their introduction, Denton's opinion had been fixed against him. If he weren't rich, Mr. Harding would have been a gamester, and had he not been so discreet, a seducer. Disgusted by Mr. Harding's intolerable boasting of a most immoral kind, Denton tried to confess their deep discomfort about the brother of such a man escorting two young ladies.

Ashenby offered his personal assurance. "William Harding is too good of a creature - he is much like you, Denton, or yon Mr. Ostenby. He is kind by nature. The world has knocked him about a bit, but he has not let it dampen that sunny reserve of spirit that governs him. I could not name a man I trust more."

The time soon came for Denton to judge William Harding for themself, as the guests' carriage was just coming into view at the gate. Its driver had a gentle hand, the team in good order and barely gleaming with sweat despite the heat. Denton was a firm believer in the idea that one could judge a man by the state of his horses.

"Back straight," Ashenby pressed a guiding hand into Denton's back. "That's it, lad! You need not look so apprehensive."

Denton felt a pang of guilt. "Forgive me. I had not meant my posture to imply I dread the coming of your cousins or Mr. William Harding. It is only myself that I fear. But I must exert myself to become braver, or risk offending your guests."

Ashenby laughed. "I know you too well. It is the number you dread, not the individuals. But I am giving you my advice: you may trick your body more easily than you can deceive the mind. There is something in one's posture that influences one's mood, and what you need is an air of confidence."

Pausing a moment, Denton reflected on Ashenby's statement, pleased with its implication that no manners were lacking, but merely that quality of self-assurance.

"I would never presume to correct you as a schoolmaster or father," Ashenby hastened to add, "but as your friend, I consider myself obligated to help you improve your standing in the world, and within yourself." Here Ashenby shook his head. "Heaven knows the world is not half so kind as it ought to be. So we must adapt ourselves to the world accordingly, eh Denton?"

Their reply heartily in the affirmative was drowned out by the arrival of the carriage.

A fine young woman leaned her head out the open window, waving eagerly. Her hat and traveling dress were faded maroon, accented in turns by cream and navy. Her jetty curls bounced out of place, framing a round face with very dark eyes. "Cousin James!" she cried, pulling herself back inside the carriage just long enough to throw open the door.

Ashenby caught her hand just as she stepped down. "Dear Victoria, you grow lovelier each year."

Victoria kissed him on the cheek. "And the years are ever kind to you, my lord. I am glad of it, though I shall love you just the same, young or old."

While she spoke, William Harding made his way out the other door. As he rounded the carriage, Denton saw that he was indeed a more congenial person than his brother. Nathaniel had worn a perpetual scowl, save for those moments his mouth was upturned in a smirk. The younger brother smiled easily as he took Miss Ashenby's hand and helped her step down, creases of his face betraying this as its habitual expression.

Miss Mary Ashenby was built on a taller, more slender scale than her sister, but she carried the same easy grace and lines of good humor around the eyes. Her complexion, irises, and hair were all a shade fairer, making her resemblance to Lord Ashenby all the more striking. They could have been brother and sister.

As Miss Ashenby went to greet Lord Ashenby with her sister, Mr. Harding made his way over to greet the lord's guest. "James has written of you to me so often, I feel almost as if I know you! For you must be Mr. Denton." The man warmly shook Denton's hand when they nodded in the affirmative. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. William Harding."

"How do you do?" Denton smiled slightly, put more at ease by such a favorable introduction. "Was your journey pleasant?"

Harding immediately broke into raptures. "It is so lovely to travel this time of year, especially in the country! The land is so green and fresh, and no matter which direction the wind blows, it carries the faint scent of honeysuckle. Mary - Miss Ashenby - first noted it, and it was Miss Victoria who insisted we open the windows in the first place. I thought I should never want the journey to end. But now that we are here, I am happy for it!"

"Cousin," Miss Ashenby said pointedly, looking over at the two standing off, "you have not yet introduced your guest." Addressing Denton, she said, "Forgive us. My sister and myself grew up at the parsonage of this estate, and we were raised alongside James. He and William are almost like our brothers."

Harding turned faintly red around the ears. "I spent many happy hours roaming these grounds in this pleasant company," he agreed.

"Your brother joined us more often than not too, Wil." Ashenby remarked lightly.

Denton could not tell whether or not it was meant to chide or tease. They thought they saw Victoria's face fall ever so slightly, Mary's growing hard.

Victoria recovered, her teeth very straight and white as she smiled at Mr. Denton. "And now we have an interloper in our midst, but far be it from me to be resentful. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Denton bowed as she curtsied.

"Yes, yes," Ashenby chucked. "I have been neglectful. Denton, allow me to introduce my cousins to you. Cousin Mary, Miss Mary Ashenby. Cousin Victoria, Miss Victoria Ashenby. And this is my good friend William Harding. Wil, may I introduce to you Mr. Oliver Denton."

As one, they all bowed and curtsied to each other.

Ashenby rubbed his hands together. "Now," he exclaimed, "let us go in! I have specifically insisted that you allow a rousing introduction to the place, and I shall give it, but let me first have the luncheon I promised you upon arrival."

-----

Lord Ashenby took evident delight in showing his guests around the estate, sharing the improvements he hoped to make to the grounds. As the late lord had been quite elderly, he'd let the far parts of the garden become overgrown. Privately, Denton admired the bold attempt the wood had made to reclaim the garden, sewing brambles and wild violets in thickets scattered all around. They wished Ashenby might plan to leave the flowers alone at least. But no, he would clear space for a hedgerow and an avenue, his tastes inspired by the extreme curation of London parks. Beauty, for Ashenby, was coiffed and orderly. If it did not take time, it was not worth the effort.

As they traipsed around the ground, Denton made up the rear of the little party, which suited their observations. Victoria walked arm-in-arm with Ashenby, Mary falling into step beside William Harding as if it were second nature. They both often glanced back to Denton, including them in conversation.

"Mr. Denton," Mary called over her shoulder, "we are fortunate that the weather holds fair! It often turns in the afternoons, and I do hope it won't disappoint you. I confess that I love rainy days with nothing to do. William likes to read to us on such occasions. It is a treat to hear him give voice to Lord Tennyson's poetry."

Denton couldn't help but smile privately at the romantic image. In the space of an hour, they had grown to like William Harding and Mary Ashenby very much, and such a union promised happiness of the highest order. They wondered how settled the couple were, although it seemed as if all hinged upon Harding making his next move. Could there be anything behind his hesitation other than a little natural shyness?

Whatever the case, Denton resolved that they would give their quiet encouragement for something that must make two people so equinamitably happy. There was no obstacle they could see worth forgoing a love so pure.

On the other hand, they found Victoria to be more of a puzzle. It was clear she sought Ashenby's favor, though whether she desired him as a suitor, they could not tell. One moment they were sure of it, but the next the tie seemed to close, too familial.

Ashenby stopped. "And here we are at last! Ladies and gentleman, we have reached the end of the walk. Rest assured, I plan on extending it further, for these grounds were made to galavant - and at present we are pitifully equipped for galavanting."

Victoria smiled and released his arm. "I have fond memories of coming this way when we were children. Promise you won't change it too much, James?"

Tutting, Ashenby attempted not to return her smile. "What sort of man would I be if I allowed myself to be ruled by my little cousin? No, I will entirely disregard what you have said and come to the exact same conclusion all on my own."

Denton laughed softly.

Ashenby could not hide his grin at this newfound ease in his little friend. He meant to draw Denton out yet. There were warmer expressions and feelings in the youth than the young man comfortable revealing, and Ashenby wanted to be the first to see them, to hear them!

This made present circumstances all the more unfortunate.

"Well," Ashenby sighed. "I have also received word from Nathan, who will be joining our little party sooner than anticipated. We may share these small pleasures with him soon enough, though I will freely confess that I had intended for all of you to draw out Denton and set him at ease beforehand." Ashenby shared a pointed look with William Harding. "Your brother does not, unfortunately, share that same tallent." He chuckled. "Denton, you must brace yourself."

The rest of the party looked aghast. Mary gave Harding a particular look, and he seemed on the cusp of interjecting.

Victoria said firmly, "All sounds settled that way, then. I had hoped," she smiled back falteringly at Denton, "that we could all become better acquainted without the addition of one so," struggling to find the right word, she settled on, "boisterous." She carried on stronger. "It is a pity to have an innocent country retreat shattered by a man who will no doubt bring London with him wherever he goes."

"Indeed," Ashenby interjected, "I think you'll find he is in need of some respite from the city. We may do him good as a diversion."

"Do him good?" Victoria pressed her lips together.

Again, William Harding made ready to say something, only for the eldest sister to press his arm lightly before stepping away. She turned somberly to Lord Ashenby and proclaimed, "James, let us return. I have seen your grand plans for the estate and am appropriately awed. But I confess I have a headache and this unpolluted summer sun, which I have missed so much, pains my eyes."

Ashenby's entire demeanor changed. He offered Mary his arm and spoke softly. "Of course, cousin. We will turn around at once."

-----

With Miss Ashenby's sudden headache and the revelation of Nathaniel Harding's imminent arrival, the mood of the day was dampened somewhat. Victoria stayed upstairs to nurse her sister, and the gentlemen were left to find their own amusement. William Harding picked up a book to occupy his time, although Denton noticed that he never turned a single page, his expressions sometimes stony, at other times passionate or pained. He was resolute in his silence.

"Denton," Ashenby interrupted the turn of the youth's thoughts, "would you play us something? Pick up our spirits. It is a summer afternoon, and yet you and Wil appear downright gloomy."

"It has been a while since I played." Denton nonetheless approached the piano.

"I promise I shall not critique too harshly. You said you knew the air that Georgiana Ostenby played the other day - it was lively, like a little brook." Ashenby's praise was his insistence.

Without more ado, Denton sat down and began the air. Their fingers were deft, slipping only on a single key, and this on account of the shaking of their hands. The act of playing seemed to revive Denton, their face slipping into a soft mask of reverie more pleasant than painful, something soothing though not often recalled. Although no prodigy, they surpassed passable, and while they played, Harding put down his book and even lost his faraway thoughts.

At last, Denton finished, sitting back and regaining their usual controlled expression. Ashenby and Harding clapped profusely.

"Bravo! A shame Mary and Victoria weren't around to hear you," Harding sighed. After a slight pause, he asked, "Have you met my brother, Mr. Denton?"

"I have," they replied cautiously, careful to betray no emotion.

He nodded, saying nothing more. His pensive look regained, Harding stared into the book without reading for the next hour, and neither Ashenby nor Denton could draw him out again.

-----

Meanwhile at the Ostenby residence, Anne's mare had pulled a shoe and was temporarily lame, forcing the young woman to remain indoors. Mrs. Ostenby took full advantage of this situation by hounding her daughter morning and evening about the suitability of such childish behaviors that she so stubbornly was wont to give up as a young woman of good breeding.

For the sake of some peace and quiet, Anne at last found herself forced to retreat into the old nursery, now a schoolroom for her youngest sisters. This was an arrangement that suited all parties involved, as the governess had taken ill and was much relieved by the temporary reprieve.

As for Anne, she found the company of children preferable to that of adults. Particularly when those adults were occupied in discussing the handsome Lord Ashenby and the substance of his very rich heart and how it might be won.

She had been much more interested in Mr. Denton, for there was something undefinably pleasing in the way youth had so marked his features. His countenance was open and gentle - and yet, he had not been frightened away by her manner. That was intriguing, too.

"Anne," Eleanora tugged at her sister's sleeve, "I asked if I had spelled this rightly? Miss Smith will scold me if I stitch it wrong."

"Forgive me, Nellie." Anne shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. "It's an 'i' instead of a 'y', but you have it right otherwise."

Put off by the talk of more stitching, Marie declared, "We should go for a walk."

As the older of the pair, Marie was very much used to being in charge of the schoolroom, and at age fourteen she fancied she scarcely needed the oversight of Miss Smith the governess. Marie had very fixed ideas about what was necessary for her education. She was not interested in history, French, or drawing. She wanted to act, she wanted to write her stories, and secretly, more than anything, she wanted to be declared an even better rider than Anne. (This did involve taking the occasional horseback lesson from said sister.)

Anne found the suggestion of going outside agreeable, as she did not have a very studious disposition herself. She had her interests and was fond of reading, but the outdoors called to her no matter the time of year, and the start of summer was the season when the weather was at its sweetest.

Anne stood and stretched. "Yes, let's. We must attend to your exercise as well as your education."

With that, the little trio was off to the garden.

-----

The day was perfect, mild with the smallest breath of wind. Anne smiled as Marie and Nellie dashed ahead of her, playing tag-games and throwing small branches of twigs at one another.

Anne had intended to lead the girls into the wood and towards her favorite little brook, but she paused when she saw Charlotte sitting alone in the garden with a new letter clutched in her hand. Her back was to Anne, but there was misery in her slumped form.

"Go on ahead, girls," Anne told her younger sisters, "I will follow in a minute."

As the games continued on into the woods, Anne made her way back to the garden and Charlotte. Without bothering with the gate, Anne cleared her throat as she hopped over a low spot in the hedge that separated them.

Charlotte turned around in surprise, wiping furiously at her face, but it was no use. Tears had traced themselves down her cheeks, their lines still clearly visible. She attempted a smile, gratefully accepting the handkerchief Anne offered.

Anne gently took a spot next to her on the stone bench, waiting for her to catch her breath and speak. She said nothing.

"You must wonder at me reading this in the garden," Charlotte said at last, the hand that held the letter trembling slightly.

Anne shook her head, laying a hand on her sister's shoulder. "It's Mamma again, isn't it? She weeps while you must fortify yourself against both your own feelings and her theatrics."

Charlotte gave an imperceptibly small nod. "Dear Charles has written again. He will have a full two weeks' leave when his ship docks, and leave to visit me at home. Apparently his captain is a sympathetic fellow with a soft heart, and went through a long engagement himself in his youth. He's now been married ten years, Charles says." She blew gently into the handkerchief. "I know he writes it to give me hope, to reassure me that there is a precedent for our future happiness. Knowing it should comfort me."

"Is it that you dread seeing him again?" Anne inquired, wondering how good news could bring a flood of bitter tears.

Charlotte was silent a moment. "When I imagine our reunion, my heart beats so quickly that I think it might force its way out of my chest and fall into his outstretched hands. There is this feeling in the core of me that all will turn out well." She began folding and unfolding the letter as she spoke. "Still, I fear the length of time. I dread that one day this feeling will fade, and all the strongest and best parts of our attachment will be spent pining after one another at a distance."

Anne wished she had anything to say on the matter of love, or any consolation to give. "If only I were Georgiana, or even Lucy!" she exclaimed. "Then I might have something worthwhile to offer. As is, I'm afraid I must sit here with you, mute in my sympathies."

"Georgie speaks very practically on the subject of home and happiness, but I confess I view things in a different light. Love is what sustains me. It is what will nourish me as I grow old, bolster me as I begin a family. I need it to last, Anne, or I truly think I will wither away." Her speech done, she stared blankly into her lap, playing with the wax of the seal.

What was there to say or promise? Anne threw her arms around Charlotte, staying for a few moments and Charlotte let out halting breaths. They parted, and Anne saw that tears sparkled in her sister's eyes once more. She longed to give her comfort. "You said that you feel all will be right. I cannot help but think that feeling will magnify when you see him again. He writes to you so loyally and so often - it must be driven by a love as strong as yours. There is no other sound conclusion."

"Thank you," Charlotte murmured. "You have made me feel much better about the state of things. I'm sorry for confiding in you in such a way. I hope I didn't scare you, or cause any alarm."

Anne scoffed. "I am not frightened away by a little emotion."

Charlotte laughed, her features relaxing for the first time in many months, and she looked truly, truly happy. "Did I see you had Marie and Eleanora with you? I fear I've been neglecting them." She confessed. "Might I come along on your adventures today?"

"Nothing would be more delightful!" Anne replied with feeling.

Unfortunately, it was immediately apparent that such a thing was not to be, as Mrs. Ostenby dashed into the garden, a note in one hand and the skirts of her dress lifted in the other. She charged at the sisters in determination, brows knit but her mouth set upwards in a smile.

"It's been managed at last!" she cried.

Charlotte and Anne exchanged a glance.

"What have you managed, Mamma?" Charlotte asked gently, tucking her letter away.

"Lord Ashenby has agreed to dine with us tonight! And, he is bringing Mr. Denton, on whom I have decided to pin my hopes for Georgiana. There is a rumor about that he may come into some property one day."

"They are coming so soon?" Anne asked, a strange apprehension flooding her limbs.

"And more besides." Mrs. Ostenby answered. "Lord Ashenby comes with another gentleman, Mr. Harding, and two of his cousins, Mary and Victoria Ashenby."

"Another gentleman, Mamma?" Charlotte asked.

Mrs. Ostenby turned her gaze to Anne. "I was thinking that you might pair up with this Mr. Harding, if only you would mind your manners, and refrain from speaking of riding. Or the outdoors." She pondered a moment. "Perhaps best not to do much talking at all and leave it to the gentleman."

"What an exciting prospect." Anne replied drolly. "Don't you think, Mamma, that both Mr. Denton and Mr. Harding have minds enough of their own to decide whether or not they're inclined to be in love with any of us?"

Mrs. Ostenby tutted. "Fine. You may do with Mr. Harding as you please. As for your sister, after observing Mr. Denton's attention to her playing, I believe he may already be inclined."

"That is true enough," Charlotte mused. "He did seem to pay particular attention to her. And she has grown up to be so pretty, I would not be surprised at anybody falling in love with her."

Anne threw up her hands. "I shall be just as much a victim of your wiles as the gentlemen, I'm sure! Am I not to make up my own mind or have any say in who I would like to keep in my company?" She rose from the bench and marched off in the direction of the woods. As she left, she called over her shoulder, "If you need me, I will be in the company of children, who have no use to scheme of love and matrimony. We shall be poking river snails with sticks."

Once in the safety of the woods, Anne muttered to no one in particular, "It was silly of me to imagine he looked at me with admiration."