Before the Season Ends (33 page)

“I am a man who has just discovered he is in love,” he said. “
With you.
Now come with me into my carriage and let us talk about it.”

Ariana still hesitated. “There are people,” she motioned toward the house, “who are watching. They will see if I get in your carriage. You said yourself I could not survive a second scandal!”

“There will be no scandal, unless you force me to pick you up and carry you! Now, be a good girl, and do as I say.” He motioned toward the open door.

She took a deep breath, thinking. “Oh, very well!” She moved forward and he handed her up, giving an uncustomary look toward heaven.

He mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

There were crowds at the windows of Mrs. Bentley’s house, and when the couple disappeared into the coach, somebody shouted the news. There followed a great deal of excitement as the
on-dit
went buzzing through the rooms.

“Is the carriage moving?” Someone had asked loudly, and the room quieted while the answer was awaited.

“Yes! The coach is moving. Leaving the street, now!” More whispering and exclaiming and shaking of heads accompanied this news and again made its way through the house. Mr. O’Brien’s head went back in stunned defeat. He stood, almost reeling with the disappointment. Lord Horatio heard and nodded to himself. He wasn’t nearly as surprised as Mr. O’Brien, though the news was disappointing. He began to look around at other ladies in the room with new eyes. He wanted a wife.

When Mrs. Bentley heard, her hand flew up to her heart, but Mr. Pellham patted her other hand.

“All will be well. They are to marry, after all.”

“Yes.” She nodded. Then, coming to herself she exclaimed, “Everyone must know! That will answer any question of impropriety!” She looked at her longtime friend. “Notify the orchestra to do a flourish. We must have everyone’s attention!”

He did not move, however, but stood looking at Mrs. Bentley with an expression she did not recognize.

“Why, Randolph! Whatever is the matter? Why are you standing there staring at me?”

“I will not make the announcement,” and he shook his head firmly. “Unless you consent to make another one. That you will marry me.”

“Oh, my dear man,” she crooned. “ ’Tis a sweet thought, but you cannot expect me to make that decision
now.
Not when I have so much happening already! Please, Randolph.”

He realized his timing was unfortunate for her, but he stood his ground. Once more he shook his gray-white head. “No, my dear Mrs. B., we have gone on like this for too long; I realized when I was indisposed that you are invaluable to me. In fact, I cannot live without you! Not any longer!”

Mrs. Bentley shook her head, tears appearing in her watery blue eyes.

“Oh, Randolph! But think of the disagreements we shall have whenever I wish to entertain my friends—you despise them!”

“No. I shan’t behave that way any more. Not when I realize how
terribly wrong I was about Mr. Mornay. If that man, with his reputation, can turn out to be like an angel sent to help me—only think how wrong I must be about others!”

He was still shaking his head, reproachfully. “I shall never again behave so disrespectfully to anyone of your acquaintance!”

Mrs. Bentley’s eyes grew large with wonder and joy. All she could do was breathe, “Oh, Randolph!” while staring at her beloved with large eyes. His expression mirrored her own. They nodded at each other and grasped hands for a few seconds. Then he went to the corner of musicians to make his announcements.

“I should not have agreed to this! May we just sit at the curb?”

Mr. Mornay had not bothered to sit across from Ariana, and they were facing each other on the cushion, her hands snugly enfolded in his.

“No, we best not,” he said. “They will come pouring out of the house, and I do not relish having the mob peeking in my window.” The coach continued moving, and left the street to circle the area.

He squeezed her hands.

“First of all, I apologize for my monstrous behaviour to you earlier.” He raised and kissed her hands, one at a time. “I can be an insufferable beast and I know it.”

“And for what you’ve done since?”

There was an immediate sparkle in his eye. “Do you mean the manner in which I dragged you from your home, from warmth, and safety and society?”

“That is precisely what I mean!”

“Well, perhaps it escapes your notice, but your aunt, I believe, did mention I intend to marry you. Does that help matters?”

She shook her head. “Directly after I convinced myself you should never care for me in that way!”

“No, my sweet; I convinced you. Forgive me!” He pulled her toward
him and Ariana gladly threw her arms around his neck. She rested her head against him and then their faces were touching. She loved the feel of her cheek against his face, but then he drew back his head and kissed her.

He broke apart from her when he felt the wetness of a tear against his skin.

“What is it? Have I offended you?” There was silence. “Ariana?”

“I—don’t—know—wh-what—to—do!”

He moved apart enough to see her.

“What do you mean?” His voice was caring and gentle, and Ariana again pressed her head against him. She couldn’t help then, but to put her arms once more about his neck. It felt wonderful to be able to—it was like a dream.

“Oh, Ariana!” he cried, softly, strengthening his embrace. He was surprised and once again moved apart enough to raise her face, though he could not see her eyes clearly in the dark. Passing street lamps gave some illumination, but not enough for him to read her emotions from her face and eyes.

“Is it that I forced you to come with me?”

“No.” He waited for her to continue. “I have been praying about you for as long as I have known you; for your salvation, you see. And I have always prayed that God would lead me to the right man; the one He has chosen for me. But I had—I have—no indication…that you could be him!”

“No indication?” He was surprised. “That I was falling in love with you? I thought I was the only one who failed to notice that.” He was silent a moment, thinking. “Surely you marked my attentions to you.”

“No, you misunderstand me. I mean that I have—no—indication that
God
has chosen you for me!”

“But you have every indication.”

She was giving him the death knell of their betrothal, and he sounded amazingly calm.

“How is that?”

“I am the one who has offered for you, and received your aunt’s approval; I have cared for you; I am able to take further care of you and solve your social quandary. You will not have to fret on account of your aunt misrepresenting you, or for not having a fortune. I am the one who saved you from the countess’s lies; and I saved your life when you might have drowned. In fact, now I think on it, I’ve saved you a good many times.”

He was speaking in a soothing, serious tone. He was taking her concerns to heart, and answering them as best he could, as best he knew how. When he had finished his list, including their encounter at his estate in the tree when he had not revealed her, he gently pulled her forward and gave her a kiss.

“And now it must be official,” he said in a droll tone, “that Mr. Mornay is God’s choice for Ariana Forsythe. I certainly believe it was God who brought you to me!”

“I wish I could believe that!”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

She hesitated, wondering how much it might upset him to hear the truth.

“There is a verse from Scripture regarding marriage. It says:
Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.
It is a direct command not to marry anyone outside the faith.”

“But I am the same faith as you. Church of England, born and raised.”

“That is a religion. You were born into a religion. Faith is a different matter.”

He sat back, exasperated. “I don’t understand your point, Ariana.”

She began again. “Faith causes a man to seek his Creator, to want communion with Him. To desire to please Him.” There was silence a moment.

“You think I am the veriest pagan, but I assure you that is not the case.”

Another silence.

“I know to you there is no dilemma, but it is very real for me.
I assure you. I must tell you, the outcome—our being wed—is more precarious than you think. In fact, the question of our betrothal—”

“Question? There is no question, Ariana. It is evident to me we must wed, and, as soon as the proper arrangements can be made. I have already charged your aunt with that business. Except for your wedding gown, which I intend to oversee—”

“Mr. Mornay! This cannot go forward until you have my parents’ blessing!”

“I have received permission from your aunt—your guardian at the moment. And I can assure you in any case there isn’t a single mama in London who would dream of withholding permission from her daughter to marry me.”

“My family is bound to be an exception,” Ariana countered. “I feel certain the outcome is more precarious than you assume.”

He was growing angry. They moved apart, though they were still seated beside one another.

“You said earlier, you had been praying about me since we met,” he recounted. “Why is that not enough? Or, pray on, if you like. Pray all you want! But some things have to be, and—” his tone changed. “May I remind you, you are sitting beside me, inside my closed carriage at night, alone? That not many minutes ago you were practically upon my lap? I hate to think you will find this disagreeable, but every rule of society dictates we must be betrothed or your reputation is shattered.”

“But I said I shouldn’t come!”

They both sat fuming silently for a minute.

“I do not mean to be difficult,” she continued. “I am merely trying to do what’s right. I hope you can understand that.”

His answer was immediate. “The right thing is to avoid the appearance of evil, is it not?”

She was surprised that he apparently did know some scripture.

“Yes.”

“Then you must accept the necessity of our marriage. If you defer
now, the whole of London society will be scandalized. There is nothing else for it.”

“I must think on this.” She was feeling confused, and hated to be disagreeable to him. “I am convinced that to marry you—though I am heartily sorry to say it—would be wrong. It dishonours my beliefs.”

“Is your family Methodist?”

“No. But my papa has given me a great deal of their teachings.”

“So this is why you favoured Mr. O’Brien?” His tone was bitter.

“I never favoured him over you in my heart. Only in my head.”

“Tell me again. The verse you mentioned.”

“
Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.
Second epistle to the Corinthians, chapter six, verse fourteen.” He had listened intently and now he leaned toward her with a sudden thought.

“I realize I am not the model of virtue you hoped for, but I am not an unbeliever. I do believe in God! Your objection is groundless.”

Ariana eyed him uncertainly. Even in the dark of the carriage, his exceptional eyes glowed out at her, deep, intent, and—and—earnest. But she had to give voice to her thought.

“The devil believes in God, too, and trembles, Scripture says.” She felt as if his eyes would bore holes into hers.

“Are you comparing me to
him?
”

“No!” She shifted in her seat. “I am showing you that general belief is not the same as faith. Faith is believing, yes, but ’tis more than that. Christ died on the cross for your soul! Until you understand the value of that—there can be no hope for us.”

There was a deep silence this time until she asked, “Have you put your soul in His hands, Phillip?” His name rolled off her tongue before she realized it, and she blushed.

He hesitated before answering. “I see that you make a great distinction, but nevertheless it says not to be bound to an unbeliever, and I stand upon my claim that I am not one.”

She looked at him despairingly.

“Ariana, it is useless; all of London will soon learn of our betrothal. Your aunt has informed her guests by now. The fact is we are bound
to one another. I do dare to entertain the hope, however, that you will soon find this agreeable.”