Before the Season Ends (44 page)

W
hen two weeks had passed and Mr. Mornay did not return, Mrs. Bentley had the banns published—to her great satisfaction. She also put a notice in the papers.

Once again the parlour was busy with callers—also to Aunt Bentley’s great satisfaction. Between entertaining the cream of society, she was occupied with the delightful business of gathering Ariana’s trousseau. Mr. Mornay had sent instructions, so she had begun to make the rounds of the necessary shops, warehouses, and modistes with Ariana in tow. She bespoke everything from bonnets to stockings, which was even more fun than usual since Mornay was underwriting the expense. Not so for Ariana, however.

It took three shopping expeditions for her to decide upon a wedding dress. Not because she was suddenly concerned about fashion, but because her latent worries about her future were brought once again to the fore when they shopped. Here she was, spending Mr. Mornay’s money, accepting their marriage, when in her heart there was yet an unsettled feeling. Mrs. Bentley found Ariana’s indecision unfathomable.

“We are still to bespeak traveling dresses, riding habits, morning, afternoon, and evening gowns, lingerie,” she finally said. “If you cannot choose for yourself, I will do so for you.”

“But my wardrobe is barely worn,” Ariana countered. “It is all new and according to fashion. There is no need to bespeak anything.”

“Mr. Mornay is an outstanding member of society, and you are to be his wife. You must dress as his wife. You must appear in a manner fitting your station. And, it goes without saying that as the wife of the Paragon you also must be completely ‘the thing’ yourself.”

“If we are indeed outstanding members of society, then we should set the example for others in generosity; in remembering the poor; in all manner of helping the less fortunate.”

“Well, my dear, you are already known for stopping the carriage and handing out fruit and rolls to little vagabonds of the street, and I tell you, they will turn on you for it. ’Tisn’t safe! Send a donation to your Societies, if you like, but I pray you do not use my coach for your charity! I shall be accosted in it one day when they see it and think you are inside.”

Mrs. Bentley had gone so far as to forbid her coachman or Haines, when he drove, to make these little stops for Ariana. In response, she merely tossed the food from her window, which was perhaps worse, for a report had circulated of a stray apple hitting an earl (a pedestrian at the time) on the behind. Her aunt shuddered to think of it.

She knew Ariana was merely enduring the new round of shopping, but it nevertheless came as a surprise the morning when she was met at the breakfast table with an announcement.

“Aunt Bentley, I have determined that I shan’t go to one more warehouse or shop! The extravagance is grating on me. I should rather donate the money for these things to the London Orphan Society. I leave these shops of luxuries to see hungry children on the streets! I cannot bear it another day!”

“For shame, Ariana! When a thousand other gels would give their right foot to be in your shoes!”

Mr. Pellham was visiting, and he jocularly piped in.

“If they gave their right foot, my dear Mrs. B., they would only need one of her shoes.” Ariana grinned and he winked, while Mrs. Bentley behaved as though she hadn’t heard him.

Ariana remembered the pages of instructions her future husband had sent her aunt. He told her where to buy what, from whom, and
which fabrics were best for certain categories of clothing his wife would wear. Ariana did not mind a husband who cared more about her apparel than she did, but she was done with fittings for now. Enough was enough!

With every shilling spent, a terrible thought would assail her:
What if the wedding is not sanctioned by Papa? What if she had mistaken her own wishful thinking for the will of God?
What if? What if?…

Had it been presumption to believe that Mr. Mornay would come to his senses regarding his need for Christ? Was he too proud? What if, even now, he and Papa had had a prodigious falling out? She was eagerly awaiting a letter from Chesterton from either of the gentlemen, but none had arrived of late. Without words of reassurance, her mind entertained negative suppositions. The silence was rife with rejection to her mind, and the days became very dreary, indeed.

Her presence was requested at many an entertainment, but to avoid the incessant talk of her coming nuptials, Ariana chose to spend more time at home. She worked on her needlepoint, drew pictures in the courtyard behind the house, or stayed in when Mr. Pellham visited, which was daily.

Her aunt had postponed her own wedding until the Paragon’s would be accomplished, but the two discussed plans, which Ariana found wonderfully refreshing. Instead of focusing on her future, she delighted on hearing the couple speak of theirs. Despite Mrs. Bentley’s recent social success, she had decided upon a small wedding. Perhaps because she was involved in planning Ariana’s, all she wanted for herself was a few friends, a small supper afterward, and then she and Randolph would be off for the Lakes. They intended on settling in that region during the winters when most of her circle abandoned town anyway. During the season they would return to Hanover Square. Mr. Pellham was thus prepared to sell his house.

Ariana sighed with contentment during the times the three of them shared. It was lovely that they would be tying the knot! If only she could hear from Phillip and rejoice in her own affairs. It helped to write to him, so she spent much time at it. When she was writing she
felt amazingly restored; it seemed so simple to believe for the best. But at other times her fears and doubts would resurface, and at night, especially. She spent much time on her knees to combat them. Prayer would remind her of God’s part in giving her that intense urgency to see Phillip on that fateful evening. After that, she’d been certain he only needed a proper opportunity of learning the truth from an excellent instructor. And that, shut up with Papa in his study, he could read, question, consider, and be ultimately satisfied with the miraculous simplicity of being saved for heaven by faith in Christ. Through the ages, the wisest of thinkers had been so; but what if Phillip refused the hand of grace? What if her hopes were to be dashed?

When an invitation for an outdoor picnic with the Herleys arrived, Ariana jumped at the chance for the diversion. Lavinia’s family was not so fashionable that the brightest stars of society would be there, which meant Ariana could enjoy herself without being assailed at every turn for details about Phillip or the wedding.

The day was sunny and warm. Lavinia was in such high spirits that Ariana found it infectious. She was soon enjoying a lighthearted game of bowling on greens with her friend’s family. Afterward she sat resting on a blanket on the grass. She noticed a nearby grove of trees and thought with a laugh that she would not soon take to climbing a tree again! But if she had not, would she and Mr. Mornay ever have spoken? More likely he would have taken one look at her, sizing her up as another insipid female, and never given her a moment’s notice. It was amazing, when one thought on it, how the most unlikely events could turn out to be the most significant of one’s life.

She was enjoying a light breeze ruffling across the grass and her face when suddenly Mr. O’Brien, who had arrived late, stood before her, bowing politely. Without asking permission he took the liberty of sitting down to face Ariana.

“How good to see you, my dear Miss Forsythe!”

Ariana smiled. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. How are you?”

He gave her a grave look. “Not so well, I’m afraid. I heard the banns on Sunday and—I must confess, I felt a renewed conviction to persuade you not to go through with the nuptials. Is there any chance that you might yet gain your freedom?”

“Mr. O’Brien!”

“Miss Forsythe, you must give me your utter assurance that you wholly believe it is the Lord’s will for you to marry this man!” When she hesitated, he added, “I could not sleep at night if I thought for a moment you had any doubts and I failed to encourage you to speak of them.”

“You are very bold, sir.”

“My convictions make me so. I know too much of your pious nature to remain quiet.”

She met his eyes, and her doubts must have registered on her face. He sensed an opportunity, and leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice.

“You must be full of doubts, my dear; you must see the unsuitability of the match! It is plain, indeed.”

“I do fret at times,” she admitted. “But not on account of Mr. Mornay’s character or because of anything you would think. I only fret that I may have mistaken my feelings for the will of God. I love him so dearly, you see.”

“Our feelings can be our worst enemies!” his voice rose with conviction. “Of course you must doubt them!”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I do wish to know that I am following the right course!” She sobbed and he quickly thrust a handkerchief at her. “Do not try and persuade me, in this matter, Mr. O’Brien. I want only God’s will. And I know that He has allowed me to—to—fall in love with Mr. Mornay!” She was crying in earnest and Mr. O’Brien became utterly solicitous. He moved nearer, and assured her of his constant prayers. How he wished he could comfort her with more than just words! Instead, he spoke soothingly, counseling her on God’s faithfulness and sovereignty.

“If He has brought you to this place, then He has a purpose. He
will see you through. He will make a way where there seems to be no way, my dearest Miss Forsythe. Remember the promise, ‘All things work together for good, to them that love God.’ Do not forget the truth of that verse, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. It is a truth dear to my heart!”

“And mine.” Gently, he added, “I suggest you give yourself—and your betrothed—to God, just as I have had to give you to Him. We shall all of us have to accept what He brings to pass.”

“I have endeavoured to do just that,” she said, with a sniff. She blew her nose and composed herself. Mr. O’Brien sat in silent admiration, watching her.

“I have wished that your betrothal to Mr. Mornay would come to an end; that he, perhaps, would cry off if you do not. Only he’d be mad to, of course! And my wishes are selfish, and for my own happiness.” She was keeping her eyes averted, hoping he would cease such talk.

“But I tell you this, Miss Forsythe—I will earnestly pray for you. I will pray that God grants you the desire of your heart, and that Mr. Mornay, if he must be your husband, will be the best of husbands.”

This brought a smile. “Thank you, Mr. O’Brien. You are very kind. I know ’tis at a cost. I am obliged.”

“Allow me the honour of praying for you this very moment,” he said, and reached for her hand. They bowed their heads, sitting there on the blanket on the grass, and prayed. Mr. O’Brien spoke first, asking God to bless Ariana and to protect her from taking a wrong path. It was a sweet, earnest prayer and Ariana was touched. She prayed for the same things, but also for him, that his living would soon be granted, and thanked God for his friendship. Afterward, smiling, they rose, with him helping her up by the hand.

He stopped, though, still holding to her hand and gazed at her soberly.

“Only promise me, Miss Forsythe, that if you have a change of heart, or are convinced the Lord would have you free of Mr. Mornay—promise me—”

She hastily pulled her hand free. “Pray, don’t!”

“Please, I must! I only ask you for some little encouragement, in case—”

“I will not, I cannot give any, Mr. O’Brien!”

He looked sorrowful, but said, “Perhaps in future, then, my dearest girl!”

Without curtseying she turned and moved on, suddenly aware the other guests were no longer in their vicinity. He joined her, but their conversation remained on safe, general topics. Little did Ariana realize that her trials for the day were not yet over.

“A
riana Forsythe! Come, join the game!” Lavinia tugged at her arm playfully. “Come on then, we’re playing hide-and-seek, and I am laughing ’til it hurts! You are missing the fun.”