Free Before the Season Ends by Linore Rose Burkard

may be why Mrs. Royleforst has manoeuvred him into such a gathering. He is notorious for small parties of only his most intimate friends. What else could be afoot?”
    Ariana’s aunt looked at her as if she could supply an answer to the question, but Ariana looked blankly back at her. Such outright curiosity—nay, gossip—astonished her. And her aunt had not done: “I loathe long rides in the carriage.” She shook her head. “One could overturn or encounter highwaymen! Such dangers are abroad these days!” She paused, settling herself more comfortably upon the cushions and added, “Of course it will be worth it to see Aspindon, but why could not Mrs. Royleforst have chosen Mr. Mornay’s London house? Or someone else’s? We have so many veritable palaces in town.”
    Ariana’s eyes widened, but again her aunt barely paused. “Every unattached female of the
ton
will likely be there—setting their caps at Mornay, no doubt! An utter waste of time! That man is positively impervious to the female sex. The Paragon in appearance and style, he has all the airs, indeed, but does he ever show the least interest in doing his duty to his family name? No! We are all beginning to think he is the most determined bachelor in creation.”
    Ariana looked confused. “But did you not say an engagement might be announced? This very day?”
    Aunt Bentley shrugged. “I was speculating. There must be some great cause for a
ton
party at Aspindon; and even Mr. Mornay must allow his need for an heir. But I didn’t mean to suggest it is
likely.
”
    Looking sharply at Ariana, she admonished, “Never engage him in conversation. He is far beyond your depth, and heartlessly cutting in his remarks to young ladies.”
    “I would never—!”
    “Oh—but I was talking about the ladies, and I wanted to say we must procure invitations.” She wagged a finger at Ariana and said emphatically, “Without invitations we are nothing!”
    Ariana nodded as if taking the point. She involuntarily cleared her throat, and resumed looking out the window of the coach. The crowded London streets were giving way to bits of landscape as they left the city proper, or “town,” as her aunt called it. Ariana leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. She was looking forward to seeing the estate in Middlesex, for she had passed through the region on her trip to London and admired its beauty greatly. Nevertheless, sleepiness was coming upon her. How nice if she could sleep during the drive.

Seven

    Aspindon, Middlesex
    A riana’s aunt chattered in her gossipy fashion for much of the ride to Aspindon, so that when they turned into a long, winding drive about two and a quarter hours after their departure from Hanover Square, the younger girl had not been able to doze in the least. The scene before them now, however, began to revive her spirits. The drive was neatly framed on both sides by graceful lines of evergreen trees, which eventually came to an opening where Ariana caught her first sight of Aspindon.
    Fully alert now, she beheld the large dwelling with awe. The house was breathtaking, both high and wide in the classical style and balanced beautifully on either side with four-storey pavilions made of cut, light-coloured stone. Three double-door entranceways were arched and overhung by balustrades, one in the centre and two at the pavilions. Far to one side, she saw the glass ceiling of a forcing-house behind a privet hedge, which also likely hid the servants’ quarters.
    Above the main entrance sat a huge Venetian window that reflected the sky gracefully as they drew nearer. Ariana felt a thrill of pleasure—she loved fine things—and could hardly take it all in: manicuredgrounds, liveried servants everywhere, other shiny black carriages ahead and behind. It all captured her interest.
    After a footman helped her descend the carriage steps, she and her aunt joined a throng of guests on a wide lawn at one side of the house. Ariana looked