The Arrangement

Title: The Arrangement
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Written: 7-14 July 2023
Fandom(s): Pride & Prejudice / Bridgertons (TV)
Pairing(s): Eloise/Darcy, Daphne/Hastings
Word count: 9.5k
Rating: PG
Summary: Lady Catherine always said there was a notion between herself and Darcy’s mother that he should one day marry Ann De Bourg.  However, Darcy remembered it different.  He remembered that his mother had an arrangement with Lady Bridgerton that he should marry one of her daughters… and he found himself in need of a wife…

The Arrangement

The newly made Marquess of Ashmoure had a dilemma on his hands.  He sat in his London house in Hanover Square and watched his younger sister Georgiana Darcy play the pianoforte.  She was drawn and the usual rose in her cheeks was lacking ever since the braggard George Wickham had trifled with her at Ramsgate.  Darcy was set to go visit Hertfordshire with his friend Bingley, leaving his sister to her companion, but Georgiana required his attentions.  Furthermore, she required a sister to bolster her belief in herself.

Darcy must marry.

He thought of the women of his acquaintance.

Darcy, before his accession to title, had been of the first circles and his prospects had only bettered since his great-uncle’s death and his good fortune to be made a marquess.  His aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourg, desired that he marry his cousin and her daughter, Anne—but Anne was a sickly creature with no accomplishments and nothing but a small familial affection that held him to her, if even that.  He knew his other aunt, the Countess of Matlock, would certainly have recommendations for him.  The Mamas of society would gladly welcome him if he were to enter into society, but that would be tiresome.

No, there must be a better option.

When Georgiana finished playing three-quarters of an hour later, Darcy returned to his desk and his correspondence.  It was then that his eyes fell on a letter from the Dowager Viscountess of Bridgerton, a particular friend of his mother’s, the Lady Anne Darcy.

Lady Catherine De Bourg had always intimated that it was his mother’s dearest wish that he should marry Anne De Bourg, but as he remembered it, it was Lady Anne Darcy’s dearest wish that he should marry a Bridgerton.  She and the Dowager Viscountess had schemed such a plan when the eldest Miss Bridgerton had been in the cradle.  He did not now recall her name, but she would surely be of age.

The letter was one of both congratulations on his accession to the title of Marquess of Ashmoure and sorrow on his late great-uncle’s passing, as well as an offer of friendship.  He looked at the clock and saw it was too late to call, but there was always tomorrow.

The next day, Darcy dressed with especial care.  He kissed Georgiana on the head in farewell and told her he would be out for but an hour, and rode to Grosvenor Square.  The house was one covered in wisteria and quite whimsical, and he could almost recall it from his youth.

He was introduced to the drawing room, just as a young lady still with shortened hems and a blusher was announcing, “Life is more than balls and beaus, Daphne.  It is the accomplishment of the mind—oh, hello.”  She turned and looked at Darcy.  “I do beg pardon.”  She prettily curtseyed to him, book in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

Darcy took in the room and saw a lady he recognized as the Dowager Viscountess and a young lady in a blue gown who was undoubtedly out.  There were two children—a boy and a girl—playing with marbles on the floor.

He stepped forward and in an uncharacteristically gallant move, he took the chocolates from her hand and then picked it up with the other, “Forgive me, Madam, for interrupting your impassioned speech on a woman’s pleasure.”

She blinked once at him, clearly stunned, and then a small smile formed on her pretty face.  “You approve of the education of women, then, Lord—”  She looked over his shoulder at the footman who had announced him, and the man coughed into his hand and repeated, “Lord Ashmoure,” for her benefit.—“Lord Ashmoure,” she said, looking up at him with large blue eyes.

“I constantly seek the advancement of my younger sister’s mind, but alas she only prefers the pianoforte to the exclusion of all other education.”

She smiled at him.  “Then she is far more accomplished than I am, my lord,” she admitted, her hand still in his. 

“I am certain you have other accomplishments,” Darcy consoled her, and her blue eyes sparkled at him.  “But forgive me, Madam, I am here to see your mother.”

“Mama?” she asked, and then shook herself, dropping his hand and turning to Lady Bridgerton and the elder daughter. 

Darcy was sorry to let her go, hoping it was only a year or two until she would be out, and likewise turned to the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.  He bowed to her, “Viscountess, it’s been nigh on twenty years.  Thank you so much for your kind note.”

She ushered him forward and he took a seat beside her on the settee.  The girl who was out sat down across from them, perfectly folding her hands on lap.  No, she wouldn’t do.  She was too much of a society girl, and while Darcy upheld society, society women bored him. 

“I am so pleased to see you,” Lady Bridgerton told him, and seemed to genuinely mean it.  “May I introduce you to my daughter, Daphne?” The Viscountess indicated the society daughter.  “And you’ve already met Eloise.”  The girl he had been speaking with was standing by the pianoforte with her book open, and she looked up and smiled at him with her pretty blue eyes.

“Ladies,” he greeted before turning to the Viscountess.  “I wonder if I may speak to you privately?”

The Dowager Viscountess looked at him pensively and nodded.  She made a motion with her hand and Daphne immediately got up and went to the couches on the other side of the room.  As she passed Eloise, who was once again reading, she grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her along.  The two children, when their mother asked them to leave, got up and took cakes before leaving the room.

“Is that better to your taste?” Lady Bridgerton asked him as she took a cup and began to pour him tea.

He accepted the cup and poured a little milk in it and took a sip, careful on how to broach the subject.  “I remember you and my mother had a scheme between you.”

“A scheme, Lord Ashmoure?” Her eyes twinkled.  “Of the matrimonial sort?”

“Exactly, Lady Bridgerton.  I find that I am in need of a wife now that I am of elevated rank.  My sister requires the companionship of a sister.”  He looked at her directly.  “I would rather marry the daughter of my mother’s friend than enter society and find a woman among the young misses now that my rank is so—” he searched for the correct word “—desirable.”

“It would certainly take longer,” she agreed.  “I have always hoped that my children would make love matches as my husband and I were a love match,” she cautioned.

“Who would say,” he reasoned, thinking of Eloise, “that it would not be a love match?”

The Dowager Viscountess looked at him perceptively.  “Has your mind turned to one of my daughters specifically, Lord Ashmoure?”

“Miss Eloise,” he told her, not mincing his words, “although she is not yet out.”

She smiled to herself.  “You do look well together.”  Lady Bridgerton took another sip of tea and looked over at her two daughters.  “This is Daphne’s first season, but I had hoped to introduce Eloise next season.  It’s only July, true, but we could have some family dinners and, if everything comes to fruition, an engagement this Autumn.”

“I am sure Georgiana would be pleased to receive her.  Miss Eloise said she did not play pianoforte—”

“She sings,” Lady Bridgerton told him.  “Do not let her fool you.  She is quite accomplished.  Eloise just prefers to always be at her correspondence and reading.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ll have to tell Anthony,” the Dowager Viscountess warned.  “My eldest son.  The Viscount is, of course, concerned with his sisters’ prospects.”

“I take it he is a member at White’s.”

“Indeed.”

“Then I will write him a note and we shall speak there,” Darcy told her.  He put down his cup.  “A pleasure speaking with you, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Lord Ashmoure,” she agreed. 

He stood and went to the two Bridgerton sisters and said his farewells, making a point to make eye contact with Eloise before leaving. 

It was a job well done. 

Upon returning to Hanover Square, he wrote a note to the Viscount Bridgerton, asking to meet him at White’s that evening, and had it dispatched.  He then went to find Georgiana to ask her whether she could have tea with a young lady of distinction later that week.

II

“Yes, I’ve had a note from Ashmoure,” Anthony admitted to his mother not two hours later when calling hours were over.  “I don’t remember him from Cambridge, but I honestly don’t know his family name—”  He looked up at her, expectantly.

“Darcy,” she informed him, walking the length of his desk.  “His mother, the Lady Anne Darcy, and I were the best of friends.  We had this notion when Daphne was in the cradle that Ashmoure and she would make the perfect match.”

At this Anthony looked up greedily.  Daphne’s prospects were rather bleak despite her brilliant introduction at court.  He was going to have to do something and rather soon as she had no callers at all except Burbridge. 

“Is he of a similar mind?” Anthony asked, seeing a way out of his problem.  “Is he a respectable fellow?”

“Eminently respectable.  He was of a similar mind in general—”

“General?” Anthony asked, standing up and piercing his mother with a fierce look.

“He wants to marry a Bridgerton girl…”

“Well, what other Bridgerton girl is there?” he asked, utterly confused.

His mother fidgeted.  “He finds Eloise enchanting.”  She looked up from the object she was playing with on the desk, her gaze unrepentant. 

Anthony let out a long breath.  “Eloise?”

“She appears much captivated by Lord Ashmoure as well,” she told her son.  “I think it’s a brilliant match.”

“It doesn’t solve the problem of Daphne,” Anthony griped.

“No,” his mother agreed.  “It does not.  But we are not speaking of Daphne.  We are speaking of Lord Ashmoure and Eloise.—but this may solve the problem of Eloise.”

“We don’t have a problem with Eloise.”  Anthony was beginning to get a headache.

“We will have a problem when she has to go out into society.  She is not like Daphne.  She will not like pretty dresses and jewels.  She shall not want to dance with eligible men or be admired.  It shall make her uncomfortable.  Now, she has a suitor that can court her privately at family dinners and teas with his sister.  She could be married before she is even presented at court.  Think, she could be presented to her Majesty as the Marchioness of Ashmoure, all her cares only for her husband.”

Anthony looked thoughtful.  He nodded and then turned to behind his desk and took out Debrett’s.

“Lord Ashmoure only this week acceded to his title,” his mother informed him.

“Darcy then?” Anthony asked and his mother nodded.  He flipped through the pages and found the Darcy’s of Pemberley.  He read the entry and then closed the book with a clap.  “Well, he was more than thoroughly respectable before he became a Marquess.  His uncle is the Earl of Matlock.—I shall just have to ask around at White’s and meet him.”  Then, he thought.  “You should tell Eloise.”

“After he singles her out,” his mother reasoned.  “No need to let her stew on the subject.”

“Very well,” Anthony agreed.  “I have a note to write.”

His mother nodded and left the room.  Anthony was left thinking on how strange fortune was.  How a respectable Lord had entered their lives but not for Daphne—for Eloise, a girl who was not even out.  Shaking his head, he nonetheless wrote out the note and called for a servant to take it to Darcy House.

When he was at White’s he first saw Hastings and they clapped hands.  “I’m here to see a man about my sister,” he told his oldest friend.

“Miss Bridgerton has a suitor?” Hastings asked casually.

“No—Eloise,” he confessed.

When Hastings looked up in surprise, Anthony only shrugged.

“Isn’t she a little young?”

“Indeed,” he agreed. 

A tall gentleman entered with curly hair and bright green eyes.  The footman signaled Anthony and he realized this must be Lord Ashmoure.  He did look a little familiar, so Anthony must have seen him about White’s on previous evenings. 

“Must be going,” he apologized as he left Hastings for the tall gentleman.  “Ashmoure?” he inquired of the man who was standing at the door, his hands folded behind his back.

“Bridgerton,” he greeted with a slight bow of his head.  “Thank you for meeting me this evening.”

“I’m here most evenings,” Anthony admitted as the two of them gravitated toward an empty table.

Anthony poured them each a brandy, and Darcy accepted his.  They were silent for a long moment until Darcy began, “It was my mother’s dearest wish that I marry a Bridgerton, and I see no reason to disappoint her even though she has been dead these past sixteen years.”

“My mother mentioned something similar,” Anthony told him, “although I had been unaware of this plan until this morning.”

“I had half-forgotten the idea until I received Lady Bridgerton’s kind congratulations on my title,” Darcy told him, taking another sip of his brandy, “but it suits me quite nicely as I have a desire to marry.”

Anthony thought again how this would be efficacious if Darcy’s choice would only fall on Daphne.  “You have met Eloise?” he checked.

“She was giving an impassioned speech on the education of women when I entered your drawing room this morning,” he admitted.

Well, he knew Eloise and her pursuits then and he still wanted her.  Best of luck to him.  “Eloise is the most singular of sisters,” Anthony told him carefully.  “I have been fearing her debut since Daphne’s success.”

“Well,” Darcy admitted, “I understand her debut will fall to me as her husband and not to you as her brother, if everything goes to plan.”

That was certainly a relief.  Anthony raised his glass and Darcy similarly raised his. 

After another silence, Anthony admitted, “I have made inquiries of you.  The only blemish on your character is a former roommate of yours from Cambridge—”

“Wickham,” Darcy supplied.  “Yes, I own his debts in Derbyshire to ensure he never comes near Pemberley.”  His green eyes darkened.  “He was unfortunately my father’s godson.”

“Indeed,” Anthony murmured.  “And your worth, now that you are made a Marquess?”

“Over sixteen thousand pounds a year.  I do not have an exact calculation as I inherited only six days ago, but I understand it to be about that amount.  I imagine Miss Eloise’s dowry is respectable although I have no need of it.”

Uncomfortably, Anthony admitted, “I have four sisters.  They have sixty thousand pounds between them.  Eloise’s portion is fifteen thousand plus three thousand per annum from a small property in Hampshire she inherited from her godfather that is in her name.”

Darcy looked him over.  “That is more than adequate.”

“Yes, the added three thousand makes up for her lack of fortune otherwise,” Anthony agreed.

“It is not that,” Darcy told him.  “As I said, I do not need it.  I was merely curious as I will need to provide for any daughters we shall have.”  He finished his drink.  

Anthony looked at him and realized he was a strange, though thoroughly respectable man.  He wondered how Eloise would deal with his solemn demeanor, whether they would even suit. 

Darcy, however, was speaking again: “I would like to invite you, the Dowager Viscountess, and Miss Eloise to dinner tomorrow.  Does Eloise enjoy any particular food?”

“Lemons,” Anthony answered.  “Lemon sweets.  They’re her favorite.”

“I will tell my cook.”  And it was done.  Now Anthony had to deal with Daphne.

III

Eloise was not attending when her mother was speaking to her in the drawing room the next morning.  Burbridge had fortunately left and they were blessedly alone.  Even Daphne had left the drawing room.

“Did you hear me, Eloise?” Mama asked.

She looked up from her book.  “Beg pardon?” she asked.  “Were you speaking to me?”

“You have been invited to dinner tonight,” Mama told her, smiling.

Eloise blinked.  “I’m not out.”

“That does not matter.  I will make an exception.”

Eloise looked around the room and realized that Daphne was not present.  “Is Daphne not to go?”

“No, darling,” Mama told her carefully.  “Only you have been invited with myself and your brother Anthony in attendance.”

“Me?” she asked again in astonishment.  “But—I—”  She took a deep breath.  “Who has invited us?  Surely not Lady Featherington?”

Mama’s smile only got wider.  “No, not Lady Featherington.  It is Lord Ashmoure.  You remember him, do you not?  You shall meet his sister, Miss Darcy.”

Odd that she wasn’t Lady—Something.  Eloise had thought that Lord Ashmoure was an Earl or something, making his sister the daughter of an Earl, and therefore a “lady,” but that seemed to be incorrect.  Still, Eloise swallowed.  “Lord Ashmoure is perfectly amiable,” she agreed, “but why has he invited me?”

“Because, my love,” Mama told her carefully, “Lord Ashmoure finds you perfectly amiable.”

Eloise blinked up at her Mama.  She had thought she had had a moment with Lord Ashmoure but had swept it away as museful fancies.  He had come to speak to Mama, anyway.  Then, “I’m not out,” she reiterated.

Mama breathed out and came to sit beside her, taking her hands.  “It is certainly unusual, my dear, but when both parties agree that the arrangement is satisfactory, allowances can be made.  You will be out next year after all.  And I thought you found Lord Ashmoure most agreeable?”

Flabbergasted, Eloise admitted, “Lord Ashmoure is most agreeable—”

“There, you see,” Mama exclaimed.

“But my mind has not turned to matrimony,” Eloise finished hastily, looking with wide eyes at her Mama.

“Well,” Mama said, “that is for Lord Ashmoure to convince you.  It is for any young man to convince a lady that he is a suitable match for marriage.  And, really, my dear, now that the idea has been introduced to you, you may find you favor it more than you thought you might.”

Eloise considered marriage for a long moment and did not favor it, but she did not tell her Mama so.  She took a deep breath.  “I do not know his exact title,” she admitted.

“He is the Marquess of Ashmoure.  It is a place in Derbyshire where his estate, Pemberley, is.  He inherited the title just this week when his great-uncle died,” Mama explained.

Well, that was why his sister was “Miss Darcy.”  She was the daughter of a man with no title and only the sister of a titled man.  If Eloise married him, she would be “Lady Ashmoure.”  The thought made her swallow nervously. 

“I can dress in my usual clothes?” she asked her Mama.  “You won’t make me wear one of Daphne’s dresses?”

“No, my dear,” she promised, squeezing her hands.  “He knows you are as you are.  He appreciates you for who you are.”

Eloise only nodded and then got up.  “Doesn’t Daphne have a ball tonight?”

“Benedict is taking her, God bless him.”  Mama smiled at her.  “Perhaps she’ll dance tonight with Anthony not in attendance.”

She hummed and then left the drawing room.  Eloise immediately went to her room and immediately blockaded herself in.  Her thoughts turned to Lord Ashmoure.  He was so tall and handsome—and he wanted to marry her.  She was but seventeen years old!  Indeed, women had married younger, she admitted to herself.  But what of herself?  What of Eloise?

Eloise spent the entire afternoon in her bedroom and was forced to let a maid in to ready herself for dinner.  There was not much to change in her person except to curl her hair and freshen the bow in her hair. 

When she was going downstairs, she passed Daphne who was coming up with a book in her hand.  “Lord Ashmoure?” Daphne asked.  “I commend you, sister.  You’re not even out of leading strings.”

Making a face at her, Eloise moved down the stairs and determined to make the night a success, if only to prove her elder sister wrong. 

They took the carriage and Eloise was glad for the silence.  Anthony was regarding her as if she were a puzzle, and she supposed she was.  Daphne was supposed to catch men like Lord Ashmoure, not Eloise with her bookishness and her strange ways.

When they arrived, Anthony said, “Well, here goes nothing,” and got out first, handing out Mama and then Eloise.  They were shown into the drawing room where Lord Ashmoure awaited them, just as tall and just as handsome as ever, with a girl about her age with Ashmoure’s dark curls and green eyes.

“Miss Eloise,” Lord Ashmoure greeted her, taking her hand and kissing it despite the fact that she was only wearing day gloves.  Girls who were not yet out never went into company and therefore did not require evening gloves.  Her Mama had dithered about her gloves for a full five minutes before Anthony had pushed them both into the carriage, Eloise only wearing the day gloves at the time.

She smiled at Ashmoure sincerely, feeling instantly comfortable in his presence.  “Lord Ashmoure,” she greeted.  “You have a very comfortable home.”

He gave her a small, reserved smile.  “May I introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy?”  Ashmoure led her to the girl who looked so like him, though pale, and Eloise curtseyed to her.

“Is this your pianoforte?” she asked, looking at the great instrument and already knowing the answer.  “You must play after dinner, and I could sing with you,” she suggested, knowing her Mama would accept nothing less.  “It would be such a lovely duet, Miss Darcy.”  She smiled.

Miss Darcy paled at the suggestion, but she tried to smile back.  “I’m afraid I don’t have any music with vocals,” she apologized.  She opened her mouth to say more, but words did not come out.

Eloise looked at her wanting to help, but wasn’t sure how to respond.

Fortunately, Lord Ashmoure approached and went over to the pianoforte.  “I foresaw this problem, Georgiana, Miss Eloise.” He took out a book of music and gave it to his sister.

“Oh,” she murmured.  “I do so enjoy Handel.  Miss Eloise?” she asked.  “Have you sung George Frederick Handel before?”

She went up to Georgiana and looked over her shoulder and pointed out a piece she knew. 

Although it was before dinner, Eloise and Georgiana went up to the pianoforte and sat down.  Georgiana laid her fingers on the keys and began to play and three measures in, Eloise began to sing the soprano part.  They got three-quarters of the way, when Eloise stopped and asked Georgiana to go back and lead into the section again.  She obliged and the two finished on a strong chord.

Their audience clapped hardily and Eloise blushed and laughed to herself before getting up and curtseying.  She tried to get Georgiana to stand and curtsey as well, but Georgiana insisted on staying seated at the pianoforte.

When dinner was announced, Ashmoure led both Georgiana and Eloise into the dining room.  Eloise was seated to his right, with Mama to his left.  Anthony was next to Eloise with Georgiana at the foot of the table.  There was an empty space between Mama and Georgiana.  Effectively, Lord Ashmoure, Eloise, and Mama were conversation partners, leaving Anthony to speak with the shy and mostly silent Georgiana.

“You sang most beautifully,” Darcy complimented her when the first course was brought out.  “Do you often sing with your sister Daphne at the pianoforte?”

Eloise had removed her gloves and was now cutting a piece of bleeding steak, having been prompted by Ashmoure to put some mint jelly on her plate.  “Daphne,” she explained, “doesn’t much care to play with me.  My younger sister Francesca, who is away at Bath, plays with me.”

Mama reached forward to her glass of wine.  “You undoubtedly read the first edition of Lady Whistledown where she explained that I named all of my children alphabetically.”

Ashmoure frowned.  “I’m afraid I wasn’t in town.  She was a well-established publication when I arrived with Georgiana.  I don’t allow Georgiana to read the gossip sheets.”

Eloise licked her lips and looked over at Mama.

“I find no harm in them for my young ladies,” Mama informed him.  “I even find the pamphlet useful when attending balls and teas, although poor Daphne has been a constant topic of conversation.”

Before Ashmoure could comment on Daphne, Eloise put in, “I have been trying to deduce the identity of the lady.  At first I thought it was Lady Danbury, but she denied having any knowledge of the gossip sheet.”

Ashmoure looked at her, his piercing green eyes catching her blue gaze.

“She did thank me for the compliment,” Eloise added when he kept on regarding her.

“What is your new theory, Miss Eloise?”

Eloise glanced at her Mama but then back at Ashmoure.  “I was thinking a servant.  Specifically, one of our servants.”

“Eloise!” Mama exclaimed.

“You cannot deny that we are the constant subjects of Lady Whistledown,” she defended.  “It is more than Daphne being the Diamond.  Lady Whistledown knows what happens in our drawing room.”

“How fascinating,” Ashmoure murmured as he took in Eloise.  “I shall have to purchase the next copy to see if I’m mentioned.”  He took a bite of his dinner.  “What is a Diamond?”

Eloise’s stomach sank.  “It is nothing,” she told him quickly.

Her Mama gave her a knowing look.  Turning to Ashmoure, she explained, “The Queen chooses a favorite each year among the young ladies presented, her Diamond.  This year it was our Daphne.”

Ashmoure nodded.  “Our Queen is the height of sophistication.”

Eloise’s stomach sank even more.

“However,” he added as he took a sip of his wine, “I limit how much I go into society.  I much prefer to be at Pemberley.”  He turned to Eloise.  “Do you much enjoy the country?”

“I love being at Aubrey Hall,” she told him, “our home in Hampshire.”

He smiled at her.

“There’s so much room to roam freely.  You’re not stepping over yourself in the country.”  She cut her meat.  “And then there are country games.”  Eloise saw Mama smile.

“Such as?” Ashmoure asked.

“Pall Mall, for instance,” she said innocently.  “We all play.  I’ve yet to win, but I’ve never lost.”  Eloise shrugged.  “Tennis.  Riding Anthony’s horse.”

“Eloise!” her mother chided.

Ashmoure glanced at Mama before returning his attention to Eloise.  “You don’t have your own horse?”

She shook her head.

He looked thoughtful. 

The end of dinner (which had lemon tarts for dessert!) meant a return to the pianoforte and singing with Georgiana playing.  Eloise performed for the assembly of three and was all smiles at their applause, but Georgiana still remained behind the instrument and refused to be acknowledged. 

Lord Ashmoure walked her to the carriage and handed her in after kissing her hand, and she was left smiling when the carriage began moving.

“So,” Mama said, “I take it Lord Ashmoure is still more than agreeable?”

“Yes, Mama,” Eloise answered a little petulantly.  “I am pleased to go to Darcy House for tea tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m to White’s,” Anthony declared, “I need to see a man about my sister,” and Eloise just shrugged.  The sister certainly wasn’t her.

IV

Darcy lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.  He remembered the sight of Eloise in his drawing room, hair falling down around her shoulders, singing beautifully and with such life.  If he were honest with himself, his existence had lacked life for years.  It had been cold and dutiful.  Eloise was full of life and vivacity—and he needed to get her a horse.  If he got Eloise a horse, he could take her riding.  However, he would have to apply to Viscount Bridgerton first for permission.

When the sun rose hours later, he dashed off a note, asking to be permitted to Bridgerton’s private study.

It was but half an hour that he had his reply.

He dressed in his usual green tones, a tall hat on his head, a fresh cravat about his neck.

“Do I look ready to be received by the future Lady Ashmoure?” he asked his man.

His man stopped brushing his shoulders off and looked at his reflection in the mirror.  “Any young lady would find you a handsome prospect, my lord.  May I ask if she was the young lady here last night?”

“Yes, Blackbourne,” Darcy answered, checking his pocket watch for the time.  “Miss Eloise Bridgerton, the second daughter of the eighth Viscount Bridgerton.  You may tell the servants.”

“Indeed,” Blackbourne agreed.  “I look forward to wishing you much happiness.”  He took up his brush again. 

When Darcy had dressed, he had a short breakfast with Georgiana, who was wearing the family colors of green.  She was not yet out so her hair was tied back slightly away from her face but falling down her shoulders and back.  Her hems were raised and she was wearing a blusher that betrayed her maidenly modesty.

“Did you like the company last night?” he asked her as he drank his coffee.  “Lady Bridgerton was a particular friend of our mother’s.”

“You mean for Miss Bridgerton to be a companion for me now that I am back in London,” she astutely observed.  “You think her of sound moral character and family.”  Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Darcy could still hear her.

“The daughter of a Viscount is ideal in that respect,” he agreed with her, “and you share many interests—music, for instance.”  He set down his coffee cup.  “You should be around girls your own age, not just Mrs. Ainsley.”

Georgiana’s bright green eyes, dulled from meekness, flashed up to meet her brother’s.  “Miss Bridgerton said she had many brothers and sisters.” 

Darcy could detect the fear in Georgiana’s voice.  His sister was afraid of being thrown into a large mix of people.

“You need not bother with the rest of the Bridgertons,” Darcy told her.  “Miss Bridgerton will come here with Lady Bridgerton, perhaps with the Viscount Bridgerton or another brother to serve as chaperone.  They need not bother you.  You ladies can speak privately and play and sing together without interference.”

Georgiana looked up and regarded him for a long moment and then nodded.  “Thank you for your care of me.”

Darcy considered telling Georgiana he meant to marry Eloise, but he had just won a battle in having Georgiana accept her as a companion, and he should not like to ruin it.  He would let Georgiana get used to Eloise before he introduced the idea of matrimony.

The brother and sister finished breakfast in relative silence with only a request from Georgiana to buy more musical scores with a vocal line, which Darcy happily granted.  Directly after breakfast, Darcy got on his horse and rode over to Grosvenor Square to the house covered in wisteria.  A man was there to take his horse and he entered.

“Is Lord Bridgerton accepting visitors?  I have an appointment,” he asked the footman.

He was shown immediately in and saw Bridgerton behind a pile of papers.

“This is just a curtesy, but I intend to purchase Eloise a horse.  I trust that won’t be a problem?”

Bridgerton looked up.  “Has she threatened to steal your horse, too?  She’s always threatening to steal mine.”

“Eloise is too good natured to steal my horse given the shortness of our acquaintance, but she likes to ride and has no horse of her own.”

“Other than mine, you mean,” Bridgerton argued back with a laugh.  His face then turned serious.  “We have room in our stables and the stable hands can take on another animal.  Feed is no problem.  We can afford a horse, if that’s what you’re asking.  I trust the horse will be back in your possession before long.”

Darcy inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Bridgerton chuckled.  “Eloise, if she could choose her own horse, would want one with spirit, but for her mother’s sake, a gentle mare would be preferable.”

“Perhaps a young stallion that could not be raced for lack of spirit and speed, but of good stock,” Darcy suggested, thinking of animal he knew was for sale. 

“A stallion?” Bridgerton asked, disbelieving.  “If you think a lady could ride him.”

Darcy ignored him.  “I have your permission.”

Bridgerton waved a hand in agreement.  “You should know that I’ve engaged my sister Daphne to Lord Burbridge.  She was being trifled with by the Duke of Hastings and honor demanded a swift resolution.”

Not knowing Lord Burbridge, Darcy could only say, “I wish your sister much joy.”

“Thank you,” Bridgerton acknowledged.  “Eloise is in the drawing room with the other ladies if you wish to see her.”

Darcy inclined his head and left the study.  He waited for a footman to show him into the drawing room and saw the Dowager Viscountess and Daphne fussing over a tea table.  Eloise was sitting in a corner with a book of poetry.

“Ah, Lord Ashmoure,” the Dowager Viscountess greeted.  “We are expecting Lady Burbridge.  Our Daphne is engaged.”

“My felicitations,” he offered the bride.

He heard Eloise’s book snap shut.  She stood up and looked over toward the table.  “I’ll just go show Lord Ashmoure the gardens, shall I?  You won’t want us here when Lady Burbridge arrives.”

The Dowager Viscountess seemed to hesitate a moment.  Then, “Take your maid with you, darling.”  She was patting her hair, which was piled on top of her head.  “That would be proper.”

Eloise gave her a large smile and skidded across the room.  Grabbing Darcy’s hand, she threw back, “Enjoy tea, Daphne,” and dragged him out of the door.  As it closed behind them, she turned her large blue eyes on him.  “If Lady Burbridge is half as disagreeable as her son, we don’t want to be present.”

“Hopefully your sister finds Lord Burbridge congenial company.”

“Not even Anthony finds him congenial company and the match was his idea.”  She turned and went to a door and opened it.  A stairwell going downward was revealed and she beckoned him forward.  “Sophie is bound to be down in the kitchens.”

The kitchens were indeed busy and Sophie was indeed there.  She was a pretty creature with blonde hair and milky eyes, dressed in the Bridgerton uniform of a purple dress and white apron.

The gardens were easily accessed from the kitchens and Darcy offered his arm to Eloise, who took it with a casualness that belied her young age. 

“Do you like flowers?” he asked her after a few minutes of silence, the maid following at a respectful distance.

“They’re pleasant,” Eloise agreed.  “I’m not a gardener.”

He paused to admire an orange rose.  “What is your favorite?”

“The carnation,” she answered.  “It’s not so grand as the rose, but it smells twice as sweet.”

“Then if we are to wed,” Darcy suggested, “we should always have carnations in the house, for your pleasure.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him with her wide blue eyes.  “Do the gardens of Pemberley grow carnations in particular?” she asked after a long pause.

“No, but I will happily write to the head gardener and amend that deficit.”

She looked up at him cautiously, Eloise only coming up to his shoulder, Darcy being so tall, but then she nodded.  “I do enjoy lilac trees,” she admitted, pulling him further into the garden toward such a tree.  “They are beautiful, are they not?”

Darcy looked down at her, laughing and looking up at the weeping lilac, and murmured, “Indeed.”

Eloise glanced at him again and a light blush suffused her cheeks.  She cleared her throat.  “What’s your favorite, Lord Ashmoure?”

“My mother always had cut roses in the house,” he admitted.  “I do understand it is a rather obvious choice.”

“Your mother died when you were young?” she asked perceptively, picking a hanging lilac and then bringing it to her nose to smell.  Eloise looked the picture of desirable innocence in her blue dress with the flower to her nose.

“She died when I was but twelve,” he told her.

Eloise nodded.  “Papa died when I was eleven.  Mama was with child.”  She paused.  “With Hyacinth.  We thought we were going to lose her, too.”

“To lose a mother and a father would have been beyond unfortunate,” Darcy asserted, reaching up and picking another lilac to give to Eloise.  “Georgiana was but four when our father died.  I have had to be both father and mother to her.”

“I am sure she is most grateful to you.  I am grateful for all that Anthony has done for our family since Papa died—” she intimated.  “Though marrying Daphne to Lord Burbridge—”

“Is he really quite so bad?”

She lowered the flowers from her nose and leaned in to whisper, “He has a black eye.  No one will say where it came from.”

“A duel of honor,” Darcy suggested.

“Wouldn’t that be with guns or swords and at dawn?” she asked, “Not with fists?”

He gave her a small smile and picked her another lilac, first smelling it himself.  “Perhaps you are right,” he conceded.

She plucked the offered flower from his fingers.  “I am so often right even though Anthony won’t admit it.”  Eloise smiled at him.  “How is Miss Darcy today?”

“Glad for your friendship.  She and Mrs. Ainsley are going to purchase more music this afternoon.”

“Then I will have more of an opportunity to sing, since Francesca is still in Bath.”  Her blue eyes shone wide with happiness.  “I do play a little, but not as fine as my sisters.”

He came up to her and subtly leaned down to breathe in the smell of rose water in her hair.  “Then,” he murmured behind her ear, “you shall have to play for me if not for Georgiana.”

She turned up at him, flowers in hand, and looked up at him with those wondrous blue eyes.  “I know I should not speak of such things, Lord Ashmoure, but I do not know why you should wish to marry me instead of Daphne—or indeed any young lady of the ton.”

Darcy didn’t answer at first.  “You were reading Byron when I came into the drawing room.”

Her eyes grew even wider.

He placed his hands behind his back.  “I doubt the Dowager Viscountess or the Viscount knows.”  He looked at her and waited until she shook her head.

“You shan’t tell, shall you?” she asked carefully, looking over her shoulder at where her maid was sitting on a bench a little ways down from them.  Her hair whipped around her shoulders as she turned back toward Darcy.  “I spent my own pin money on it.”

“I know you did,” he quieted as if she were a horse.  “But that is the reason why I want to marry you and not someone like your sister Daphne.”

“Because I read Lord Byron?”

“Because you dare to read Lord Byron,” he amended for her. 

“Some people would call me willful,” Eloise pointed out as she turned to walk around him, never letting her beautiful blue eyes leave him. 

“Nay, ‘tis not that,” Darcy reasoned as he followed her deeper into the lilac tree.  “You have a voracious need for knowledge, and you follow your good judgement to its logical conclusion, although that conclusion may be unconventional.”

Eloise blushed prettily and went back to smelling the lilacs.

Darcy watched her contentedly.

They meandered through the gardens, Darcy picking flowers for Eloise and she, on occasion, for him, until their hands were overflowing when they came inside to the drawing room.

“Is Lady Burbridge gone?” Eloise asked when they entered, handing her flowers to a footman.

“Indeed,” the Dowager Viscountess answered.  “And we ladies are going out.  You may stay here in your room, Eloise, with your poetry if you wish.”

Darcy murmured, “I fear calling hours are over.”  He took Eloise’s hand and bent over it.  “I hope I have allayed some of your fears, Miss Eloise.”

She smiled at him.  “Indeed.  Thank you for the flowers.  I’ll have Sophie put them beside my bed.”

He nodded.  Then—“Lady Bridgerton.  Miss Bridgerton.  I hope you had an excellent tea.  Miss Darcy will be sending her card later this afternoon for Miss Eloise on Thursday.”

“Marvelous,” the Dowager Viscountess enthused.  “We shall find someone to escort her.”

He bowed one last time to the ladies and then once specifically to Eloise and then left.  He had handed off his flowers to be placed with Eloise’s beside her bed, so he had only to collect his hat and walking stick before getting on his horse and riding home.

Darcy, however, had a visitor at Darcy House.

“Where were you?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.  “It’s not like you to go calling.” 

Colonel Fitzwilliam was the younger son of his mother’s brother, the Earl of Matlock, and nearly possessed Darcy’s height.  His eyes were a light brown instead of a green, but his hair was just as dark a brown and also had a waviness about it that was almost reminiscent of a curl.  The two men had often been mistaken as brothers when they were younger, the Colonel being only three years older than Darcy.  He was also Georgiana’s other guardian and felt keenly her situation.

“I was visiting Miss Eloise Bridgerton,” Darcy told his cousin, whose head turned at the name.

“I know a Miss Daphne Bridgerton,” Fitzwilliam admitted, clearly knowing of the Season if not being actively involved in it himself.

“Her elder sister.”

Fitzwilliam looked mildly pensive.  “I hadn’t realized there was another one.  Then again, I am not actively seeking a fortune at this time.”  He accepted the brandy Darcy gave him and then paused, “Are you pursuing matrimony, Cousin?”

“I am,” Darcy admitted.  “Miss Eloise is the perfect choice and an ideal companion to Georgiana.”

“They have met?”

“They have, although Georgiana does not know my designs on Miss Eloise at present.  She thinks I have simply found a companion for her.”  Darcy was hopeful that she would rejoice, though if Darcy was honest with himself, she would simply accept and show no emotion at all.

Fitzwilliam leaned back.  “You’re serious.”

“Have you ever known me not to be when I’ve set my mind to a purpose?”  Darcy was nothing if not a man of single-minded purpose. 

“No,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “You are always set on your course.”  He looked into his glass.  “How does the lady feel?”

“She is coming around to my way of thinking.”  He thought of Eloise and how beautiful she looked with in her blue dress and blusher, lilacs in her hand.  A smile must have showed on his face because Fitzwilliam gave him a knowing look.

“The lady must be wooed—or is she wooed already?”

“It is an ongoing campaign,” Darcy admitted, looking over at his cousin in his regimentals.  “The Dowager Countess and Lord Bridgerton see my way of thinking so the battle is half won.”  He tapped his fingers against the wood of his desk.  “And the lady is well disposed toward me.”

Fitzwilliam smirked at him.  “Then I am soon to wish you joy.”

Darcy only inclined his head.  “Georgiana must send her card.  Eloise is to come Thursday.”

“Then, with your permission, I will be here Thursday.”  Fitzwilliam gave him a hard look.

Darcy would not be cowed.  “It is bad enough that one of her brothers must be in attendance if the Dowager Viscountess is otherwise engaged.  You would not frighten poor Georgiana into complete silence.  You should have seen her last night.  We convinced her to play the pianoforte, as accomplished as always, with Miss Eloise singing, but we could not get her to come out from behind it!”

“It’s all Wickham,” Fitzwilliam commiserated.  “She was always shy before but now she is meek and afraid of her own shadow.—But,” he amended when Darcy made to speak.  “I am her guardian and her favorite cousin.  She is not afraid of me.  She is far more likely to be afraid of whatever Bridgerton brother appears with Miss Eloise.—Perhaps a match could be made with one of them.”

“Viscount Bridgerton is not interested,” Darcy told him, remembering the night before, “not that I believe he is actively looking.  Georgiana is too young, anyway.”

“True,” Fitzwilliam agreed.  “Still, I will be in attendance.”

Darcy’s green eyes shone as he regarded his cousin.  “Very well.  Eloise should be here at two o’clock.”

He stood to pull the bell pull.  A servant soon appeared.  “I need to see Miss Darcy,” he instructed the footman.  Georgiana appeared not five minutes later.  “Ah, Georgiana.  I told Lady Bridgerton you would send Miss Eloise your card for Thursday afternoon.”

Georgiana hesitated, then, “If you think that’s best.”

“I shall be there, little cousin,” Fitzwilliam promised from where he was seated.  “I should like to take stock of Miss Bridgerton.”

Georgiana immediately relaxed in the shoulders.  “You shall like her, Cousin Richard.  She sings like a songbird.”

“Then I look forward to the performance,” Fitzwilliam told her with a smile. 

It was all decided.  Now Darcy just had to see about a horse.

V

The next Lady Whistledown was published and Eloise saw that it was full of Lord Burbridge and his illegitimate child and had nothing of Lord Ashmoure.  She turned to Mama who was sitting on the opposite settee, likewise reading, with a question in her eye.

Daphne was sitting beside her and likewise reading a copy.

“Ah,” Mama declared, “your engagement is over, Daphne.”

Daphne squealed like a little girl but soon recovered herself.

Eloise licked her lips.  “How did she completely miss Lord Ashmoure and his attentions to me?  She knew everything about Lord Burbridge and nothing—”  She fell quiet and looked down at the gossip sheet in complete bewilderment.

“It is quite simple, darling,” her mother told her.  “It’s not a servant in this house.  It is a servant or lady elsewhere.  Lady Whistledown does not have eyes on this house but she has ears.  We have not spoken of Lord Ashmoure to anyone.  Have you spoken of him to anyone, Eloise, even your friend Penelope?”

“No,” Eloise breathed, her fingers tightening against the gossip sheet.  “I—Ash is all mine.  He’s no one else’s.”

“Well, I have not spoken of it,” Mama continued, letting the nickname slip.  “Daphne, have you spoken of Lord Ashmoure?”

Daphne smoothed out her skirt, as if there were creases in it although there were none.  “Of course not, Mama.  I would not speak of Eloise’s good fortune when I had none of my own.”

Mama nodded sagely.  “I know Anthony has not spoken on it, nor any of your other brothers.—Lady Whistledown has ears on this house. It is how she heard of Lord Burbridge’s distress, which we ourselves learnt at tea just the other day.  Lady Whistledown, however, does not and never has had eyes here.  That is the difference.”

Eloise swallowed.  “I shall have to amend my theory.”

“You shall,” Mama agreed kindly.  “Now, Miss Darcy has asked you to tea this afternoon.  Shall you like to take Benedict?  He can bring his sketch book.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And we, Daphne, shall be promenading with the Duke of Hastings.”  Her eyes lit up.  “What a successful day both of my daughters shall have.”

Eloise looked over at her sister and couldn’t help but compare the two of them.  Anthony kept on insisting that the Duke of Hastings was trifling with Daphne, but Mama was ecstatic at such a well-placed suitor.  Daphne seemed undecided, carefully serene in the face of love.

Eloise wished she could speak to her sister about the strange fluttery feeling she had in the pit of her stomach when Lord Ashmoure was close to her.  However, she feared that Daphne felt nothing at all.  She did not know the feeling of weightlessness when she entered a room or the desire to catch a man’s eyes or the fear she felt just before their gazes met.  Did she know how comfortable it felt to be in a man’s company, as if he were her comforter and her dearest friend?

The first of the morning flowers arrived and Eloise picked her book up to retreat to a distant couch.  She was just settling in when Daphne’s voice pierced her consciousness, “This one’s for you, Eloise.”

Looking up, Eloise saw Daphne standing in front of an arrangement of lilacs and carnations.  She instantly smiled.  Taking the card from Daphne she read, Since you cannot be at Pemberley.  To her mother, she said, “They’re from Lord Ashmoure.”

“What an odd bouquet,” Daphne commented.

Feeling defensive, Eloise immediately said, “They’re both my favorite.  I love the smell of carnations and lilacs.”

“Well,” Daphne replied, “He must know you well.”  She sounded doubtful, but Eloise didn’t much care.

Instead, she picked up her bouquet and carried it over to her couch and set it down.  Benedict had come in and was sketching something in his book, and he looked over at her.  “From Lord Ashmoure?” he asked.  “We’re going at two.”

“Georgiana and I will play and sing,” she told him, setting down the flowers and poking at them to have something to do with her hands.  “You can ignore us and sketch.”

“Oh, I intend to, sister,” he assured her.  He looked over at Mama and then leaned in closer to her.  “Does he know you smoke?”

“Hush,” she immediately shushed him, “do you want to get me into trouble?”

He smiled widely up at her and went back to his sketchbook. 

The footman entered and announced a gentleman and Eloise rolled her eyes.  The first had arrived and would be all-adoring to Daphne.

After lunch she had to subject herself to Sophie and her ministrations.  Her hair was curled, her bow was fixed, and her blusher was arranged.  “This is pointless.  I am not yet out,” she told Mama who came to check on her.  “I still look like a child.”

“A child on the cusp of womanhood.”  Mama touched the white bow in her hair.  “You look quite pretty.”  She took her by the hands and led her to sit on the bed.  “You are only fourteen months younger than Daphne.”

“It is difficult,” she admitted.  “Has Daphne been in love?”

“I think she has although she won’t admit it,” Mama told her.

“What does it feel like?” Eloise asked anxiously.

“Like that,” Mama told her, “Like you’re queasy in the pit of your stomach.  Like all you want is to be is in his company.  Like you desire his good opinion above all others’.”

Eloise breathed out slowly through her nose.  “Then perhaps I will be married before Daphne.”

“Oh, my dear,” Mama said, pulling her into a hug.  “Perhaps you will.”

Darcy House was just as Eloise remembered it, though of course it was Benedict’s first time as a guest.  She introduced him to Lord Ashmoure and Miss Darcy and they, in turn, were introduced to a Darcy cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. 

It was after Georgiana and Eloise had performed for well over an hour and tea was called, that Eloise thanked Ashmoure for the flowers.  “Daphne thought they were for her,” she told him quietly, “but she was incorrect.”

“I am glad they met with your approval,” he told her.  “It is my wish that you wake up smelling carnations and lilacs every morning.”

“Why,” Georgiana asked, her voice a little breathlessly, “would you send Miss Eloise flowers, Fitzwilliam?”

At first, Eloise thought Georgiana was addressing her cousin—Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam—but then she realized she was asking her question of Lord Ashmoure.  She looked between the brother and sister and thought that surely Georgiana should realize the answer to her question.  Glancing at her brother, she caught Benedict’s eye and he shook his head at her, telling her to remain quiet.

“I sent Miss Eloise flowers, Georgiana,” Lord Ashmoure said patiently, “because I am a suitor for her hand.  Surely that has been obvious to you.”

Georgiana paled.  “It has not been obvious,” she hummed, her voice still barely above a whisper.  “She is not yet out!”  Here her voice took a small bit of strength and her green eyes flashed to her brother.

Benedict put down his teacup.  “This has been a wonderful tea.  I think Eloise and I should be going.  Mama shall surely be wanting us.”  He looked at Eloise pointedly, their matching blue eyes holding.

“Yes,” she agreed.  “Mama was fretting before I left.  Miss Darcy,” she turned to her hostess, who was staring at her older brother, “thank you—”

“How can you marry Miss Eloise Bridgerton,” Georgiana’s voice was small, breathless, but nonetheless audible, “who is not yet out but I cannot marry my choice in George Wickham?”

Eloise’s teeth clicked shut.

Georgiana quivered on the edge of her seat.

Lord Ashmoure was sitting, completely relaxed in his seat, his eyes never leaving his sister.  “Bridgerton, Miss Eloise,” he said, voice firm, “you must forgive my sister; she is unwell.  May we beg your pardon and reconvene for tea at a later date?”

“Of course,” Benedict agreed, glancing over at Eloise who was sitting beside a still seething Georgiana.  “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Eloise was immediately out of her seat and walked out as calmly as she could.  She waited for Benedict to open the door for her and waited on the other side of it.  Voices immediately picked up on the other side.

Benedict took her arm and walked her forward.  The first footman they saw was dispatched to get their carriage and they waited in the foyer for what seemed like an age.  Their silence was finally broken when they got in the carriage.

“Is my marriage ruined because of Georgiana?” she asked quietly as she watched Benedict carefully.

He looked at her kindly and reached out to take her hand.  “That’s for Anthony to decide.  This may just be a child acting out.  How old is Miss Darcy?  Is she in much company?”

“Fifteen?” Eloise guessed.  “She is only in my company and the company of her companion, Mrs. Ainsley.”

“Well,” Benedict told her carefully.  “Anthony will have to speak to Ashmoure at the very least.—Who is George Wickham?”

Eloise shrugged.

Anthony had much to say on the subject, but not in front of Eloise.  He and Benedict were locked in his study for a full half an hour after Anthony arrived home and Eloise was left to walk in the garden, not that she did.  She only knew that Lord Ashmoure had arrived half an hour after that because she was curled up outside of the office at that point, waiting for Anthony to come out.  Mama had gone in five minutes earlier.

She stood when she saw Darcy, knowing that her gloves were somewhere else and her bow was probably off-kilter.

“You shouldn’t be on the floor, Eloise,” he chided, lifting her further off the floor.

She smiled at him.  “There isn’t a chair,” she joked.  “Is Miss Darcy well?”

“She is settled,” he told her.  “I thought she would accept my suit of you quietly.  I was incorrect in my assumption.”  Ashmoure reached up and carefully pushed a piece of hair away from her face.  “I apologize for embarrassing you and for causing you pain and uncertainty.”

Eloise nodded, but she pulled away from him.  “You’ll be wanting to talk to Anthony.”

“And then I shall be wanting to talk to you.  I always wanted you to know.  It is merely a delicate subject.”

She nodded.

“Don’t wait on the floor,” he begged her as he fully released her.  His green gaze caught her blue one and he nodded once before turning to the door and knocking. 

Anthony answered and looked at him with a scowl and then turned his attention to Eloise.  “El, go wait in your room.  Mother will be up presently.”

She nodded at him and pushed herself off the wall.  Walking toward the stairs, she looked back and saw Ashmoure being admitted to the study.  The next ten minutes would determine if the arrangement would stand, whether or not she would one day be the Marchioness of Ashmoure.  For all she spoke about the education of women, it was men who decided her fate.  They had put forth the notion to begin with and they were speaking about the continuation of it now.  At the end of the season, if the Arrangement survived, Ashmoure would ask her prettily if she would be his wife, but her answer would be a foregone conclusion, arranged by Anthony.  She had no power.  She could only be happy or sad—and in this moment she only felt numb.

The End.