Chapter 4
If audio player doesn't work, press Stop then Play button again
The Marques Waverly leaned picturesquely against the railing overlooking the dance floor, as his aunt, the Countess Briarly, approached. "So, what do you think of the Dowen girls," she asked without preliminarily pleasantries.
He cast a puzzled frown in her direction. "I think nothing of them, I suppose, as I don't know which girls you speak of?"
The worthy lady sighed, and returned her nephew's frown. "What have you done with your dinner partner?" She chuckled as his eyebrow shot up at the question. "If you've buried her in my garden, I shall have a dreadful time explaining it to her mother," she quizzed him lightly.
His brow snapped down and his face assumed a very neutral expression. "I just showed her to the library."
"And there she will remain for the rest of the evening I suppose." His aunt sighed again and leaned on the railing at her nephew's side.
He turned toward her, resting on one arm. "Do you have any idea," he paused as if seeking words, "what sort of disgrace she might be in with her family?"
This inquiry elicited a shocked expression, and a quizzical look very like his own was directed upon him. "No? I've no idea?"
"I can't think it's anything terribly serious. Though she sounded as if it were..." he trailed off.
"Oh my dear," laughed his aunt, "don't tell me that you've grown so old that you've forgotten that everything is serious at that age?" He frowned back at her. She went on, "And what has you in such a mood this evening, don't try to tell me that you are not in one?"
He pursed his lips and then replied, "I shouldn't dare. And I suppose perhaps I'm not entirely beyond the age of taking everything too seriously myself. I don't suppose you would excuse me the rest of the evening?" he inquired hopefully.
"Not unless you tell me what has been bothering you, for you looked quite fierce earlier, and seem to have lapsed into melancholy."
"Well," he paused, perhaps to gather himself for the tale, "I've wasted a fair bit of money on a project that was doomed to fail. Had a bit of swamp that I tried to have drained. Of course, I very properly had the long ditch out to the swamp dug before trying to dig into the swamp. Only to find that there is artesian water laced throughout the damned thing. So then to prevent the nearby stream from being altered in its course, I was forced to pay to have the ditch filled back in, and absolutely nothing was accomplished in the end."
"That does sound frustrating? But these things happen, surely there is more to it than that?" his aunt inquired.
"Well, it was frustrating." He offered her a wry half grin. "And I thought to visit my mistress afterwards, to er, ease my frustrations. Only to be turned from her door, and told in no uncertain terms that she is done with me." His expression rather grim, he stopped there for a few moments, and then continued, "She took such care to make sure I overheard her say in the background that there had never been anything significant between us, that I can neither doubt that she is done with me, nor help suspecting that the words were not entirely directed at me. So you see, it is nothing so serious, but I cannot help but take it too seriously." He made no mention of more recent incidents, but his expression shifted from grim to pensive.
His aunt digested his tale in silence for a few moments. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped then, you may withdraw rather than continue to glower and mope at my other guests. However," she grinned at him, "you must promise to go riding with me tomorrow, and we shall use this as an excuse to have a good gallop across the fields."
He laughed and his expression lightened. "Alright, agreed. Tomorrow then," he said and made his bow.
--
Not long after her nephew left, the Countess Briarly approached her friend, Lady Constance Dowen, who had married the Lord Justice of Appeals Matthew Dowen long before he had held that office. The Countess had once doubted her friend's decision to marry beneath her, but time had proven that Constance had chosen well.
Lady Dowen stood with two of her daughters at the edge of the dance floor, but occasionally peered about as though searching for someone. Armed with her nephew's information, she felt she might ease the lady's distress. "Dearest Constance, are you looking for your other daughter?"
Constance nodded back. "She didn't return to us after supper. Her seat was changed at the last minute?" the question was added not quite querulously.
The Countess smiled ruefully. "Yes, that was my fault, a bit of failed matchmaking I'm afraid. And my nephew has deposited her in the library, and turned in for the evening," she said with an expression just short of a pout.
Constance's mouth formed a silent o.
Lady Briarly continued, "He said that she seems to feel that she's in some sort of dire disgrace with her family?"
This statement elicited only a puzzled expression from the small, still pretty, and rather plump mother of the three Dowen girls in attendance that night.
The youngest girl ventured uncertainly, "Mama, are you putting it on?" At the baffled expression she received in reply, Anne protested, "Of course she thinks she's in disgrace?" Then realizing that perhaps she oughtn't say any more in company, she quickly offered, "I'll go fetch her from the library." And she turned away, but then turned back. "Ah, where is it?" she asked.
Lady Briarly chuckled, and indicated the doors to a passageway, "It's through there, third door on the left."
Anne made her escape.
Her puzzled mother turned inquisitively toward the eldest of her daughter's attending that night. "Rebecca? Do you know?"
Rebecca shot a glance toward Lady Briarly, but answered her mother. "Well, she's been mucking out stables everyday for over a month now. How can she not assume she's in disgrace?" she asked, casting another glance.
"Oh no!" A horrified exclamation from Lady Dowen.
Lady Briarly chuckled. "I sense a story, you simply must share it Constance! And do not fear, for my own father once forced me to muck out a stable, though only until I proved I could do it properly and understood how much work went into it, and not for an entire month." She continued, to the curious and slightly shocked stares of her audience, "for I desperately wanted a pony. And my father hated ponies. He thought that cleaning the stable would halt my requests. In the end, I got a pony. And I loved the little beast, though my father hated it, and it hated him in return." She chuckled again.
"Conkers," said Constance faintly.
"Yes," replied the Countess. "I rode him for a couple years after I might have moved up to a riding horse even." She smiled reminiscently.
"You used to speak of him every time we went riding when we were younger, Claire," said Constance.
"So now you must share your daughter's story." Lady Briarly grinned wickedly.
"Oh dear," sighed Constance, "well, it's nothing really dreadful. Only that she was careless after a ride near the beginning of the summer, and one of the grooms was injured in protecting her. Her father assigned her to take over a part of the man's work as punishment while he heals. But she's not in disgrace! At least, not with me..." she trailed off.
Lady Briarly smiled and tried to set her friend at ease. "Is that all? I was hoping for some grand adventure," she said with a slightly wistful look.
--
In the library, Elizabeth jumped when the door opened and thumped into its stop. Anne laughed, and asked, "Are you scribbling in the margins of that book?"
Elizabeth looked up, outraged, "I would never do such a thing to someone else's book!"
"Then what has you jumping so guiltily?" Excitedly asking, "Is it a naughty sort of book?" Anne crossed the library quickly and peered over her older sister's shoulder at the open page. She pouted. "Tis only a botanical text. How disappointing. Why did you jump?"
Elizabeth's answer was rather flustered, "It was only, that the library was so quiet, the noise of the door startled me."
"Oh," replied her sister, already bored. "Well, you must return with me to the dance floor, Mama has been looking for you since supper."
Elizabeth frowned slightly, "I didn't really expect to be looked for tonight."
"I don't think she realizes that you must feel like you're currently in disgrace," said Anne offhandedly. "Come, what if I miss a dance someone would have asked me to while fetching you."
Elizabeth laughed lightly and gave in, Anne grabbed her arm and practically dragged her back out into the noise of Lady Briarly's summer dance and supper party.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
The Marques Waverly leaned picturesquely against the railing overlooking the dance floor, as his aunt, the Countess Briarly, approached. "So, what do you think of the Dowen girls," she asked without preliminarily pleasantries.
He cast a puzzled frown in her direction. "I think nothing of them, I suppose, as I don't know which girls you speak of?"
The worthy lady sighed, and returned her nephew's frown. "What have you done with your dinner partner?" She chuckled as his eyebrow shot up at the question. "If you've buried her in my garden, I shall have a dreadful time explaining it to her mother," she quizzed him lightly.
His brow snapped down and his face assumed a very neutral expression. "I just showed her to the library."
"And there she will remain for the rest of the evening I suppose." His aunt sighed again and leaned on the railing at her nephew's side.
He turned toward her, resting on one arm. "Do you have any idea," he paused as if seeking words, "what sort of disgrace she might be in with her family?"
This inquiry elicited a shocked expression, and a quizzical look very like his own was directed upon him. "No? I've no idea?"
"I can't think it's anything terribly serious. Though she sounded as if it were..." he trailed off.
"Oh my dear," laughed his aunt, "don't tell me that you've grown so old that you've forgotten that everything is serious at that age?" He frowned back at her. She went on, "And what has you in such a mood this evening, don't try to tell me that you are not in one?"
He pursed his lips and then replied, "I shouldn't dare. And I suppose perhaps I'm not entirely beyond the age of taking everything too seriously myself. I don't suppose you would excuse me the rest of the evening?" he inquired hopefully.
"Not unless you tell me what has been bothering you, for you looked quite fierce earlier, and seem to have lapsed into melancholy."
"Well," he paused, perhaps to gather himself for the tale, "I've wasted a fair bit of money on a project that was doomed to fail. Had a bit of swamp that I tried to have drained. Of course, I very properly had the long ditch out to the swamp dug before trying to dig into the swamp. Only to find that there is artesian water laced throughout the damned thing. So then to prevent the nearby stream from being altered in its course, I was forced to pay to have the ditch filled back in, and absolutely nothing was accomplished in the end."
"That does sound frustrating? But these things happen, surely there is more to it than that?" his aunt inquired.
"Well, it was frustrating." He offered her a wry half grin. "And I thought to visit my mistress afterwards, to er, ease my frustrations. Only to be turned from her door, and told in no uncertain terms that she is done with me." His expression rather grim, he stopped there for a few moments, and then continued, "She took such care to make sure I overheard her say in the background that there had never been anything significant between us, that I can neither doubt that she is done with me, nor help suspecting that the words were not entirely directed at me. So you see, it is nothing so serious, but I cannot help but take it too seriously." He made no mention of more recent incidents, but his expression shifted from grim to pensive.
His aunt digested his tale in silence for a few moments. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped then, you may withdraw rather than continue to glower and mope at my other guests. However," she grinned at him, "you must promise to go riding with me tomorrow, and we shall use this as an excuse to have a good gallop across the fields."
He laughed and his expression lightened. "Alright, agreed. Tomorrow then," he said and made his bow.
--
Not long after her nephew left, the Countess Briarly approached her friend, Lady Constance Dowen, who had married the Lord Justice of Appeals Matthew Dowen long before he had held that office. The Countess had once doubted her friend's decision to marry beneath her, but time had proven that Constance had chosen well.
Lady Dowen stood with two of her daughters at the edge of the dance floor, but occasionally peered about as though searching for someone. Armed with her nephew's information, she felt she might ease the lady's distress. "Dearest Constance, are you looking for your other daughter?"
Constance nodded back. "She didn't return to us after supper. Her seat was changed at the last minute?" the question was added not quite querulously.
The Countess smiled ruefully. "Yes, that was my fault, a bit of failed matchmaking I'm afraid. And my nephew has deposited her in the library, and turned in for the evening," she said with an expression just short of a pout.
Constance's mouth formed a silent o.
Lady Briarly continued, "He said that she seems to feel that she's in some sort of dire disgrace with her family?"
This statement elicited only a puzzled expression from the small, still pretty, and rather plump mother of the three Dowen girls in attendance that night.
The youngest girl ventured uncertainly, "Mama, are you putting it on?" At the baffled expression she received in reply, Anne protested, "Of course she thinks she's in disgrace?" Then realizing that perhaps she oughtn't say any more in company, she quickly offered, "I'll go fetch her from the library." And she turned away, but then turned back. "Ah, where is it?" she asked.
Lady Briarly chuckled, and indicated the doors to a passageway, "It's through there, third door on the left."
Anne made her escape.
Her puzzled mother turned inquisitively toward the eldest of her daughter's attending that night. "Rebecca? Do you know?"
Rebecca shot a glance toward Lady Briarly, but answered her mother. "Well, she's been mucking out stables everyday for over a month now. How can she not assume she's in disgrace?" she asked, casting another glance.
"Oh no!" A horrified exclamation from Lady Dowen.
Lady Briarly chuckled. "I sense a story, you simply must share it Constance! And do not fear, for my own father once forced me to muck out a stable, though only until I proved I could do it properly and understood how much work went into it, and not for an entire month." She continued, to the curious and slightly shocked stares of her audience, "for I desperately wanted a pony. And my father hated ponies. He thought that cleaning the stable would halt my requests. In the end, I got a pony. And I loved the little beast, though my father hated it, and it hated him in return." She chuckled again.
"Conkers," said Constance faintly.
"Yes," replied the Countess. "I rode him for a couple years after I might have moved up to a riding horse even." She smiled reminiscently.
"You used to speak of him every time we went riding when we were younger, Claire," said Constance.
"So now you must share your daughter's story." Lady Briarly grinned wickedly.
"Oh dear," sighed Constance, "well, it's nothing really dreadful. Only that she was careless after a ride near the beginning of the summer, and one of the grooms was injured in protecting her. Her father assigned her to take over a part of the man's work as punishment while he heals. But she's not in disgrace! At least, not with me..." she trailed off.
Lady Briarly smiled and tried to set her friend at ease. "Is that all? I was hoping for some grand adventure," she said with a slightly wistful look.
--
In the library, Elizabeth jumped when the door opened and thumped into its stop. Anne laughed, and asked, "Are you scribbling in the margins of that book?"
Elizabeth looked up, outraged, "I would never do such a thing to someone else's book!"
"Then what has you jumping so guiltily?" Excitedly asking, "Is it a naughty sort of book?" Anne crossed the library quickly and peered over her older sister's shoulder at the open page. She pouted. "Tis only a botanical text. How disappointing. Why did you jump?"
Elizabeth's answer was rather flustered, "It was only, that the library was so quiet, the noise of the door startled me."
"Oh," replied her sister, already bored. "Well, you must return with me to the dance floor, Mama has been looking for you since supper."
Elizabeth frowned slightly, "I didn't really expect to be looked for tonight."
"I don't think she realizes that you must feel like you're currently in disgrace," said Anne offhandedly. "Come, what if I miss a dance someone would have asked me to while fetching you."
Elizabeth laughed lightly and gave in, Anne grabbed her arm and practically dragged her back out into the noise of Lady Briarly's summer dance and supper party.
The Marques Waverly leaned picturesquely against the railing overlooking the dance floor, as his aunt, the Countess Briarly, approached. "So, what do you think of the Dowen girls," she asked without preliminarily pleasantries. He cast a puzzled frown in her direction. "I think nothing of them, I suppose, as I don't know which girls you speak of?" The worthy lady sighed, and returned her nephew's frown. "What have you done with your dinner partner?" She chuckled as his eyebrow shot up at the question. "If you've buried her in my garden, I shall have a dreadful time explaining it to her mother," she quizzed him lightly. His brow snapped down and his face assumed a very neutral expression. "I just showed her to the library." "And there she will remain for the rest of the evening I suppose." His aunt sighed again and leaned on the railing at her nephew's side. He turned toward her, resting on one arm. "Do you have any idea," he paused as if seeking words, "what sort of disgrace she might be in with her family?" This inquiry elicited a shocked expression, and a quizzical look very like his own was directed upon him. "No? I've no idea?" "I can't think it's anything terribly serious. Though she sounded as if it were..." he trailed off. "Oh my dear," laughed his aunt, "don't tell me that you've grown so old that you've forgotten that everything is serious at that age?" He frowned back at her. She went on, "And what has you in such a mood this evening, don't try to tell me that you are not in one?" He pursed his lips and then replied, "I shouldn't dare. And I suppose perhaps I'm not entirely beyond the age of taking everything too seriously myself. I don't suppose you would excuse me the rest of the evening?" he inquired hopefully. "Not unless you tell me what has been bothering you, for you looked quite fierce earlier, and seem to have lapsed into melancholy." "Well," he paused, perhaps to gather himself for the tale, "I've wasted a fair bit of money on a project that was doomed to fail. Had a bit of swamp that I tried to have drained. Of course, I very properly had the long ditch out to the swamp dug before trying to dig into the swamp. Only to find that there is artesian water laced throughout the damned thing. So then to prevent the nearby stream from being altered in its course, I was forced to pay to have the ditch filled back in, and absolutely nothing was accomplished in the end." "That does sound frustrating? But these things happen, surely there is more to it than that?" his aunt inquired. "Well, it was frustrating." He offered her a wry half grin. "And I thought to visit my mistress afterwards, to er, ease my frustrations. Only to be turned from her door, and told in no uncertain terms that she is done with me." His expression rather grim, he stopped there for a few moments, and then continued, "She took such care to make sure I overheard her say in the background that there had never been anything significant between us, that I can neither doubt that she is done with me, nor help suspecting that the words were not entirely directed at me. So you see, it is nothing so serious, but I cannot help but take it too seriously." He made no mention of more recent incidents, but his expression shifted from grim to pensive. His aunt digested his tale in silence for a few moments. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped then, you may withdraw rather than continue to glower and mope at my other guests. However," she grinned at him, "you must promise to go riding with me tomorrow, and we shall use this as an excuse to have a good gallop across the fields." He laughed and his expression lightened. "Alright, agreed. Tomorrow then," he said and made his bow. -- Not long after her nephew left, the Countess Briarly approached her friend, Lady Constance Dowen, who had married the Lord Justice of Appeals Matthew Dowen long before he had held that office. The Countess had once doubted her friend's decision to marry beneath her, but time had proven that Constance had chosen well. Lady Dowen stood with two of her daughters at the edge of the dance floor, but occasionally peered about as though searching for someone. Armed with her nephew's information, she felt she might ease the lady's distress. "Dearest Constance, are you looking for your other daughter?" Constance nodded back. "She didn't return to us after supper. Her seat was changed at the last minute?" the question was added not quite querulously. The Countess smiled ruefully. "Yes, that was my fault, a bit of failed matchmaking I'm afraid. And my nephew has deposited her in the library, and turned in for the evening," she said with an expression just short of a pout. Constance's mouth formed a silent o. Lady Briarly continued, "He said that she seems to feel that she's in some sort of dire disgrace with her family?" This statement elicited only a puzzled expression from the small, still pretty, and rather plump mother of the three Dowen girls in attendance that night. The youngest girl ventured uncertainly, "Mama, are you putting it on?" At the baffled expression she received in reply, Anne protested, "Of course she thinks she's in disgrace?" Then realizing that perhaps she oughtn't say any more in company, she quickly offered, "I'll go fetch her from the library." And she turned away, but then turned back. "Ah, where is it?" she asked. Lady Briarly chuckled, and indicated the doors to a passageway, "It's through there, third door on the left." Anne made her escape. Her puzzled mother turned inquisitively toward the eldest of her daughter's attending that night. "Rebecca? Do you know?" Rebecca shot a glance toward Lady Briarly, but answered her mother. "Well, she's been mucking out stables everyday for over a month now. How can she not assume she's in disgrace?" she asked, casting another glance. "Oh no!" A horrified exclamation from Lady Dowen. Lady Briarly chuckled. "I sense a story, you simply must share it Constance! And do not fear, for my own father once forced me to muck out a stable, though only until I proved I could do it properly and understood how much work went into it, and not for an entire month." She continued, to the curious and slightly shocked stares of her audience, "for I desperately wanted a pony. And my father hated ponies. He thought that cleaning the stable would halt my requests. In the end, I got a pony. And I loved the little beast, though my father hated it, and it hated him in return." She chuckled again. "Conkers," said Constance faintly. "Yes," replied the Countess. "I rode him for a couple years after I might have moved up to a riding horse even." She smiled reminiscently. "You used to speak of him every time we went riding when we were younger, Claire," said Constance. "So now you must share your daughter's story." Lady Briarly grinned wickedly. "Oh dear," sighed Constance, "well, it's nothing really dreadful. Only that she was careless after a ride near the beginning of the summer, and one of the grooms was injured in protecting her. Her father assigned her to take over a part of the man's work as punishment while he heals. But she's not in disgrace! At least, not with me..." she trailed off. Lady Briarly smiled and tried to set her friend at ease. "Is that all? I was hoping for some grand adventure," she said with a slightly wistful look. -- In the library, Elizabeth jumped when the door opened and thumped into its stop. Anne laughed, and asked, "Are you scribbling in the margins of that book?" Elizabeth looked up, outraged, "I would never do such a thing to someone else's book!" "Then what has you jumping so guiltily?" Excitedly asking, "Is it a naughty sort of book?" Anne crossed the library quickly and peered over her older sister's shoulder at the open page. She pouted. "Tis only a botanical text. How disappointing. Why did you jump?" Elizabeth's answer was rather flustered, "It was only, that the library was so quiet, the noise of the door startled me." "Oh," replied her sister, already bored. "Well, you must return with me to the dance floor, Mama has been looking for you since supper." Elizabeth frowned slightly, "I didn't really expect to be looked for tonight." "I don't think she realizes that you must feel like you're currently in disgrace," said Anne offhandedly. "Come, what if I miss a dance someone would have asked me to while fetching you." Elizabeth laughed lightly and gave in, Anne grabbed her arm and practically dragged her back out into the noise of Lady Briarly's summer dance and supper party.
