The Humble Sunshine

Valentin huffed out a chuckle. “You might be right about that,” he said, imagining easily how Lord Abbernath – Abby – could strike excitement even in the dullest of places. Like lightning. 

“Rivers, hills and trees, yes. Some might even be a wonderful background for a dance. Just promise me this, little sister, you will always follow your heart. Don’t be skewed by previous opinions. If ever you feel something weird, trust this feeling and come to me, will you? Especially-… Especially before you make any grand decisions.” Which felt almost fraud to say, seeing how long he had kept his secret from her. So he reached across the table and placed his hand, softly, over hers. “And don’t fault me for wanting the best for you.” 

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Florence smiled softly at her brother. She had always been lucky in her siblings, especially Valentin. He took care of her in ways that their parents couldn’t, and had been there through just about everything. The youngest Talbot nodded. “Of course,” she agreed. “Grand decisions must be made as a family. And to be honest, I’d feel much better about that sort of thing if we discussed it in depth..and perhaps Dinah ought to weigh on on the matter as well.” She’d said as much to the middle Talbot daughter, and it was the truth. No matter what affection she felt for Lord Abbernath, and no matter how far ahead of herself she was getting with such ideas, her family must be consulted. Alastair’s and Valentin’s approval was far too important to her, meant far too much to be risked.

“Oh, trust me, Florence. Our scandal is-…” Nothing compared to the ones following Lord Weston. He didn’t say it. Something held him back. What was it? Hope, perhaps? Hope that Abbernath was perhaps honest, after all? Valentin had scolded him once, hadn’t he? For being too flighty, too dishonest? What if this was him, Abbernath, changing, at last? “Our scandal is basically of the past. We did well this season. Alastair is getting married to the daughter of a Duchess, and you were endorsed by the King himself. You’re fine. You deserve the best of the best, and no one will run their mouth about it.” And if he wasn’t? What if Abbernath was trying to get to Valentin through Florence? No. He couldn’t know they were related, Valentin had been too careful. Hope was the only way. 

And as Florence went on to talk about Abbernath, Valentin was reminded of all the moments at the club that night when he had enjoyed himself. When Abbernath had indeed been kind. Interesting and interested. Genuine. Genuinely kind. And then came that question, and Valentin could no longer harbour his distaste. What was left was only fondness. Fondness for a man who had won Benny’s heart as well, and who was, after all, perhaps respectable after all. His smile softened. “He’s a brilliant dancer.” He picked up a tomato with his fork. “Then what are you waiting for? Invite him over at once! I do long to meet him now.”

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Florence pressed her lips together as she considered Valentin’s assessment. It seemed too good to be true that everything was now in the past, and now all was forgiven. Though perhaps society was fickle enough that she ought not look a gift horse in the mouth and simply enjoy it while it lasted. “Perhaps,” she conceded but that’s all she could give. Did she really deserve best? Perhaps...perhaps not. Still..she could hope for a nicer married life than she used to. 

He nodded. Yes. Yes, it was good to know. How matter how awkward it had been for him to say all this, it was important for Florence to know. Even if, down the line, she realised she did not enjoy sleeping with her husband, or any men, or any one, for that matter, it was important that she knew that, well, that there could be some beauty to it. As shocking as society made it out to be, it wasn’t all bad. After all, in the best of cases, it was love. And what was bad about love?

“On the contrary,” he muttered, and finally sat at the table. “It would be very generous of you to accept him.  I doubt he’s ever met, known, or gotten to befriend anyone as pure and lovely as you.” The idea that Lord Abbernath I Kiss People Without It Meaning Anything Weston could fall for his sister enough to ask the big Question was preposterous.

Or was it?

“Do you like him, Florence? Was he-, was he good to you? He did not try to … seek closeness of any kind when you two were … having fun?” 

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If Florence could wear her hair down, she would be playing with it. The youngest Talbot trailed after Valentin, taking a seat beside him. “You need not spare my feelings, Valentin. I may not understand the complexities of our circumstances, but I am aware that many families would not consider me suitable,” she reminded him quietly. They had the prince’s favor, and that went quite a long ways but it did not clear the Talbot name completely.

Still..it would be wonderful if Lord Abbernath would consider it..consider her. She had to marry eventually, and she could believe that married life with him would be nice.

Florence said to no more to the topic, and Valentin had never felt more relieved. And yet, he felt obliged to at least close it in a friendly manner. “Do you remember a few years back,” ten exactly, “when we were invited to Lord Stuncher’s wedding but the Baron wouldn’t let us because they had gotten a special license? Because usually you’re supposed to plan your wedding for months and be engaged for a while, but they were really pressed to do it quickly, so they got their special license and married within a week of being engaged? Well. The reason for that is because they-, they did do the-… They got into bed with each other before marriage, and she was with child. So they had to hurry. And because that’s a very, very naughty thing to do, the Baron didn’t want our family to attend and be attached with such a reputation.” Valentin too had needed a few years to figure it out, even if his education had come in the same year. “What they tell us, when they tell us, is that men have a far greater urge to be … naughty. So they tell us, when they tell us, that if ever that should be the case, we should at least do our very best to stay away from reputable ladies.” He took a deep breath. “He wouldn’t say it in so many words, but that’s what those ladies of the night are, you know, the one’s we’re always warned about? They’re the not-reputable ladies we’re-… men are supposed to be … naughty with.” He shuddered. Not at the idea of ladies of the night, but at the awful, dehumanising lesson. Where had he been going with this anyway? Oh. Right. “But you know, I heard of a grand Duchess once, she got lords of the night to her bed every night. And-, and-… Well. I have quite a few married lady friends now and they do promise me that it’s not at all awful or shocking or distressing to them.” Yes. That was the point of it all. Because no matter how unjust and flawed the system was, the one thing he did not want for Florence was to be scared of her wedding night. Not if she had the right man. 

Which, honestly, he had no idea if that was or could ever be Lord Abbernath Weston. Nevertheless, Florence talked about him as though he was this perfectly innocent, pure-hearted creature, and Valentin stared at her with a gaping mouth. “I-… Lord Abbernath Weston?” he made sure they were talking about the same man. Then again, the unorthodox activities of what she spoke of did sound like it could come only from him. “I don’t know but-, But Florence. If he does, you don’t think he’ll do it with a Question, do you?” He meant to make it sound curious and excited, instead he sounded a little appalled. 

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Florence nodded as he spoke of the wedding. Dimly, she recalled thinking it was either very romantic that they wished to wed so quickly, or very stupid. Evidently it might have been both, but she couldn’t tell Valentin that. He didn’t seem to have the same aversion to getting married that she did, but it sounded like perhaps marriage wasn’t all that bad for the man, if there was one involved. Valentin continued with his explanation, and her brows rose at the thought of a lord of the night. The youngest Talbot did not anticipate it being as commonplace as all that, but apparently it was! She hummed for a moment. It was heartening to know that it perhaps wasn’t as bad as she was imagining, but there was no shaking her trepidation fully. Florence nodded. “That is good to know,” she said finally, not entirely sure how much she believed his married lady friends.

Florence frowned. “Of course I mean Lord Abbernath Weston,” she answered. “Goodness, who else?” She shook her head at her brother. Why would Valentin have such a strong reaction to his name? Her lips formed a small ‘oh’ at the shocked mention of a Question... Perhaps Valentin was right..it would be a preposterous idea. Her heart sank a little, plunged back into the reality of her situation. As lovely as her suitors had been, there would be no easy course of action, not really. Lord Abbernath Weston would surely require a bride untainted by scandal. Still, it hurt that the reminder came from Valentin, of all people. “I...I suppose he wouldn’t,” she admitted slowly. Her shoulders dropped a bit, losing some of the prim posture that was trained into her in childhood. “I imagine one of the St. Maur sisters, or the Forrester sisters, would be more to any suitor’s liking,” Florence speculated quietly. “It..it would be quite generous of him, if he were to spare me a moment. Of course it’s all moot anyway..he spends most of his time in London. St. Maur would be awfully dull for him.”

“That’s true…” Valentin admitted. He’d never quite thought about it like that. He supposed if the woman’s part was completely insignificant about blood line, then any gentleman could just marry a baker’s daughter though. So there was something about keeping the family alive, wasn’t there? He didn’t feel sure enough about it to argue, though.

“I suppose-…” he tried to explain about what Florence had indeed made quite clear was a flawed way of doing things – things which really were difficult to explain, “I suppose, they don’t want to shock young ladies. And-, and anyway. If the men know, well, there’s not much of a point for the ladies to know, is there? After all, when time comes for them to-, to-, to-… You know. For them to do it, the knowing husband would be there to explain it.” He really didn’t want to sit down for lunch right now, so he busied himself with putting on the kettle. “Or rather, show it. You know. On the wedding night? At least that’s the way I-, they explained it to us. Though, a friend of mine he-, he said that his mother knew, and his sister, too. Because they were told by their respective mothers on the wedding day. I suppose that works, right?” He scrunched up his nose, and a little more certain than previously, he added: “Not that I think it’s sensible! I do … agree. It’s quite … flawed.” 

Maybe it was that new-found certainty, maybe it was the fact that he was finally getting out of his own head, but he could look at Florence as she continued to protest now, and despite himself, a tiny smile suddenly appeared on his lips. “Like chicken.” 

Valentin jolted when he heard the name Abbernath. Him again! “How do you know Lord Abbernath?!” he spluttered, suddenly absolutely convinced that the mysterious educator at the Debutante Ball was Abbernath himself. Who else! Of course it would be him! “And why would you not be distressed around him!” Out of all people. 

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Florence pressed her lips together but did not disagree with Valentin, though she quite wanted to. Why should the men get to know everything? Why should women have to resort to relying on a husband for yet another thing? The notion that she would have found out on her wedding day was utterly preposterous! She would have had to walk down the aisle, all those eyes looking at her, with the newfound knowledge that she would be expected to undress in front of her husband? Surely Florence would have fainted with all that pressure. She smiled when he agreed with her, and if nothing else, she would have a much better understanding of what marriage would entail before the wedding was even planned. His comment had her grinning and nodding.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. It was happening. He had to say it, didn’t he? Cutlery clinking as he fumbled with it nervously, he said: “Yes, but-, Well. The duty of their is procr-… I mean.”  Florence’s directness didn’t help. It made anything he said like a fumbling, stumbling fool. “The duty of your family is to keep the blood-line alive, is it not? Carry on your name? The title? And-, Well. That’s why you get married. To have children.” Oh good Lord, please don’t have her ask how one is connected to the other now, please!  Luckily the next thing she complained about, Valentin felt a little less awkward about. Mostly because he had also always found this quite odd. “That’s quite true,” he therefore said, still sounding rather nervous with his airy, quiet voice, but at least he had stopped fidgeting. “I think that’s why that rule exists. They think that if you were permitted to just spend time with men alone, you would-…” Argh! No! “Well, this rule mostly applies to our class. In the working classes, men and women are allowed to spend as much time together as they want. But that’s also the reason why so many children are born out of wedlock, you see?” Yes! Good! “Our class is very scared that this would happen, so they just make sure young ladies don’t get to interact with young men, ever. Not before they’re in wedlock and allowed to … undress and … have … children.” Terrible landing, but not too bad overall.

To the last question, he had no answer. Finding the courage to look at her between setting the table, he did so with a little frown. “Would it be distressing to you to be alone with a man now?” he asked. “If-… Oh, I don’t know. If Zachariah came in now, and I were to leave for half an hour to get us more butter from the shops. Would that distress you?”  “But-, But, yes, I suppose. Once you are married, the rules change. That’s what fidelity is all about. Once you are married, you promise before God that you won’t ever … undress … with another man. If you do, that’s unfaithfulness and cheating. So-…” Well. He couldn’t go into detail about how common he had learnt adultery to be, so instead he took another path: “So I think that’s why it’s okay for men and women to be alone together once married, because they no longer want to. I suppose-, I suppose for a man, all other women become like sisters to him, once he has a wife.” Very idealistic, but he refused to be more realistic about this. 

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“I suppose for the gentleman, but my name wouldn’t be given to my children, and I wouldn’t have a title to bestow either,” Florence pointed out, far more concerned with the faulty logic than anything else. Pandora’s box was, unfortunately, quite open. Still, her fair brows drew together as she followed his explanation. “It seems terribly flawed, then, that young ladies are not informed of these things sooner. Imagine, if this wasn’t imparted upon me on me debut, I would have no idea what was to follow the wedding. Assuming of course, I was proposed to,” Florence chattered along, unaware of how little Valentin cared for the conversation.

“And having children! Did you know that being with child meant actually being with child! And it involves eggs..somehow. Thoroughly astonishing, if you ask me,” Florence added, shaking her head. What eggs had to do with children she didn’t know, but that lovely fellow had mentioned them. Valentin’s question had her humming in thought. “No, I think i would be quite alright with Zachariah,” she murmured. Zachariah had no interest in causing her harm. “However if a suitor from London showed up on our doorstep while I was alone at Tynthesfield, I think I would be quite distressed. Except perhaps Lord Abbernath,” Florence continued, thinking on their whimsical conversation. No, Lord Abbernath would not cause her harm either, the youngest Talbot was quite certain.

The evening sky opened up above them as they stepped out into the garden, and Florence let slip her small shy confession. The way she spoke it was almost too endearing for Abbernath to bear. This was not someone boasting of their magnificent country seat, or someone condemning London society. She was just a girl, a little homesick.

And then there was a flood of words that stirred up a thousand curiosities on him. He wanted to ask a question after each word, but the endless etiquette lessons he’d been subjected to meant he was incapable of interrupting. At least while he was still trying to impress her. “You help in the kitchen?” It was said with a kind of awe. He knew the Talbots had fallen on hard times, but he hadn’t yet learned how they were coping with it. Most people tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, that was the impression Alastair had given. But here was Florence, eager to get back to the simple joys of simple tasks. “And draw?” He was beaming just at the image of her sketching away in a sunny country garden.

“No no, not unexciting at all. Sometimes I wish I had somewhere to miss. We reside nearly always in London, and I enjoy it, I do. But sometimes it feels like there is somewhere else I’m longing for, only, there isn’t anywhere. Or if there is I haven’t found it yet.” He smiled a little bittersweet smile. “Perhaps it’s the place where all the marvellous trees are growing.”

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The party seemed to be very far away as they ventured beneath the stars.  Florence looked around with interest, wanting to memorize how lovely everything was. Perhaps she could make a drawing of this garden, a bit of a keepsake to remind her of the evening. “Yes, though I know it is rather unfashionable,” she assured him. His reaction was far kinder than any she would have anticipated, but like the rest of their interactions leading up to this moment, it went a long way to soothing her skittishness. “I’ve improved since I started, though I fear I’ve a long way to go.” He was quite a marvel, wasn’t he? Even her brothers seemed as though they might flinch at the reminder that she tried to cook. “And yes! Watercolor is far more fetching, but there is something so satisfying about charcoal on paper,” Florence continued, her blue eyes sparkling behind her mask. “Do you draw as well?”

The salad was put into a bowl and Valentin had just turned, putting it all on the table, when Florence said something, very quietly. “What was that?” he asked, still feeling so very light and easy now, and every bit of it was reflected in his voice. Thus, at first, when she went on, Valentin felt flattered that she was still thinking of husbands. He had never dared to think that far, but the idea of Benny one day being like a husband to him made him almost giddy.

“Did you now?” he asked. Only then did a quiet frown appear on his face again, as he turned back to the get the cutlery and saw Florence’s expression. She went on some more, he caught on about what she was speaking off, and a moment later he was almost embarrassed to be looking at her. Hastily, he busied himself with the cutlery. Unfortunately there was only the two of them, so the two forks and two knives were plucked out from the drawer rather quickly and so Valentin just stood there, awkwardly, with nothing left to do. “Well…”

He pretended to polish one of the forks a bit. “Yes. I mean-…” What a shame that Mrs Lancashure kept her cutlery so clean. “I suppose-… Well, I suppose that it might actually be … considered … the reason why some people get married in the first place.” Something in the back of his mind wanted him to ask: How did you think babies are made? But the mere idea of getting into even more detail with his sister about this… “Why-… Well, why did you find it so shocking?” A thoroughly stupid question! But too late. It was out.

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“The reason people get married?” Florence echoed, confusion furrowing her brow. “Do..do we not marry because we are supposed to? Is it not one’s duty to their family?” Of course, some married for love. But to tie one to another person, for the sole purpose of..whatever happened after clothes were removed seemed..poorly thought out, if she were honest. “So this is common knowledge, then. Well it certainly was not common to me.”  Valentin’s question had her tilting her head once more. “Goodness Valentin, I’m not to be alone with a man unless we’re related or married,” she reminded her brother. “Do you not think it is asking quite a lot to go from never being alone with a man to being undressed around one? Even if it is a husband..it is not as though I would be permitted time alone with a fiance. Would I?” now the questions came tumbling forth, her genuine curiosity more than enough to allow her to forget how scandalous the topic at hand was.

♣ ♣ ♣

Zahir stood composed, but there were these subtle movements that betrayed his feelings. Like how pleased he was to hear her declare him to be in the right twice in a row. It was hard to stay modest, even more so because it was a talent he had never quite possessed.

At the same time, her words landed a little closer to his own worries and his own insecurities. He was the firstborn. It had been his dream all of his life to work in service and one day become a butler, yet it was his younger brother who had risen to the position of First Footman before him. So, in truth, Zahir understood the feeling of hating to accept that he could not be the teacher, the leader, the one to show his brother the right path. And now he was caught in a dilemma…

Only hypocrisy would get it him out of it.

“I hardly think that is rude,” he replied, shaking his head, his voice taking on a softer note as he was allowed this one sincere thought. “My advice is…”

He should lie and pretend he did not know the feeling she spoke of, that there had yet to be a challenge he could not undertake. “It’s…”

Zahir looked at her. She did not know who was hiding behind the mask. Sweet, intelligent, caring, he only knew these things about her from the few words they had spoken to one another.

“Ah, I fear.. I am not quite sure how to do that,” he admitted, defeated by realisation that not only he could not lie to her, but that he also did not have to. He knew not of her face and name, and she did not know of his. He could be terribly honest, and it would be fine. “I try to focus on what I can do. But most of the time I persist, too stubborn to give up.” Zahir looked at her and sighed. “Do you think that makes me a fool?” he asked, his voice growing even softer.

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She smiled, glad that he hadn’t found her question rude. It was very personal, but perhaps behind their masks, they could be brave with one another. Florence waited patiently, gazing up at her companion as he gathered his thoughts. It was quite a difficult answer, and she had no answer herself. Florence couldn’t know the conflict behind his eyes, the emotions he was feeling. When he voiced that he had no answer, Florence could only nod. “It is a very difficult question,” she assured him, wanting him to know that she didn’t think any less of him for his honesty. Perhaps it was the sort of question that you could only answer for yourself.

This time, Valentin did let out a breath of relief. It was quiet, as was the smile that grew on his lips – despite himself. “Yeah, I-… I do too.” 

He had not considered, not ever, that Benny could turn into someone like their father, and it raised his gaze to Florence with a soft frown between his brows. No. No, yes. He knew what she meant. And perhaps, deep down, he had feared it once too. No. No, yes, this wasn’t at all what he was surprised to find in her words. What really, actually, surprised him, was that Florence simply matched Valentin’s love to a married love. It had his frown disappear, his smile broaden and broaden until a laugh escaped him. He nodded. “He’d like a picnic.”

And when he continued to prepare their lunch now, he felt light and easy. Maybe this wasn’t so difficult after all! Maybe he’d make it just fine. 

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It was nice to see  the little shift in Valentin. Whatever trepidation was there gave way to a smile, and even a laugh. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Florence realized that perhaps she ought to have offered comfort of some kind to her brother, but hopefully he wouldn’t fault her terribly for it. She brightened herself when he deemed her idea worthy. “Excellent, then a picnic we shall have,” she decided with a nod, as though it would be so simple. Perhaps with Valentin and Benny, it would be. She could only hope as much. the topic of their father, mingled with Valentin’s love, had her thinking on her own marital prospects.

He offered her his arm, and walked towards the garden, delighted that she’d taken him up on his offer. Though as they walked, he realised tree climbing was just another flamboyant activity, a grand gesture. A wonderful way to bond, to filter out the fun from the dull, but not the best way to get to know someone. He wanted to see past the mask, past her sparkling eyes even, and see what lay inside.

“Oh yes, there must be at least one good tree. They could hardly call it a garden without one good tree.” They had reached the doors now, leaving the crowds and the music behind them once more. “Though I’m sure not nearly as many marvellous trees as you must have in the country. Do you miss it, the country, when you’re in town? Or are you someone who lives for the season?” It was perhaps the kind of small talk he usually despised, the kind that seemed empty and repetitive and general enough that you could ask it to anyone and get a similar response, and yet, this time, he found himself genuinely wanting to know her answer, to know all the details of her mind.

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Florence was delighted to take his arm, and once again, that curious fellows words bounced around her mind. Lord Abbernath did seem rather strong, though she could hardly believe him to be violent. She giggled at his assessment, very nearly adoring him for it. The golden-haired lady nodded at his question. “There are a good deal more trees at home than London. Oh, but I do miss home,” she confessed shyly. What would he thing of her for it? Surely, that she was terribly dull. Florence pressed on still, hopeful that perhaps he’d forgive her for it.

“Well, my mother always says that in our class, there is no such thing as an unhappy marriage,” he mused. It was a saying typically employed to tell married people to hide their marital issues and put a smile up whenever in society – but Alexander was not quite versed enough in the world of idioms, metaphors and conversational art to be aware of that. He thought happy marriages were simply the norm. “Surely one would be rather silly to marry someone who will not bring happiness, yes?” 

The idea of this dream-forest creature to climb trees did not surprise Alexander much. But he did find himself amused at the thought of a lady doing so. “And what does one read in those trees?” 

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Florence’s smile faded a touch as her companion quoted his mother. “I am afraid that your mother is a touch mistaken,” she corrected him gently. “And marriage isn’t always done of love, dear prince. Marriage is often a duty..and depending on who proposed to me, I might be quite obligated to accept,” Florence explained. Not because Alastair or Valentin would want her to, but because if someone of excellent standing and wealth proposed, she wouldn’t be able to say no. How could she decline lessening the burden on her brothers? No, Florence would do her duty.

Valentin didn’t know what had come over him, when he had said that, and his heart was drumming aches through his chest as he waited with baited breath for her reaction. Or perhaps he knew what had come over him. Knew exactly what it was, all those factors, and it made the heart beats all the more aching. Because at least if it had escaped him despite himself, he might’ve feigned surprise. Might’ve feigned a joke. As it were, he sat there, quiet, unmoving, serious. 

And finally, Florence answered. Answered to the content of his words, and less their semantic surprises. He almost let out a breath of relief. But it was not yet quite over, was it?

“Oh, but you know him,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could. As casual as one would be when talking about someone you loved, regardless of who it was. And with that same tone, a rock tied to his tongue, a galloping horse to his heart, and strong seagulls to his eyes flying up and forcing his gaze up to Florence, he said: “Benny?” As though she didn’t know who it was. As though they hadn’t been best friends since they were capable of memories. “Benny Forester.” 

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♣ ♣ ♣

Zahir was always weak to praise, and so he softened instantly as his mysterious dancing partner declared him admirable. He smiled, and it was a pity his mask hid it for it was quite a sight to behold. Yet, maybe one could perceive it in his eyes, in the little smiling lines around them and in the way they held onto her gaze. “Thank you. Though, I wish it was not so, then it would simply be the most common way of thinking,” he said, his gratitude genuine, his wish a little less so, as he still preferred to be considered above others.

“It is not,” he agreed, with a nod, “but that, in and of itself, is also a challenge. Do you not think so?” He found himself curious to know her opinion on this. Right now, it was easy to speak thus despite the fact that he had failed this particular challenge time and time again, and he had refused to acknowledge it. “To be ready to accept such a hard truth might be the hardest of challenges, indeed.”

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Florence laughed, thinking that he was surely joking. Why would anyone want understanding to be uncommon? His comment had her tilting her head for a moment. “No..I think you are quite right, in that ,” Florence murmured, thinking on it. She hadn’t considered it that way, but perhaps that would make it easier to deal with in the future.

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah giggled because, indeed, she could easily picture the dramatic moment that Florence was suggesting: the nervous grooms, the annoyed brides, all as they waited for Dinah while the guests was starting to get bored, and then.. the open door of the church, light flooding in and Dinah with it.

“Oh! A series would be so lovely, indeed!” she exclaimed in agreement. “It would feel like an endless party, yet we would each have our own moment.” Her smiled softened at the idea. It was less about this specific picture and more about the idea that all of it could only be possible if their friendships were not only alive but also thriving. “I think a man who values you will gladly wait for your answer,” she said, though she understood in a way that it was not always simply pride that would push a man to feel slighted at seeing their question unanswered right away. “But ideally, I believe a man should at least believe you to have some affection for him.. or at least an interest in marrying him before proposing. But then, there are always exceptions…” Yes, or she would have to believe she had given Alfie Felton some kind of signal that she had been interested in him when it was definitely not the case. “Men who are foolish, or too cocky. So, yes, of course, I will gladly give counsel. And I don’t doubt Bernie and Cynthia would do too,” she said, with a confident nod. It was important to have at least this kind of solidarity between ladies.

“Nor do I,” she agreed, since even with her romantic vein she had always imagined her family and friends at her wedding. Still, if she had really no other choice… She had no time to dwell on that thought and see where it would lead her, instead she focused all her attention on Florence. “Do not underestimate yourself, Florence! I am sure you have much to teach anyone, let alone a gentleman,” she said, with even more confidence than before. There was no doubt in her voice, and it did not sound like an empty pleasantry. Dinah firmly believed there was much that Florence could teach someone, as she herself had learned from her. “I do not think I would have been ready to learn from someone else and challenge myself if not for you,” she admitted, with a fond smile. “And it is delightful!” she nodded. “Though I would say sometimes it can be darling and daunting at the same time, but then it’s part of its charm.. stepping out of our comfort spaces,” she said, speaking from experience. And she was still learning, she had only just taken the first step. “Don’t you believe you are already doing something like that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

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Florence let out a thoughtful hum at Dinah’s words, not quite sure how she could tell her that the idea of a man who valued her was odd. Her father didn’t seem to value her mother, after all. Valentin and Alastair were good brothers, but she knew them in a way that was impossible to get to know the gentlemen who would court her. And of course, they were her brothers. They saw protecting her and taking care of her as their responsibility. Could a husband be trusted to do the same?

It was hardly a question she could pose to Dinah, especially in such a lovely setting.

Gratitude shone in Florence’s blue eyes as she beamed at her friend. The youngest Talbot would never give herself the credit Dinah seemed to grace her so easily. “I’m so happy for you,” Florence told her friend softly. So many of the people around her deserved such delight and happiness, and Florence hoped for all the world that they would. “Though I don’t think I had as much a hand in things as you think,” she disagreed with a smile. “You’re far too kind to me, Dinah.” At Dinah’s question, Florence tilted her head at the thought. “Certainly, I’m stepping out of my comfort spaces. I knew I’d debut one day..it just always seemed so very far away. Even when I returned from France and Alastair asked me about it..I was rather surprised that he’d still want me to debut,” she explained sheepishly. It was foolish of her, naturally. There was no benefit to the family if she remained in childhood, and in fairness things were certainly less complicated now. “It’s horridly naive, but I never really thought about life outside of St. Maur. And selfishly, I’ve been happy. Having Alastair and Valentin in one place again..all we’re missing is our sister.” The baron was markedly absent, though that couldn’t be surprising.  

♣ ♣ ♣

Dinah blushed under her mask. It wasn’t every day that a wonderful young woman called her a genius. “Oh, well, I-I am very happy that you love the i-idea,” she said, shyly, but also very pleased to have Florence’s approval and support of her idea. Their idea. Hers and Benny’s and Florence’s. “It was a group effort. You’ll see what I mean when we will have our first picnic,” she added, looking forward to show her the kites she had built with Benny’s, even if the dragon she had painted on one looked more like a potato. “But now I want to see you dance. I think that gentleman wants to ask you,” she said, eyeing a man dressed in a Greek-inspired outfit.

.

“Florence,” he repeated as if clicking a missing puzzle piece into place and basking in the satisfaction of finding it fit perfectly. The Talbot part was more of a surprise, but if anything it only enticed him more. He knew Alastair a little, but he’d always found him exceptionally boring and stiff. The idea that these two could be related so closely was absurd. Though he didn’t know why she’d lie. She seemed the inherently honest type, and besides, there were hardly people lining up right now to tie themselves to the Talbot name.

“Abbernath Weston,” He replied, with a smile. He usually would not give out his full name, he preferred Abby, but the intention here was not only to let her know his name, but his station too. The truth was he would have remained just as enamoured by her tonight if she’d turned out to be a scullery maid, but to hear she was a peer opened the door to possibilities he could only begin to peek at.

“Would you like to go find a tree?” He asked. Though they were a little above the hubbub here on the stairs, he suddenly felt the openness of the night sky above them would be much more fitting.

.

Abbernath Weston..the name echoed in her mind. It was familiar..perhaps it was Alastair? Yes..Alastair had told her something of Lord Abbernath Weston, but Florence couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was. It was lucky to meet someone of his station, especially with all their talk of sliding down banisters and swings. Perhaps they could continue their acquaintanceship beyond this evening..though if it meant Lord Weston coming to Tynthesfield it would be best to enjoy their conversation while it lasted.