‘But you aren’t going to see it,are you, Aurelia?’ Ursula asked in a hushed tone. ‘Particularly ifgentlemenmay be in attendance,’ she added, her eyes as round as the porcelain teacup she was holding.
‘Oh Ursula, do you really think a flood of gentlemen will be rushing to see pinned French drawers when they can see real ones at the Opera House?’ Aurelia exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
‘Hush, Aurelia!’ Isabella muttered. ‘Mama says only wicked girls talk like that!’
‘Well I must be quite wicked then,’ Aurelia replied with a glint, ‘for I believe we are quite safe at an exhibition of ladies’ fashion.’
‘I am in agreement for once, though I suppose it may attract gentleman of a certain character,’ Sophie observed drily.
‘True,’ Aurelia said, selecting a grape from a dish on the table and popping it into her mouth. ‘Though they are usually the most diverting– and, as they say, while a libertine is a scoundrel, there is always a chance of redemption with a rake.’
‘Aurelia!’ Isabella challenged in an aghast tone, glancing at the nearby gentlemen.
‘We aren’t supposed to talk of such things. Mama will never let us hold a garden party again.’
‘La, is that all you simpletons think about?’ Aurelia scoffed, selecting another grape, and starting to peel it in the most fastidious fashion. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit interested in knowing our potential husbands a little better?’
‘You are certainly making us sound quite villainous, Lady Aurelia,’ the steady voice interjected again, ‘and while I can’t vouch for all, some of us happen to be quite civilised.’
They all looked up at Sir Weston’s approaching figure, and Sophie couldn’t help but smile. His coat wasn’t by the most fashionable tailor, his cravat couldn’t be tied in a less dashing style and his hair, while smart, lacked the more fashionable waves of his contemporaries. But there was a dependable elegance about his person, and when he spoke, he radiated the kind of quiet authority that made everyone listen.
‘Oh, your very proper self excluded of course, Sir Weston,’ Aurelia replied. ‘I can’t imagine you being the least bit scandalous, whatever the occasion!’
Lady Aurelia then proceeded to smile archly across the Hampton’s best table linen while Sophie felt an inexplicable rise of annoyance.
‘Looks can be deceptive,’ Sir Weston returned politely, ‘but I for one believe that most ladies would far rather marry a gentlemanwithstandards, than a nobleman without.’
At this all the young ladies gushed their heartfelt agreement, while Aurelia rolled her eyes and Sophie took a large gulp of Isabella’s terrible tea.
‘Dear me,’ Aurelia said as Sophie coughed into her pretty lace kerchief, ‘anyone would think we were at one of your country bumpkin parties. Don’t they teach you anything in the wilds of Devon?’ She sighed, delicately covering the smallest of yawns. ‘And all this chitter-chatter has made me yearn for something more than archery and tea. How about a turn around your delightful maze, Isabella. I hear there is lovely folly at its centre?’
The bewildered Isabella cast a swift appeal around her select party: Lady Harriet Wakeley, the Farrington twins, Lady Aurelia, Miss Sophie Fairfax, Lord Endercott, simpering Lord Riley, Sir Weston and Ursula.
Her mother had sanctioned an archery party, not a garden jaunt in the maze, but she was also aware it was quite rude to deny her guests anything she could reasonably provide– which left her in rather a quandary.
‘Perhaps a short turn then, just to refresh ourselves?’ she ventured doubtfully.
‘Bravo! What a wonderful idea!’ Aurelia exclaimed, already rising. ‘Did everyone hear our delightful hostess? Isabella has proposed a new game: a race to the centre of the maze, and the last one to reach the folly must pay the winner’s forfeit! We are six ladies though, so you gentlemen had better be on your mettle!’ she smirked, snatching up the last ginger thin and starting towards Lord Hampton’s pride and joy.
‘But Aurelia, wait!’ Isabella called in bewilderment, jumping to her feet. ‘Ought we not to finish our tea first?’
‘Tea?’ Lord Riley simpered. ‘I’ll take a race and forfeits over tea any day.’ Then he started after Aurelia, who was already a considerable way down the rolling lawn.
Sophie shot Sir Weston a glance and wondered briefly, if he’d ever played any game in his life. Yet the tea party appeared to be at an end, Phoebe had abandoned her for the continent, Aunt Higglestone was distracted by parlour curtains, and much as she didn’t want to take part in any of Aurelia’s games, she had even less desire to be left alone.
She lowered her offensive cup of tea.
‘Well, I can’t murder anyone anyway,’ she sighed, wondering if she shouldn’t have just taken Matilda to the patisserie instead.
* * *
Sophie knew she should have taken Matilda to the patisserie instead.
Not only was she quite lost, but she’d been enduring the whoops of victorious players for some time now, while she'd seen nothing but yards of yew.
‘Which only goes to prove that spontaneous games around any maze are rarely as refreshing as they sound,’ she scowled, pushing an errant ringlet out of her face.
Briefly, she paused to look up and down the stubborn green corridor, which looked exactly like the one before. She’d already considered scaling the hedge before deciding she’d rather be lost, than risk her frilled sleeves and ivory gloves to an invasion of prickles.
