As the Marquess and I left the dining room in a sort of overly dignified hurry. I began down the corridor the way we had came and he followed me without a word. When we came to the entrance way of the house, I paused for a second and turned to look at him. I inhaled a sudden breath.
“Are we going out to the gardens, Miss?” The Marquess smiled softly.
“Um, yes, yes.” I replied in a daze.
“Well, I’m not expert, I don’t live here, but I would guess that he gardens are out that way.” He gestured towards the open double doors.
“Yes, they are.”
“Well,” he paused “should we go that way then?”
“Yes.”
He took my hand and led me out onto the white stone steps at the front of the house. The evening was alive with the fragrance of jasmine and roses and the soft summer breeze wafted out over the estate and lingered in small corners and behind bird houses. This was truly a beautiful evening. It seemed so unfair that while I was out in the gardens (the place I loved so dearly), Gabriella was back in the colossal house fighting with a brother she hadn’t seen in five years, all because he hadn’t been bothered to visit her from across the White Wood. It was all beginning to make sense to me now; in the first summer Gabriella had been here, she had been thirteen years old and I had been twelve and she used to insist everyday on going out to the edge of the White Wood until we could see the magnificent columns of a huge white mansion and view its expansive grounds and fields. I had never known what that place was until now, that must have been Kingston Grove. Her brother had lived five years within walking distance and had never bothered to come to the gates of Ceasebury Manor to visit a sister he had abandoned.
“Miss, sorry to interrupt your thoughts, but you look troubled.” The Marquess began.
“No, it's fine, thank you actually, I needed my thoughts interrupting.”
“Am I to believe that your thoughts which I have just interrupted were pleasant?”
“I don’t know what you are to believe, Marquess.”
“Well, I don’t know how one so beautiful could be unhappy, particularly not on an evening like this. Also, please don’t call me ‘Marquess’, Valentine will do.” He smiled.
“There is more to life as a woman than being beautiful for me to worry about.” I looked away from him.
“Oh, I know,” he smiled “I know what worries you.” He paused and took a breath “You are worried you won’t get a good match and that by the end of the season you’ll still be trapped in this house.”
“No, on the contrary, I am worried for the match of another. If Gabriella doesn’t marry soon, she won’t get a good match and then she will be trapped here forever.” I shut my eyes, a tear almost falling down my cheek. “Would you mind if we go and sit in the Summer House? I want to be somewhere where they can’t see us from the house.”
“Why? Are you going to take advantage of me, Miss?” He chuckled.
“No, its not that. Its –“ I paused “just follow me.”
I took his hand and we walked down the gardens of brightly coloured roses and passed under blossom archways. The summer house was white and its little dome pointed into the skyline, it was a welcoming sight when other things in the world were so unstable as they were at this moment. I pushed the heavy door open gently and pulled him inside.
“I’m sorry, Valentine, I just needed to be away from the eyes of the people in the manor for a moment. This is where I go when I need to be by myself.” I looked away from him, almost embarrassed at my lack of self-control.
“Don’t be sorry, its so beautiful in here. We should sit in here and let them look for us for hours.” He smiled “Look, I know something is wrong in your life at the moment, what can I do to help you, Miss?”
“Call me Theodosia.”
“Is that what I can do to help, Theodosia?” he smiled again.
“You could marry Gabriella. That would help.”
“I’m sorry but I can’t do that. I couldn’t bare to spend my life with someone so hopelessly stupid. She just seems so naïve and not in the beautiful, delicate way you are.”
“Are you calling me naïve, Valentine?”
“Yes, I am, but it’s a beautiful and delicate naivety, it’s like a willingness of the heart for the world to be not how it is, but how it ought to be if only it were like it is written about in books.” He smiled. I smiled back up him.
Author Notes: In a few chapters, this is going to get a lot more sexual.
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United Kingdom • 21 years old