The three eldest Ostenby sisters prepared themselves for company in Georgiana's room, as its west-facing windows were perfectly positioned to catch the setting sun. Anne and Georgiana sat cross-legged on the bed, as the former begrudgingly allowed her sister to arrange her hair. From her seat at the vanity, Charlotte silently watched the entire process with undisguised amusement, without turning away to hide her smiles.

"Hold as still as you can," Georgiana instructed, impatiently affixing a pin to a carefully braided lock as Anne pulled away like a shy horse. Georgiana clucked her tongue. "I'm beginning to see why this is a rarity: neither you nor I have the patience."

Anne obediently stilled her body, breathing in deeply. The last pin fit smoothly, constraining the braids in an elaborate pile at the back of her neck. She peeked around Charlotte's shoulders to catch a glimpse of her reflection, strange and beautiful sight that it was. "You have done wonders for me, Georgie."

"If you're determined to make the most of my skill, you'll arrive earlier next time, on the eve of Lucy's party. She won't be the only belle of the evening."

"You'll have her scarcely recognizable!" Charlotte laughed. "What could have brought this on, you two?"

Rather than replying, Anne rose to look out the window.

With no answer of her own, Georgiana merely shrugged as Charlotte made a face at her in the mirror. Neither had any reason to account for the change in Anne's behavior. Then again, neither sister was ever accustomed to finding a satisfactory motive in many of Anne's actions and manners.

Soft footsteps raced down the hall and Lucy came to a skidding stop at the bedroom door, still in stocking feet. "Mamma says they will come in a very fine carriage! I thought I would change into my nicest shoes - only, I can't find them."

"If it means so much to you, I'd gladly loan you my pair." Georgiana held them out, and Lucy grabbed them instantly and dashed back to her room.

Charlotte rose from her seat. "I suppose it's time, then."

"We shall face them together." Anne playfully linked arms with Georgiana.

"Face them!" Georgiana laughed. "I thought you liked them."

"I do." Anne replied. "It's Mamma's dinners that I cannot abide."

---

Meanwhile at Chesterfield, the gentlemen were preparing to go out, anxiously attending to the final touches of their ensembles, examining their reflections in the hallway mirror. 

"Denton, you look so formal!" Lord Ashenby teased. "You must loosen your tie and wear your hat askew, or you will outdo all the rest of us." Immediately regretting his choice of words, Ashenby grabbed Denton's arm as the youth made to follow his advice. "No, no," the lord said, "I did not mean to criticize. You must come along or we'll be late. Country dinners are early."

"I would hate to be overdressed." Denton murmured. "I do not want to come across as though I think myself above my company."

Ashenby scoffed. "Nonsense. The widow likes you, and she likes me too. Moreover, she needs one of us to like one of her daughters, and neglecting this duty is the only way in which we could offend her." He turned towards Harding with a smile. "What do you think, Wil? Fancy helping us in our duty? Blink and you shall be married."

Harding colored a bit, straightening his coat. "I think I'd better meet the ladies in question first," he mumbled.

Denton had to fight the urge to elbow him; fortunately, Mary was too busy talking with her sister to have overhead. Casually, they wondered why Ashenby seemed so obtuse: was he truly unaware of William's inclination towards his eldest cousin? It appeared to be so. The lord could, on occasion, find himself utterly consumed in the happenings of his own life, his mind entirely occupied in navigating a moment-to-moment path of novelty and gaiety. All to say, Ashenby's pride could be his folly, and Denton was not wholly ignorant of this flaw of character in their host - however fond they were of him.

"How do I look, cousin?" Victoria broke into their little circle, playing with the lace trim of her gown.

"Lovely," was the lord's reply.

She smiled. "Now, William, you must compliment my sister! And Mr. Denton, you must praise both of us."

"I can tell that great care went into your appearance, and you look very becoming," Denton replied diplomatically, looking to Harding, who appeared to be rooted to the spot.

Ashenby laughed out loud, clapping them on the shoulder.

Victoria hid a giggle behind her hand, but she recovered herself shortly. "Pooh, hardly great praise, but I will forgive you. Wil, you must do better." She gestured towards her sister.

Mary did indeed look very pretty. She wore white well, her hair bound with a ribbon the same color as the afternoon sky. And yet, she wilted under the attention, staring resolutely at the floor. So too did Harding, but he managed to say at last: "You look beautiful, like all the delights of summer."

"Thank you." Mary replied softly.

"Masterfully done. And now, we must go or we really will be late." Ashenby ushered his company out the door and into the waiting carriage.

---

When Lord Ashenby's party arrived at Lofton Hall, they were directed to the drawing room at once. The doors were opened, they were announced, and the room and its occupants were revealed in all of their splendor. Mrs. Ostenby rose and curtsied deeply, once more introducing her son and daughters. Ashenby eagerly presented his cousins, and Harding was reintroduced to the family, as it became clear the passing acquaintance had faded a number of years ago.

Denton surmised that the eldest Mr. Harding was older than Mrs. Ostenby's children, perhaps by as much as a decade. Rumors of his character and disposition must have given the widow some cause for alarm, and she accordingly distanced herself from the Hardings for the sake of her daughters. Truthfully, in dropping the connection, she may have sought to preserve the good disposition of her son as much as to shield any of his sisters, which Denton considered a prescient move. 

As the party paid their hostess her dues, Mrs. Ostenby gave the gentlemen and ladies quiet direction as to who their dinner partner would be. Denton discovered they were to escort Georgiana, and it was with some effort that they sat themself by her side and entered into conversation with her. Her manners were pleasant but not easy to read, and they often found they were at a loss as to what subjects beyond music might interest her. 

Fortunately, Anne sat herself nearby, and always seemed to supply some energy when their rapport with her sister lagged. Denton looked on her with a grateful eye, and they had never seen anybody prettier. Her wit was irrepressible, the animation in her mannerisms catching. 

"Mr. Denton," Georgiana called back their attention, "would you like to join me for a duet?"

The idea caught them off-guard, and they found it difficult to believe that she truly desired the proximity her suggestion would necessitate. "I'm afraid I'd scarcely do you justice, Miss Georgiana," they stammered, "however, if you insist."

"Please," she waved her hand. "I do not insist. I have no wish to show myself off or coerce our guests, and I will not strain you on my account."

Denton gave a short bow, pleased that they had read her rightly in this at least, and that they could gratify both their own feelings and hers. 

Harding interjected from his seat by Anne, "Denton played very well the other afternoon, Miss Georgiana. If he lauds your praises, I admit that I am much intrigued to hear you play."

Georgiana hesitated, looking first to Denton and then her mamma, but she rose and made her way over to the instrument after gathering it would cause no offense.

"She'll need someone to turn the page," Harding smiled gently at Denton, urging them forward.

For their part, Denton wished that Harding was not quite so eager to help them. They could not rush their pace as easily as men could, it seemed. They must have time to know their company before any inclination arose, and from their inclination it was still a much further step to love. Denton's intellectual reserve kept their affections very much in check, and to confess it, they did not mind this trait within themself.

"No, no," came Georgiana's voice from the piano, as if she anticipated the direction of Denton's thoughts, "don't trouble yourself. I have already gotten Lucy to do it."

So it was that Lucy was dutifully stationed by her sister's side already. She whispered something to Georgiana that caused her to smile. Accordingly, Georgiana selected a piece and began to play, and Lucy let out a small sigh as if content with the entire world. 

Denton nodded towards Lucy and remarked to Anne, "She does seem to be the happiest girl."

Anne smiled sincerely. "I think she takes after Charlotte. They both have a natural disposition to be well-pleased with their circumstances, and their energy is such that they will always make their own happiness. I confess I admire their strength of character."

"Do you think you lack the disposition to be happy?" Denton inquired seriously.

She thought it over. "No," she settled on, "I do not think the fault is with my disposition. Perhaps it lies in my expectations." Here she turned slyly to her dinner partner and said, "Mr. Harding, what do you propose I am to do with my life? I am far more grown than any of my sisters - save for Charlotte, whose future is already secured."

Harding appeared at a loss for words, his expression betraying some anxiety at the thought of having dinner with such a peculiar conversation partner. His eyes flicked briefly towards Georgiana: for all of her blank smiles and accommodating disposition, she would at least be easy to talk to, even if she were mute when it came to expressing her own opinions and desires. Anne had a rather large quantity of both.

Happily, Harding was saved the trouble of a reply by Victoria calling out from across the room. "Mr. Harding! Mr. Denton!" she cried. "I cannot convince my cousin that we must host a ball within a fortnight. Rumors about us will flow like water if we hide away and leave the neighborhood to speculate. I know country ways."

"Miss Victoria," Mrs. Ostenby interjected in the same playful tone, "you forget that my opinion carries no small weight in these parts. I will vouch for you. You and your sister are the very picture of loveliness and graciousness, and that is precisely what I will tell anyone who would ask me."

Victoria bowed her head. "Our reputation is in your hands, Mrs. Ostenby. I confess I am glad of it, for I feel you are upright and honest."

Denton smiled to themself. It appeared Ashenby was not the only member of the family with a talent for flattery, although Victoria applied hers with an endearing irreverence. One knew instantly what she was about, and yet could not help being charmed anyway.

Mrs. Ostenby shook her head fondly. "You silly girl, you seek to please me - I have found you out. But by virtue of being a cousin to Lord Ashenby, you cannot help but have a secure seat in the neighborhood. And you are always welcome in my home. You needn't make yourself uneasy."

Although she smiled, Victoria's ears were red. Her hands found each other and laced together at her waist, where she twiddled her fingers uneasily. "I'm much indebted to you, madam, for your kindness." She spoke with her eyes cast to the floor.

Denton couldn't help but note such an odd change in demeanor. She had been so bold when capering to earn the widow's favor, but once it was bestowed most willingly, she seemed embarrassed. What could it mean? Surely Victoria was well-positioned to earn Mrs. Ostenby's favor; in truth, she hardly needed it.

"I'm afraid that my little cousin has picked up some of my tricks!" Ashenby joined the conversation with a laugh. "But my dear Victoria, you are too sincere in manner and address to play the part of a sycophant convincingly."

"Hush, cousin!" Mary shook her head firmly at him, a smile put on for the company but her eyes betraying real alarm. "You will give them quite a notion of yourself and your relations!"

"Please," Edward Ostenby interjected, anxious to set the ladies at ease, "we know Lord Ashenby too well to take him at his word. Or to doubt his respectability." The latter part he directed at the lord.

Denton watched as Mary took a seat by her sister, deftly giving her hand a squeeze. They saw that Harding also observed the gesture, and they shot a questioning glance his way, but he was too deep in thought to notice his young friend.

For his part, Ashenby looked contrite. "I have allowed my rambunctious nature to carry my manners away. I have done a disservice to this dinner you have so graciously put on, Mrs. Ostenby. Forgive me, I meant no disgrace to my lovely cousins."

"Men always go too far in their teasing," Mrs. Ostenby remarked, "but you have satisfied me with your apology. Now it is up to the young ladies to decide what to do with you."

Georgiana finished the last strains of her piece, but waited for a cue to begin another. Silence hung in the air, as thick as the last chords of the concerto. Although they hadn't the slightest idea what to say, Denton opened their mouth in an effort to find something that would be useful in starting the conversation in another direction. 

Happily, Anne had the same idea; unhappily, her choice of subject was not one with the desired effect of easing tensions in the room. "Mr. Harding, I understand your brother arrives tomorrow?" she asked.

Harding stiffened, but obediently donned the mask of a smile. "He does indeed, Miss Anne. I'm sure he is quite sorry to miss this occasion but it cannot be helped."

Quietly, Georgiana resumed her playing, this time a softer, more melodic piece. Denton marveled at her mastery of not only the instrument but the very mood that she diffused through the room. Charlotte Ostenby too, it seemed, was making a concerted effort to lighten the conversation. She engaged Mary on the subject of books, and encouraged Victoria to chime in. Perhaps, after years of pacifying their mamma, the Ostenby sisters had made an art of it.

All except Anne, Denton thought with a small rueful smile.

---

The course of conversation remained smooth, and soon it was time for dinner. Given the scant number of gentlemen, the pairings were perhaps unorthodox, but Denton found themself seated between Georgiana and Victoria, directly across from Edward Ostenby and Anne. This arrangement set them happily at ease. They noted unhappily that Harding was settled as far from Mary as possible, for he was to escort Anne, and Denton doubted that either side would find satisfaction in the arrangement. The gulf of personality was simply too wide to be easily overcome in a single dinner.

"Mr. Denton," Georgiana inquired politely as they served her, "where does your family reside?"

This line of questioning caused Denton to balk somewhat, but they kept their composure as best they could. How were they to answer her satisfactorily without giving cause to ask more about their history or family situation?

Sensing his friend's discomfort, Ashenby deftly inserted himself into their conversation from Georgiana's other side. "I believe your family has been acquainted with Sir Eccleston?" he asked.

She nodded. "He and I met once very briefly, although the assembly was large and he had many friends in attendance."

"He is my late father's cousin," Denton haltingly joined in the conversation, "and I have been under his guardianship these five years."

"Five years!" Victoria exclaimed, subduing herself when she realized she had given away that she was listening in. She smiled sympathetically. "It has been five years since my father's passing as well. For Mary and I, the loss is still very great."

Pity softened Denton's heart, followed by a sharp pang of guilt to have wrung such a speech from her with their tale. A beat of silence stretched on as they attempted to formulate a reply that did not ring hollow.

Georgiana moved so that she held Victoria in her sightline, her expression softened by real understanding. "No matter how much time passes, it is never easy," she said quietly, before emotion overcame her.

"We seem to have a misfortune in common." Anne leaned in forward from her seat across the table, taking the attention from her sister as Georgiana regained composure.

Although Anne's tone was dry, her face betrayed her emotion, the first trace of pain or regret that Denton had ever seen in her features. They wished they might know more, or do more for their companions. Mute in sympathy, they almost reached for the ladies' hands before they remembered themself. Such a gesture could only be permissible between women. 

They looked up and saw that Anne was smiling at them, one brow arched, as if she had correctly interpreted the twitch of their hand.

Anne had, and she found with surprise that she was irked by the gesture, the familiarity it betrayed not only with her sister, but Victoria Ashenby. As a means of distracting herself, she crafted a response and levied it at Denton. "It is easier for men to cope with the death of a father, I think, for in discharging the duties of his household, you have action, and ultimately, peace."

"Perhaps it is so, Miss Anne," Ashenby rejoined, "but I should not wish to own it if it were. I would rather consider myself to be, if nothing else, greatly inconvenienced by the loss."

Anne started, coloring slightly. "Forgive me, my lord. I forgot myself, and that we had one to whom such a loss is so recent."

Ashenby smiled, and the spirit of forgiveness was in his look. "Our grief is different. One suffering does not eclipse the other. But come, let us talk of happier things."

"Miss Georgiana," Harding betrayed some eagerness to set the conversation back on firmer ground, "I have been waiting for an opportunity to compliment you on your playing. It's truly exquisite."

Mrs. Ostenby smiled from her seat at the head of the table, content with the promise of the conversation turning to her most eligible daughter's musical talent. "She is a prodigy," the widow declared. "She has needed no instruction since sixteen."

"You do play beautifully," Mary chimed in from her seat at the end of the table. The compliment, though sincere, was delivered with a little air of sadness, a resigned jealousy.

Charlotte Ostenby, too, seemed to detect this melancholic note, as she made a deliberate effort to smile at Mary and draw her back into their former conversation on the subject of books. It seemed they preferred the same authors.

Denton thought it was clever of Mrs. Ostenby to use Charlotte as a sort of substitute for head of household and seat her beside Mary. It would not take an astute judge of character to see that a natural chord of sympathy would build between them, as they had no end of similarities in personality and temperament. 

However, Denton noted with some surprise that Lucy was silent, and had been all throughout dinner. In the drawing room, she had scarcely spoken two sentences together to anybody, save for her sisters. Her countenance was eager, her eyes bouncing back and forth to each speaker, but she seemed much stifled by her own desire to say something that would impress the entire company.

"Miss Lucy," Denton leaned back a bit to catch her eye, "do you play as well? Have no fear, I will not demand a performance from you. I'm merely curious."

"Thank you, Mr. Denton," she started, unused to being so sought out. "I do, although I am nowhere near as talented as my sister - although I believe I play about as well as Anne does."

"Perhaps it is that music is not your favored pursuit. But you must have something that fills your time. Do you draw?"

Lucy's face lit up. "Indeed, sir, I do! Far more than any of my sisters." She immediately looked on the verge of stammering something to take it back.

"Are there any pieces in your portfolio you would like to exhibit? I confess that I would like to see an example of your skill, if you would oblige me." Denton smiled encouragingly.

Although her face flushed, Lucy nonetheless looked pleased. "I shall run upstairs and fetch it once dinner ends."

Fond memories filled Denton's head, all the outpourings of hope and the desire to make one's mark on the world that they held at Lucy's age. They smiled to themself, satisfied that they had given her the chance to exhibit her skills which she so desperately sought. As they shook away their fond reminiscences, they once again caught Anne's eye. Denton would have shrunk from such an intense gaze, had they not found wonder in its indescribable sentiment. It was a warm look, tinged with admiration, and they were held in it.

Anne's attention was called to her brother, and the moment soon passed.

---

After dinner, it was time for the ladies to exhibit their skills once more, and the men obediently followed their hostess rather than lingering on in the dining room.

Victoria first took a seat at the piano bench, and she began playing with a studied grace, her movements poised. In comparison, Georgiana's technique had been better, her understanding of the music more natural - but Denton had to admit that Victoria was the better performer, and in her selection of pieces, she had a flare for the dramatic. They could see her remembering to incline her head just so at the crescendo, to look her audience in the eye as she finished the last swell. It was magnificently staged, and a sight to behold.

Denton clapped loudly as she finished, for they saw that she kept her sight on them as she played the final chord of her aria. Strange that she should gaze at them, when all throughout the piece her eyes had been flicking towards Ashenby. Despite the attention she had paid to Denton, they could not believe they were her primary object. Could she mean to employ jealousy in her favor? That seemed unlikely, for Denton's situation would not set them up well to rival Ashenby. And the motivation, too, would not suit her character: Victoria was not such a woman who would take the feelings of others so lightly. Her nature was too genuine.

"Bravo!" Edward Ostenby shouted. "Rarely do we have the treat to witness such a performance."

Startled, Victoria smiled, but could not quite bring herself to meet Ostenby's admiring gaze.

For a long moment, Denton studied her, her manner and countenance. She had a natural confidence and ease when she was at Chesterfield, but it was not to be seen at Lofton Hall - rather, it came and it went. Being uneasy in company themself, they could understand this to a point, and yet it did not seem Victoria's discomfort sprung from the same source. She was not shy, and she appeared to be well-positioned to recommend herself and improve her standing. Her behavior sometimes suggested she sought her cousin's notice, and yet Denton could not shake the sense that she did not love him. But why then would she be so bashful and act in such a manner to stifle Ostenby's attentions?

It was a puzzle for another evening, Denton decided, frowning somewhat to themself.

From across the room, Anne echoed their sentiment, though on a different subject. She had been watching Denton closely the entire evening, despite her attempts to convince herself she was no more interested in him than any other gentleman. Nor was it in her personality, generally, to take such an eager interest in anybody on so few meetings. All her life, she had been neutral on the subject of men: she loved her brother, and she liked his friends, but she had paid little more than passing thought when it came to discovering the substance of their hearts.

Thus it was with some confusion that she noticed her own acute awareness of Denton's continued attentions towards Victoria. She wondered what he could mean by staring at the woman so as she sang. Why had he gazed so intently and lowered his head so when her brother paid that lady a compliment? And why had he held Anne's gaze so at dinner - or was it she who held his? Who was Anne to wonder at such things for a man she had only met twice! 

She resolved to think no more of it.

Victoria rose from her seat and gave a quick curtsey. "Thank you, Mrs. Ostenby, for the use of your lovely instrument. But I have had my fair turn for now, and I take just as much enjoyment in listening as I do playing." She turned to Denton and said, "If you do not play now, I must insist on a duet later." Before she could receive either acceptance or refusal, she left the bench to take a seat near her sister and Charlotte.

To the surprise of all who knew her, it was Anne who next took the bench. It was true that she lacked the inclination, and subsequently, the talent of her sisters - but what she played, she played boldly. She flattered herself that there were three songs over which she had complete mastery, and more than ten others which she could play passably. Though, once she learned the notes of a piece, she found that it was difficult to practice as she ought: the challenge was gone, and there were always new pieces to be discovered. And so, her cycle had ample cause to repeat itself.

As she began to play the familiar air, she did not allow herself to make eye contact with her mother or any of her sisters, much less Mr. Denton.

For their part, Denton had become overwhelmed by Victoria's proposal, and could not find it in themself to stop and enjoy Anne's playing. The idea of the duet was too much to dread. The space of Mrs. Ostenby's piano bench could not give them the distance needed to compose their nerves enough to play, and the ungentlemanly near faux-pas that Anne had witnessed at dinner was still far too fresh to risk errantly brushing Victoria's hand. They must apply to Ashenby and get him to sing in their stead, or alongside them at the very least. Then they could be certain everybody's focus would be drawn elsewhere.

They sighted him near Harding in Mrs. Ostenby's family circle, and approached as rapidly after the performance as could be considered polite. "Ashenby," Denton softly tapped the lord's elbow, "can I entreat you to sing? I feel I must have a friend stand up with me, if I am to play with Miss Victoria. Please, won't you join us? If it wouldn't be disagreeable."

With a small smirk, Ashenby inclined his head. "Very well. You have appealed to the strongest sentiments within me: philanthropy, and vanity." He appeared genuinely pleased with Denton's entreaty. "It is not often that I find my friends so sincere," he added thoughtfully, "and many have openly sought my acquaintance to use it to better their own station. Intriguing that you should benefit from the opposite, and find respite in my shadow."

With that, Ashenby made his way over to his cousin, and Denton found themself supplying his place in conversation. They watched as Anne quitted her seat and came to rest beside her mamma, but she neither spoke nor looked at them. As the weight of their silence mounted, Denton felt as if they must stay something, no matter how trite. 

"And so it is that Victoria has gotten you to play at last!" Harding chuckled, providing a subtle reprieve. "I told her to ask you - I knew you would not refuse her."

"You are very eager to show me off, and in that case, I wonder that you did not ask me yourself." Denton kept their countenance neutral, careful not to betray their displeasure.

Harding shrugged affably. "I knew you would prefer not to exhibit your skills alone, and that I must ever-so-gently push you along. I do not play, therefore I could not duet, and so I asked Victoria to stand in my stead."

Denton felt tempted to ask why Harding would bother with such a maneuver, and for whose benefit it was meant: theirs, or his own? Clearly, he had some pity for their situation, but it remained to be seen whether Harding's attentions towards them were dictated by what he deemed virtue demanded, or whether his interferences were meant to be the offices of a friend. Uncertain, Denton said simply, "I will allow myself to be pushed along, but I beg of you not to consider it a need of mine."

"Mr. Denton," Mrs. Ostenby asked with great curiosity, "how came you to learn the piano? Surely your family could not spare the cost necessary for a tutor?"

Edward Ostenby had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "Mamma, it is quite likely that Mr. Denton learned from one or other of his parents."

To Denton's relief, the widow nodded and seemed satisfied with her son's answer. Anne seemed less satisfied with Denton's response - or lack thereof - but both Ostenby and Harding were ready to guard their new friend to save them from the distress of speaking of their past.

"Anne, I have not seen you at the instrument for some time." Her brother remarked.

"Indeed! I think you play rather well." Harding supplied.

"Unfortunately, I am well aware of the limitations of my talent, Mr. Harding, or at least its application," Anne laughed. "I have three songs that I can play, and I must use them very sparingly or I risk exposing myself."

"If you aim was concealment," Mrs. Ostenby remarked dryly, "I wonder at you explaining yourself at all. It's almost as if you take pride in achieving so little."

"Everybody in this family achieves so much, that I find I cannot compete in the conventional ways. I must make my marked differences my chief attractions, dear Mamma." Anne replied offhandedly. "It wouldn't do to hide only to allow the truth to disappoint at a future date. I'm afraid that I must be whatever it is I am, and even you must allow it."

A hiss of air escaped Denton's nose, imperceptible to any but them. The corner of their mouth twitched briefly upwards before they could once again control their expression.

Mrs. Ostenby didn't deign to reply, but rather let out a small sigh of, "Oh, Anne."

In the silence that fell afterward, Lucy interjected, "Mr. Denton, would now be a suitable time for me to bring down my works? I have pencil sketches and watercolors." She kept her tone muted, but her eyes were bright and excited.

Denton resolved that they would not let such an effort go unencouraged. "If you please, Miss Lucy," they nodded, "I would very much like to see them."

Lucy gave a quick curtsey and quickly exited the room. As the doors closed, Denton thought they saw her take a skipping step down the hall.

"You are kind, sir, to indulge her interests," Georgiana smiled slightly.

"I remember what it was like to be so young." Denton replied.

"So young!" Anne shook her head. "I should hope you remember the space of so few years, for I take it you cannot be much older than her."

Denton hesitated, choosing their next words very carefully. "To me, it seems a wide gulf of time," they said, "but I admit that my circumstances are unique."

"Do you draw as well?" Georgiana inquired politely, sensing the near breach of a sore subject.

They shook their head. "I do but very little, and in truth, I simply lack the talent. I think I'd be far better at sketching a character in words, as it were."

Anne was on the verge of asking for a display of this talent, but her brother interrupted her. "I have to say," Ostenby remarked, "that Lucy has a strong natural ability. I think you will be impressed with the caliber of her work, but we shall see if brotherly pride has blinded me."

"Your family is very talented indeed. How lucky you are to have such sisters!" Harding shook his head. "I have only ever had a brother." The last part of his phrase was spoken quietly, as if it had slipped out, and Harding gradually hushed it.

"I do feel my good fortune. Lucy draws. Georgie plays. And Charlotte, well, though you have not heard her, she sings with the voice of an angel. It means that we are very rarely stuck in with nothing to do. But I must say, Anne's daily rides are not be discounted. You must join us sometime, and you will see what I mean. That is her instrument." Ostenby gave his sister the slightest of nods. Unlike his mother, he could not be easy in holding up each other sister as a paragon and neglect Anne's virtues.

Before the conversation could take another turn, the doors to the room opened and Lucy returned with her portfolio under her arm. "Give me but a moment," she smiled, "and I will show you my best." She spread a few choice drawings over the card table near the fireplace.

Denton approached and admired each in turn. The first was a floral arrangement, and if its subject was generic, the technique was amazingly well executed. "You put dew on the leaves," they noted. "I have been told it is difficult to capture water so well."

"Thank you!" She stood a little taller. "It took almost a month to get it right - long after the flowers themselves had wilted, and so I used the original drawings for reference. But I think it turned out in the end."

The next was a pencil sketch of a little cottage with a woman stooped at work in her kitchen garden. "That is one of our tenants," Lucy explained. "Georgiana and I read to her every Sunday. I liked the stone dwelling, and how proudly it stood - it reminded me of her, which is why I asked if I could capture her likeness as she did her work. I wanted to compare them. She was so impressed that she asked me to sketch her portrait, and it stands on her mantle even now." Lucy frowned. "I wanted to redo it, but she was too pleased to part with the original."

"I'm sure it is very like." Denton reassured her. "I can say with certainty that she is grateful."

They came to the next drawing, and Denton could not help but hesitate. Anne sat in the garden of the estate, half-leaning over the back of the bench to take in some sight beyond the hedgerow. One hand supported her chin, and the other was loosely draped at her side, a violet pinched between her two fingers. It was a dramatic pose, and yet the artist had used soft lines, as if it were captured in early evening light or noon shadow. Some faint memory fluttered in the back of Denton's mind, but it was quickly repressed.

"That is my favorite one," Lucy said, slightly apprehensive to hear Denton's opinion of her best work. "It's the only time I've ever gotten my sister to pose for me. There was something on her mind, and so she sat still."

"What was she thinking of?" Denton murmured before catching themself. "It's no matter - best kept between the artist and her subject. Besides, I would not break sisterly confidences."

"None of us know Anne's mind," Lucy shook her head. "Besides, she wouldn't tell me. All the same, it made for a very pretty picture - if I may say so myself." She blushed.

"It is, as you said, a very pretty picture. You have some skill, Miss Lucy. I am impressed." Denton straightened, turning away from the table with a blank smile.

Harding and Ostenby rose to join Lucy at the table, the former to view the works and the latter to support his sister. Lucy was flush with satisfied pride, but her joyful mien held no trace of arrogance. When her brother laid a hand on her shoulder, she beamed up at him. "Look, Edward! It's almost like a proper little gallery, only on the table rather than the walls."

Ashenby returned, smilingly taking in the display. "Miss Lucy, I am sorry to beg one of your artistic admirers but we must have Denton's input. Afterwards, I should very much like to get to know your works."

Denton cast one last reassuring smile back at Lucy, before somewhat reluctantly following Ashenby to where Victoria sat. The two ushered him over, eager to share the details of their little conference.

"I think I've arranged this in a manner suitable to all," Ashenby said proudly. "You may tell me your opinion of it, Denton. I could not think of a duet which also required any vocals, and then of course I did not know with which duets you might be familiar. Naturally, I am resolved on singing during the course of this night, and it is getting rather late. Here is what Victoria and I have come up with: she and I will play a duet, and then you may play as I sing."

Denton withheld a sigh of relief. "I have no objections as long as it is agreeable with both of you. Victoria, I know you sought me out directly, and a few days since you, Ashenby, seemed to downplay your musical talent."

"Oh, I am happy to oblige my little cousin in everything, even if I make a bit of a fool of myself," Ashenby grinned. "Besides, much like Miss Anne, I have a song or two in my repertoire to which I will not do a disservice by playing."

"As for myself," Victoria interjected softly, "I had not realized I had put you so on the spot, Mr. Denton, and I do apologize. I heard your playing in the house the other day and I was much moved by it. Harding suggested a duet, and I confess I believed that he was acting on your express wishes rather than his own hunch. Besides," she smiled at her cousin, "I would like to duet with James."

"Then it is settled agreeably," Denton gave a small bow and a soft smile. "The duet may be first. Then I will be most happy to hear you sing, Ashenby."

With the songs decided on, Victoria and Ashenby shared the bench. Conversation hushed all once again congregated around the instrument. Denton was very curious to see how Ashenby would play and how it would match with his cousin's style. As a result, they did not immediately notice when Mary came to stand beside them. "So," she remarked, startling them, "my cousin has ousted you from the duet."

"Not at all," Denton protested, "Ashenby graciously supplied my place."

"He asked to join her?"

"No, I asked if he might stand up with us and sing. From there we three made an agreement."

She nodded thoughtfully, pausing a moment before she said, "Mr. Denton, I think I can see that your silence is often due to an observant turn in your nature. Tell me, what is your impression of my cousin?"

They watched Victoria and Ashenby at the instrument. The lord was absorbed in looking down at his fingers to avoid playing any wrong notes, but if his part lacked musicality, it was due to a deficit of confidence, not skill. They were surprised by the warm outpouring of feeling which this realization occasioned, and spoke more honest praise than they had originally intended. "I think he is a very gentlemanly sort. He is extravagant in his good qualities, modestly aware of his own shortcomings, and I do believe that he is always earnest in everything he does." Rueful, Denton shook their head. "It is a remarkable state in which to live one's life, but it suits him very well. We, as his friends and family, are fortunate."

Mary smiled, although the expression was stretched a bit thin. "I am very conscious of my good fortune in having such a cousin. It pleases me to see him so happy and well-settled at the estate, even if we no longer live nearby - my family occupied the parsonage while my father still lived, though after his death we have had to settle some distance off. My uncle Lord Ashenby, God rest his soul, was always kind to us. He kept the living vacant, I think in hopes that perhaps we could afford to rent it someday..." Her eyes, so distant as she told her story, returned to the present with force as she looked to Denton. "I am conscious of our good fortune. There are several circumstances, however, that I wish could be different."

Denton could no longer understand her. She looked towards her sister and the lord with a wistful gaze, some private hopes of hers disappointed. Did she desire the possibility of a union between the two? Strange that she should act as though everything was lost on that bid, for it seemed Victoria's attempts to win Ashenby's love had earned her his attention, at the very least... unless Mary had cause to suspect something that would prevent any attachment, something of which Denton remained ignorant. "Miss Ashenby," they began hesitantly, "Lord Ashenby is very fond of you, and your sister."

"Oh, I know!" She shook her head, smiling brighter. "And we are ever fond of him, no matter," here the lady seemed to falter for words, until at last she simply settled on, "no matter."

What more could Denton ask? Anything else would be prying, and it was unlikely that Mary would relate anything further. They stood in silence until the duet finished.

Ashenby rose with a flourish and bowed, offering a hand to Victoria as she came to stand beside him. She looked pleased, but Denton found it difficult to imagine she was so enamored with her cousin as to wish to marry him, even taking Mary's hushed conversation of reduced family circumstances and hopeful wishes into account. If it was indeed Victoria's object, there must be something beyond love or fortune that drove her.

Denton did not have long to ponder, for Ashenby immediately beckoned them to approach. "And now," the lord announced, "I shall command all of your attention away from Mr. Denton by singing most beautifully. Which is why, Denton, you need not have any apprehension." As the youth sat themself down on the bench, Ashenby gave them a wink and spoke in a low voice. "Do try and keep up."

It was clear he was in jest, and yet something inside of Denton grew uneasy, a little nagging discomfort that they could not put their finger on, a question of what precisely was meant by Ashenby's manner in that moment. The lord too seemed to sense the awkwardness, the tips of his ears going faintly red although the rest of his aspect remained practicedly cool. Eagerly, he motioned for Denton to begin, and despite the disquisiting feeling that had not fully abated, they began to play. They soon thought of little else.

When Ashenby began to sing, Denton looked up from the keys in wonder. His voice was a fine baritone, soothing and, in accordance with the piece, affectionate. It was some transposed composition from the opera, a mistress cooing to her lover. As Ashenby sang, he embodied the piece, swells and crescendos cascading over his rapt audience, the hushed, piano moments drawing them in. It was as if he spoke to them in melody.

Denton did, in fact, have to put a concerted effort into keeping up, without getting lost in the lord's voice. To distract themself, they looked out at the audience, taking in each face in turn.

Mrs. Ostenby sat back with her eyes nearly closed, smiling at some private memory.

Georgiana was near her mother, but she leaned forward in rapt attention as if she were watching a stage-play. Across the room, Lucy very nearly mirrored her position.

Both Harding and Ostenby had seen a performance from the lord before, and they watched smilingly though without amazement, Harding unconsciously coming to stand beside Mary, who listened to the song in quiet, rapt attention.

Anne did not watch the lord at all, and Denton had to quickly pass over her in order to avoid meeting her eye - her focus was entirely on their playing.

Charlotte gently dabbed at a tear cascading its way down her face, but she did not seem on the whole unhappy.

Victoria stared at the floor, her face sullen and morose. Rather than shedding any tears, however, she seemed to have gone numb, and it was such a deep sorrow that poured out from her eyes that Denton very nearly missed a note. She looked briefly at her cousin with the same piercing melancholia, seemingly resigning herself to some bleak fate. It was the utter lack of spirit that genuinely alarmed Denton. But no, she rallied and directed a slightly unconvincing smile at her sister, who she looked relieved to find hadn't noticed her.

Ashenby finished his piece with little flare, and walked off to stand next to Ostenby without glancing back at Denton. They, meanwhile, gently rose from the bench and gave a short bow before bringing themself to stand before Mrs. Ostenby. "It is a magnificent instrument. Thank you for allowing me its use."

The widow was in a seemingly rare pensive mood, and gave a genuine reply. "My husband purchased it for me as a wedding gift. I keep it well-tuned. Hearing it played brings me such joy. It's the rheumatism in my fingers that prevents me, but I think the music brings the girls closer to their father." Now her eyes turned misty, and she took a moment to recover herself.

Georgiana grabbed her mother's hand, and turned towards Denton with a gracious smile. "You play very well."

"As well as Lord Ashenby sings!" Mrs. Ostenby exclaimed softly with a smile, before directing attention to where the lord stood. "I have not heard such a performance for many a year. You have done such good for this old heart."

Ashenby smiled as Ostenby clapped him on the back. "I thank you, madam. It is the fine acoustics in this room."

"Ashenby, your voice has sounded just as fine in many a cramped, noisy drawing room in London." Ostenby laughed. "Although it was a treat to have you sing for us. And Mr. Denton! We were kept in suspense until the last, but your skills at the instrument are masterful. I commend you both."

Denton smiled sincerely, catching Ashenby's eye. This time Ashenby seemed much more himself, and he did not have anything strange in his look as he returned the gesture with a nod.

---

The rest of the evening - for it had gotten quite late - passed quickly and without further performances, although they had several games of cards. Victoria returned to her usual good humor and playful sense of wit, which she employed to flatter and tease those nearest her at turns. When at last the carriage was called and good-byes were said, all were most satisfied that it had been a most pleasant evening, and all questions of intrigue were well-able to be put off until the next morning. Ashenby, Harding, Denton, and the two ladies had a pleasant ride home, where they talked of the Ostenbys in raptures, Mary especially pleased with her new friend, whom she already referred to as Charlotte.

Charlotte, indeed, was equally pleased with Mary, and had gone upstairs immediately after their guests had left to write a letter to her newfound companion, which she would send over with a book that the lady had requested to borrow from the hall's library. Lucy, too, retired early, for sheer exhaustion. She swayed on her feet, and at her sisters' gentle insistence, took herself to bed.

This left Mrs. Ostenby alone to conference with Anne and Georgiana, and she went over the events of the evening with gusto, although she lamented some of the particulars at dinner.

"I must say," Mrs. Ostenby sighed, "I cannot make out Mr. Denton. Georgie, he had been so attentive to your playing I thought for sure we had a match. Perhaps if I had not seated him so near Victoria Ashenby at dinner, he would have paid more attention to you. And Anne! You scarcely spoke to Mr. Harding! While I did not expect to make a love match between the two of you, I thought perhaps you would have treated him with more courtesy, rather than constantly calling Mr. Denton's attention away from your sister."

"Mamma," Georgiana interrupted, "I really don't mind. I don't think Mr. Denton's intentions tend towards me, and to speak truth I do prefer Mr. Harding."

"You prefer Mr. Harding!" Anne interjected, amazed.

"He was charm itself all evening. Even you, Anne, who never looks at a man but to find fault with him, must agree that William Harding is handsome."

"Mr. Harding." Mrs. Ostenby mused, unfazed by Anne's outburst. "How well do you know the elder brother? No, I will answer for you, for I made sure that you girls would never meet him growing up. He is a wild, unprincipled man. You would have no shortage of difficulties with the likes of him as your brother in law. But if you loved Mr. Harding, perhaps you could bear it."

"Is not the elder Mr. Harding to have an extended stay at Lofton Hall?" Anne inquired. This development intrigued her; she had little opportunity to complete a character study of any truly bad dispositions.

Mrs. Ostenby's face darkened. "He is indeed. I could not see a way that we might exclude him from the invitation I issued for your sister's debut. You must be on your guard, girls. I will speak to Lucy on the subject, but please, watch her carefully. He is just the sort to see innocence and virtue as opportunity."

"Is he so bad, Mamma?" Georgiana gasped.

Mrs. Ostenby shook her head. "I hear all sorts of rumors from town. Some which I can scarcely believe, let alone repeat. You must be very careful so long as that fiend shelters himself in this neighborhood."

"And to think," Georgiana murmured, "that the youngest has been given the face of an angel! I must admit that I had wondered at him being unmarried, but now I scarcely think I would want to be his wife even if I were to fall in love with him."