Hartsthrone Hall was much larger than his parents' house, stretching proudly atop the crest of the hill. Its pale stone exterior was still lit up from the last rays of light that stretched across the top of the rise, making the facade gleam with a golden warmth. The windows, unlike the last time he had visited, were shining like bright lanterns, allowing tiny peeks into the world behind their glass. Inside the house, somewhere past the heavy marble columns and glittering windows, Lady Arabella Balfrey waited for him. Along with her husband.
His chest was a confusing flutter of feelings. It was tight with anticipation, his heart feeling too large to be contained behind his ribs. And of course, there was that mysterious elation, the giddiness of knowing that she was near. He barely registered the grandeur of the front hall as he followed his parents, walking behind them in a daze to the sitting room where they were led.
It was not the same intimate parlour where she had taken him before. This was a massive room, built to impress. It had changed somewhat since he had been there as a boy, over ten years prior. The details of his memory surged with the incongruence of the present. He took in the long pale blue curtains that framed the large windows, the sprawling carpet in its mix of buttery tones and light blues. Stiff looking round-backed chairs were arranged around a few cornflower blue settees. Behind them, a small fire was lit, working along with the dozens of candles to burn away the shadows of the encroaching twilight and its corresponding chill.
Then he saw her. Arabella. Her face was already trained on his, pale green eyes wide and serious, mouth soft and seductive. She was dressed in pale blue, with the light of the candles reflecting in her golden curls. She had looked so much in harmony with the room that he hadn't noted her at first. She belonged here, it was clear, this mistress of the golden hall. She was walking towards him now in small dainty steps, followed by a dark stranger at her elbow.
But of course, it was not a stranger after all. It was only Nicholas- Lord Balfrey, her husband. He had changed only a little since Marlowe had seen him last. His face was the same, a little long with a slightly pointed chin, a broad nose, and dark eyes that were both kind and sad. He had always had the look of a mournful cow, Marlowe thought unkindly.
Nicholas's wide mouth broke into an unexpected smile as he clasped him by the forearm in a friendly gesture. "Marlowe! What a pleasure to see you again! Or is it Lieutenant Hughes, now?"
"It's whatever you please, my lord."
He scoffed. "No titles then. For either of us. I would prefer to recall the golden days of our boyhood than my current obligations. Do you agree?"
Marlowe gave him a curt nod. His eyes drifted anxiously to Arabella at his side. Nicholas immediately noticed and smiled. It was such a small thing, but Marlowe thought he could see a change come over Nicholas as he looked at his wife. He stood up straighter, his shoulders broader, his chest swelling with pride. "Let me introduce you all to my charming wife, Lady Arabella Balfrey."
Marlowe forgot for a moment to breathe as Arabella extended her small hand to his. "A pleasure," he gasped and then quickly moved aside for the introductions to be made to his parents. He stared at Arabella stupidly. She looked away, a mischievous smile on her face, but they had no time to talk, for the next set of guests was already entering. The Jennings had just arrived and Marlowe rushed to them, pulling them into conversation as soon as the greetings were done with in order to distract himself from paying too much heed to Arabella, who was now chatting sociably with his parents and Nicholas.
Miss Jennings smiled at him warmly. "I'm still indebted to you for your hospitality the last time we met," she said. "My mother was most scandalized about the whole situation. Though she won't mention it for embarrassment now..." She smiled in the direction of her mother, who had joined Marlowe's parents on the settee. He caught Arabella's eye for an instant and looked away immediately, back at the beauty before him. Miss Jennings was wearing her dark hair pinned up and a few dark curls had escaped to frame her face. Pearl pins dotted her dark hair like constellations in the night sky. Her other winning features, which had been so much on display when she had arrived at his home after the rainstorm, were now only hinted at underneath a lovely peach silk gown that brought out the flush in her cheeks.
"Think nothing of it," he said. "Twas nothing more than any friend would do."
"Hm, yes. Speaking of friends, is it true that you grew up with Lord Balfrey there? My family met him and in London during the season."
He caught Arabella's eye again on accident as he looked towards Nicholas. "It's true." He looked back at Miss Jenning's face, allowing himself to be lulled by her reassuring presence. It was an odd sensation, to let himself relax around her while still knowing Arabella was watching somewhere behind his back. It was rather like being caught in the ocean between two shifting currents.
Miss Jennings laughed. "Well, then I shall have to ask him for some of your more embarrassing childhood escapades."
Marlowe must have made a face, for she laughed again. "I promise to wait until after dessert." She eyed the lavish room. "It's like a treasure trove in here, is it not? And Lady Balfrey there like Helen of Troy. She would make quite the portrait, would she not?"
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Yes, quite."
She didn't seem to notice his discomfort. "I am hoping that we shall be friends," she confided. "I barely knew her in London. The season was so busy! But I have longed for better friends in the country." She smiled again. "Though I suppose I can add you to my roster now that you're back. I must confess that while your parents are charming, there is something to be said for keeping company with younger blood. I am feeling quite rich in neighbors now."
He gave her a small smile in return and found it frozen as Nicholas approached them. "Miss Jennings, I do believe I overheard you asking Lieutenant Hughes about our childhood escapades?"
She blushed prettily. "Forgive me Lord Balfrey. It was perhaps impertinent of me!"
Nicholas smiled at her warmly. "On the contrary, I fondly remember those halcyon days." He gave Marlowe a mischievous glance. "Did the lieutenant ever tell you how we stole a horse on accident?"
Miss Jennings' eyes lit up as she clasped her hands together in excitement. "Indeed not! Whatever happened?"
Marlowe groaned and looked away as Nicholas laughed. "No need to be embarrassed, Marlowe. We were... what was it... fourteen, perhaps? Well-"
But his story was cut off as the new guests arrived. Lord and Lady Keating were being shown into the room and the conversation stalled immediately as introductions were made. The pair were rather older than everyone present and very stiff and formal. Lady Keating was tiny and wizened. Lord Keating was the opposite. One of the largest men that Marlowe had ever seen, though dressed impeccably.
They joined the others on the settees and the conversation grew stilted as the party waited for dinner. When it was called, Marlowe leapt to his feet, thinking to escort Arabella on his arm. But his father had already offered her the courtesy, and Marlowe found himself unfortunately leading his mother.
There had been no question of sitting near Arabella at dinner, as he did not rank highly enough for that honor, but he had still managed a nice enough time, chatting pleasantly with Miss Jennings and her father who were both near to him. He even found the elderly Lady Keating to be a surprising wit. And of course, there was Arabella. Just be nearing her, basking in her presence was enough to make the dinner worth his while. He drank in glances of her between bites, between sips, noticing that she seemed to be watching him the whole while, a secret lurking in her eyes as she chatted with the others.
