Conscience And Consequence

In an effort to improve my writing, I've tried a couple of new things in this story: it's my first historical drama, and I've included multiple viewpoint characters. I'm curious as to how readers think those worked out.

Many thanks to

TheNyxianLily

for editing and critiquing this story, and suggesting ways of tightening up the ending.

"Remember, dear, you only get one chance to make a good first impression."

Hearing that, Lora looked up into her mother's lined face, then through the coach window as the dusk-smothered countryside slipped past, before sighing.

"I know my duty, mother. To find a good husband before I become an old maid."

Her mother elbowed her father. "Tell her, Edmund."

He jerked awake, casting an eye around the coach. "Your mother's right, of course."

"About what?" asked Lora, smiling.

"About what?" he asked, sitting straighter. "Well -- err -- about what she said."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Husbands, Edmund."

"Exactly: husbands. You need one. How else will you survive once I'm gone? But you should have no difficulty there. You have the face of an angel, and your red hair has always drawn admirers. But remember that your looks won't last; you must work fast."

Her brother Percival, sitting beside her, said, "I'm sure that Lora will make quite the stir. Remember, she's only eighteen, and I've never met anyone who didn't take to her. I just hope I can find myself a bride half as worthy."

Their mother gave a harrumph before looking away, and Lora smiled her thanks at Percival. She looked between the two men: her portly father in his powdered wig and white silk stockings, and her elder brother, handsome and dashing with a mop of blond hair, wearing a dark jacket and trousers. She knew that she should do her duty and follow her parents' advice, but couldn't help but feel that the world was changing, and some of their generation's rules were falling away.

With a shout, the coachman pulled the horses to a halt and helped the family out. Lora stepped down and, straightening her cream muslin dress, took in the gas-lit elegance of the assembly hall ahead, its limestone walls and columns towering over them. Outside, women in elegant gowns mingled with finely dressed men, many in red army uniforms; they were all making the most of the late summer's warmth. With a deep breath, Lora prepared to step forward, when Percival took her arm and escorted her. They waited at the entrance while their father paid, then proceeded into the ballroom, where graceful couples swept across the room to the steady beat of a group of musicians.

"Well?" her mother said. "Do you see anyone who would make a suitable husband?"

Lora sighed. "We've just got here." She looked about the crowd. "Perhaps him; the gentleman in the corner. He's tall, has a handsome face, and is well-dressed."

Her mother squinted. "I can't make him out from so far away. Does he look rich?"

"Yes, mother."

Her Aunt Prudence appeared, and like a summer squall, there was a flurry of hugs from the mature woman.

"It's so good to have you move to the area," said Prudence. "And the children; Edmund was on the edge of manhood when last I saw him, and Lora just a girl. Look at them now. And I was heartbroken to read about--"

"Yes," said Lora's mother. "Well, let's not dwell on that. We've moved to the coast to be with a higher class of people, and because the doctor recommended sea air for my lungs. A gentleman has caught Lora's eye already."

Lora felt her cheeks warm.

"Which one?" asked Prudence. Once Lora's mother had made it clear, Prudence shook her head. "That's Mr Gordon's sixth son. He has an income of just six thousand a year."

"Did you hear that, Lora?" asked her mother. "Six thousand."

"Yes, mother." She looked towards the man again, who was part-obscured by darkness. "Now that he's in the light, I can see that his visage is not so handsome after all, and his clothes look old and shabby. Oh, and he's several inches shorter than when I first saw him."

Her mother smiled. "Exactly, my dear. I think you had better find another gentleman for your husband. Your aunt and I are going to look around for you."

As the women walked away, Lora heard her name called. Turning, she saw a young brunette rushing towards her, her large breasts bouncing, before she engulfed Lora in a lavender-scented hug.

Eventually, the girl released her. "You don't recognise me, do you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"It's me, Cordelia."

"Cordelia!" Lora initiated a second hug for her cousin. "I would never have known you. You've changed so much."

Cordelia stepped back to look Lora up and down. "It's been four years; you've become a woman too."

"You remember Percival?" She turned to her brother, who was staring intently at Cordelia.

"How do you do, Percival?"

"Yes," he said. "I mean, why? Uh, I do well -- I am well, thank you. And you, how do you do you are you -- no, ah -- how are you?"

Cordelia gave him a surprised smile. "I'm well thank you. Are you enjoying our little town?"

"Very much so," said Percival. "And how are you?"

"I'm still well, thank you."

Lora raised an eyebrow at her brother. She'd never seen him tongue-tied before. To Cordelia, she said, "If the gentleman you mentioned in your letters is half the man you've claimed, you've got yourself the most eligible bachelor in England. Better than anything in a Jane Austen novel."

Cordelia took her hand. "He has an income of eighty thousand. Come, you must meet him."

Laughing, Lora followed her, waving goodbye to a crestfallen Percival. "Are you engaged yet?"

"The next best thing," Cordelia said over her shoulder as they threaded their way through the elegantly attired men and women. "We have an understanding."

"An understanding?"

"We have an understanding to get engaged, and then married."

Lora frowned. "And is there a date set yet?"

"For the wedding?"

"For the engagement."

Cordelia shrugged. "We've not discussed any of this."

"So how can you have an understanding?"

Cordelia stopped to look at her. "We don't need to. That's the point of an understanding. We both understand what will happen without needing to discuss it."

"Are you sure that Mr Bellingham understands that he has an understanding?"

"Eh? Ah, here he is. Mr Bellingham, this is my cousin, Lora Vernon. Lora, this is Mr Bellingham."

They shook hands, and Lora looked up into his plain face, surrounded by shaggy ginger hair. She couldn't miss the interest in the brown eyes that bore into hers.

He said, "It's a pleasure, Miss Vernon. Will you do me the honour of granting me a dance later?"

"I'm pleased to meet you, too, sir. But I wouldn't want to take up your time, not when you could spend it with Cordelia."

He waved his hand. "Cordelia wouldn't mind, would you?"

Cordelia didn't seem to have noticed the looks Mr Bellingham was giving Lora, because she was too busy sending her own his way. "As you wish, Nathaniel. You know I just want to make you happy."

"Perhaps later," said Lora, stepping back. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. But I feel a touch warm, so if you'll excuse us, Cordelia and I will get some refreshments."

Mr Bellingham bowed. "I wouldn't hear of it. I shall fetch you both drinks. Never let it be said that Nathaniel Bellingham ever lacked manners." With that, he left them and wended his way through the crowd.

Cordelia leaned near her. "How's the search for a husband going?"

Feeling guilty, though she'd done nothing to encourage Mr Bellingham, Lora turned to her. "Cordelia, I--"

"Your mother writes to my mother, who can't keep quiet about anything. But maybe there's someone here for you. Perhaps we might have a double wedding."

"A double wedding? I'm just trying to enjoy myself, though my mother won't hear a word of it. In her eyes, I have to get married and have children. But there has to be more to life than that. WHat of passion and excitement? Don't you feel that way?"

"Of course not," chuckled Cordelia. "All I want is to marry Mr Bellingham. I'm sure you'll change your mind when you meet your beau."

"Excuse me, ladies," said a deep voice behind them. They turned to see a man looking resplendent in a red army uniform, though his crooked teeth and crooked white wig spoiled the effect, along with the crow's feet around his eyes. "I know we haven't been formally introduced, but I wanted to make your acquaintance, so I decided to do it myself. The name's Mr Augustus Montague. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

Lora felt goosebumps as his gaze travelled over them both, and not in a good way.

"Miss Trobridge," said Cordelia, shaking his hand. She wiped it on her dress afterwards. "But I must leave you because my intended is looking for me." Turning to Lora, she added with a smile, "See, I told you you'd meet him."

As she dashed away, Lora turned back to Augustus, wishing she was elsewhere, or that Cordelia had stayed. "I'm Miss Vernon."

He shook her hand. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

Lora looked about desperately. "You flatter me, sir, but I, well, I--"

A woman's voice came from behind her. "I'm afraid the young lady has already promised to attend me."

Turning, Lora found herself looking into the palest, most scintillating blue eyes she'd ever seen. The blonde from whose matchless face they peered appeared to be in her mid-thirties, and wore a red silk dress that emphasised every curve of her body.

"That's correct," said Lora. "I did make that promise. So I'm afraid that I cannot give you a dance."

The woman slipped her arm through Lora's and guided her away. Augustus bowed, and Lora was pleased to see him allow her to go.

"Thank you for rescuing me from that slubberdegullion," she said to the woman as they walked away. "He seemed to take my friend and I for bachelor-fare. I'm Miss Lora Vernon. Who might you be?"

"Inès," said the woman. "I don't hold with this British custom of using surnames with strangers."

"You're not British then?" The woman's accent was upper-class English, but her name was foreign.

The woman gave her a long look. "I was raised here, but my family were French aristocrats." She raised her free hand before Lora's eyes to display a gold ring on her finger. "My family's ancient crest, a heron."

Lora admired the ring, but asked no more, knowing that such a woman was likely to have lost relatives to The Terror.

Reaching a punch bowl, Inès poured a glass for Lora then one for herself. The orange-flavoured drink was sharp, with enough alcohol to make Lora cough.

"So why are you here, Lora? To find a husband like so many of these girls?"

Lora glanced out over the throng of dancers, none of them as eye-catching as the sophisticated Frenchwoman beside her. "My parents want me to find a husband."

A smile crept across Inès's face. "I asked why

you

are here, not what your parents want."

Lora hesitated. "I suppose I am here to do as my family wishes."

"Ah, and I had such hopes for you."

"Hopes?"

Inès's eyes twinkled over her glass as she took a sip. "You struck me as the type who wanted to have fun, to live before she dies. I thought there might be fire in your heart to match your hair, a hope to be free before you are chained. Please don't tell me I was wrong."

"I--. Yes, I do want those things. I want passion, such as we read of in novels. Is that so bad?"

Inès took her hand and raised it, their fingers entwined. "I think you deserve exactly that. And I suspect you'll find it. But tell me, how has one so beautiful reached your age without already being lumbered with a husband or intended?"

Lora looked away, the pain of memories rampaging through her mind. "I had an elder sister: Jemima. Our parents tried to get her a match first, though she was not well blessed with looks. She passed recently from consumption. And so I am to start my search late, at eighteen years of age."

Inès kissed her hand. "I am so sorry."

Brushing away a tear, Lora said, "She made me promise, on her deathbed, that I would live life for the two of us. And now I have to keep that promise, while also fulfilling mother and father's wishes to get a good husband as quickly as possible. But what of you? What is your purpose here tonight."

Inès smiled, as though she knew a secret. "I too am looking for a partner."

Lora blushed as she remembered mentioning that eighteen was old to start such a search. "There are some men here who would no doubt be very happy to make your acquaintance. I imagine some are widowers of your age."

Inès gazed at Lora's face. "I don't want someone my age. I want someone young and innocent, but full of fire. Someone I can have fun with, as I strip away that innocence."

Not daring to look at her, Lora gestured to the dancers. "There are many young men here too, and I don't doubt that many of them would be interested in a woman of your charms."

"I want someone beautiful."

Lora swallowed and nodded. "Many of the men here are handsome."

"I said beautiful. Handsome is something else entirely."

Lora finally turned to face her, though her face was only inches away. "So what makes a man beautiful then?"

Inès smirked. "They can't be."

"Well, if you want a beautiful man, and men can't be beautiful, then you won't find a husband anywhere."

Inès stepped back and held out her arm. "Will you walk with me in the garden? It's hot in here with so many people. I'd rather explain in private."

Taking the arm, Lora allowed herself to be guided outside, enjoying the cool breeze on her skin as they walked, the music fading with distance. "Well?"

"I never said I was looking for a husband," said Inès. "You assumed that. I said I wanted a partner."

Lora gasped and immediately felt childish for it. "You mean that you intend to live in sin with him?"

Inès's laughter tinkled like a waterfall. "Now that's the innocence I was talking of corrupting and destroying. Yes, to live in sin. But you still don't understand how my partner can be beautiful if men cannot, do you?"

Lora's only answer was a shake of her head. The riddle was beyond her.

"You are so naive," said Inès. "So stuck in the ways of your parents. When I said I wanted someone beautiful, I meant another woman."

It was Lora's turn to laugh. "Now I know you're making fun of me. I may be young, but I know that's not possible."

Inès's eyebrow arched. "And why not?"

"Because two women wouldn't have--" She blushed. "--that which a man has."

Inès laughed again. "You are truly delightful. But trust me, you don't need 'that which a man has' to consummate a relationship."

"You're mocking me. I may not know much, but I do know that that is needed."

Inès stopped walking and turned to face Lora. "Have you lain with a man?"

Lora's mouth gaped. "Of course I haven't; I've never been married."

"Do you always consider yourself an expert in things you've never experienced? I could show you, here and now, just what two women can do for each other. Sapphistry is much easier to demonstrate than explain."

Lora glanced back at the assembly hall. How had they got so far from it? "It wouldn't be right. Please, escort me back."

Inès's hand slipped into Lora's and they began to walk back.

"I'm sorry if I have offended you," said Inès, "Would you allow me to make it up to you, by having you visit me at my estate?"

Lora was tempted, both by the idea of having a sophisticated, older friend and by the possibilities that she had mentioned. But she had to think of her reputation. And it was all moving so fast.

"I cannot; it would not be seemly."

"That's a pity," said Inès. "Are you a betting woman?"

Lora had never bet in her life. "Yes."

"I bet that at some point tonight, you'll choose to kiss me. If I win that bet, you are to come stay with me at Tarnstead Hall."

Lora waited while Inès opened the door for her. "What happens when I don't kiss you, and so win the bet?"

Inès smiled while she guided Lora back inside with a hand on her lower back. "Trust me, that won't happen."

🥂

The rest of the evening passed in a whirl. Men paid court to Lora and danced with her; her aunt and mother encouraged her or warned her off depending on the man's reputation and income. But Lora couldn't concentrate on them. She kept looking for flashes of a red silk dress in the crowd; flashes she never caught.

As the end of the event neared, Lora thanked her latest dance partner and made her way towards the exit. A man stepped in front of her, blocking her way. Looking up, she saw Mr Bellingham.

"Your drink," he said, offering a champagne glass.

"Drink? That was hours ago. I really must be leaving."

She tried to make her way around him, but Mr Bellingham shifted to place himself in her way. "But I'm sure you need it. I distinctly remember you telling me that I'd made you hot."

"I may have been warm, but trust me, it had nothing to do with the company. Please let me pass."

Mr Bellingham leered down at her, the stench of alcohol on his breath. "A dance before you go? Think of the opportunity you're passing up. I have an income of ninety thousand."

"Ninety? I thought it was -- it doesn't matter. Cordelia would be heartbroken."

Once more she made to pass him, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Let me go," she hissed.

"I do like a woman with spirit," he said. "And beauty. Let's have that dance."

He pulled her towards the dance floor while she pulled back, unable to break his iron grip.

But suddenly an older man in an army uniform stood between them. "Is this man bothering you, miss?"

Mr Bellingham released her, and she rubbed her reddened wrist. "It's alright. Mr Bellingham will leave me alone now, I'll warrant."

Mr Bellingham looked the officer up and down. "It was just play."

The officer grunted. "If it was more, I'd call you out. Would you have the courage to face me on the field of honour, or are young ladies the limit of what you'll face?"

Mr Bellingham's face whitened. "As I said, it was just play."

The officer escorted Lora back to her family, and Mr Bellingham didn't speak to her again that night, though she noticed his eyes on her. As did her elated mother.

🥂

The coach clattered along the country lanes, the fields on either side lit only by the gibbous moon. Opposite her, Lora's mother was lit by the coach's gas lamp.

"Mr Bellingham seemed much taken with you, Lora."

With a glance at her mother, Lora considered what to say. She'd not liked Mr Bellingham at all, and Cordelia was besotted.

"I'm not sure that he's a suitable husband, mother."

"Nonsense. He told me that he has an income of a hundred thousand."

"A hun -- never mind. I don't feel there is the foundation of respect between us needed for love to blossom."

"Love!" snorted her mother. "You've been reading too much of that sentimental fool you like so much. Whatever is her name?"

"Jane Austen?"

"Exactly. Love and respect aren't as important as you think." With an elbow to her sleeping husband's ribs, she added, "Tell her, Edmund. About Mr Bellingham."

Her father straightened up. "What -- uh -- yes, Mr Bellingham. Awful chap. You must stay away from him."

Her mother glared at him. "Edmund."

"Oh," he said, "You meant Mr Belling

ham

. Now there's a capital fellow. You should form a friendship with him."

"And..." said her mother.

"And court him?"

"And..."

Her father looked confused. "Marry him?"

"Exactly," said her mother, slapping her knees while her father looked relieved to have guessed the right answer. "Your father has decided. You are to court and marry Mr Bellingham."

Shocked, Lora turned to Percival and saw an opportunity to change the subject. "Will you not defend me when our parents gang up on me? It's most unlike you. Why are you being so quiet?"