4. Sometimes, Love Needs a Meddling Hand

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It had been a few days since Hope had seen Jonathan, however, the ever-repugnant George Millbrooks had come to dinner twice in the three days since Jonathan had been in London.

Even though Jonathan was away, Hope found herself making the arduous walk to Hartfordshire. Though she could have easily taken a carriage, Hope enjoyed the scenic walk and the excercise. Lord knows she didn't get much exercise cooped up in Wellington with Mr. Millbrooks. Hope shuddered at the thought of what kind of exercise Mr. Millbrooks would want to engage in.

Hope left all thoughts of navy captains behind as she came to the front doors of the Hartfordshire house. It was a Magnificent house built in the fashionable Greek and Roman style of the day. Hope took a brief moment to admire the beauty of the structure, even though she had seen it thousands of times. She wondered as to what, if anything, she would change if she were the lady of this fine house. After being let in by a servant, she made her way to Anne Langston's parlor, an inviting pale blue room with plush furnishings.

Anne Langston was an older woman with deep brown hair that had yet to gray and the same shade of blue eyes as her son. Mrs. Langston could often be found creating lovely crochet pieces ranging from decorative works of art to practical articles of clothing, such as mittens or scarves while her daughter, Marie, practices on the expensive fortepiano.

And that's exactly how Hope found Anne, knitting a scarf while Marie became even more accomplished with each minute.

To hear Marie play was a blessing to the ears. The brunette girl had an unparalleled gift that she harnessed finely, even at only thirteen years of age. Wanting to hear the uninterrupted soft tinkling of Marie's playing for a minute more, Hope paused in the parlor door before announcing herself.

It was Mrs. Langston that noticed her first, as Marie was far too engrossed in her playing. "Oh, come in darling. No need to hover in doorways here, you know you're always welcome." Mrs. Langston spoke lovingly, like a mother would.

While Anne was not her mother, she was as close as Hope had. Anne and Hope's mother, Cordelia, had been as childhood friends that lasted up u til Cordelia's death, and Anne took it upon herself to treats Hope as her own.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Hope said when Marie looked startled at Hope's surprise visit, though not because she was unhappy to see her sister-like friend. "Don't stop playing on my account."

"I don't want to play now that you're here," Marie began, looking at Hope with adoration. Hope served as Marie's older sister and role model, even though Hope wasn't the best piano player. "I want to talk with you!"

Hope laughed and sat at one of the chairs while Anne called for tea to be brought to them. "And I want to talk with you! Tell me, have you any suitors yet?"

At her friends words, Marie turned a shade of red akin to a tomato.

"I suppose I should take that as a yes?" Hope chuckled when Marie failed to respond to her inquiry.

"Maybe..." Marie mumbled.

"Oh, do tell." Hope spoke coyly as she sipped her tea. Anne played close attention to the ordeal, though she pretended to be engrossed in her knitting. A mother has to learn of her daughter's love life somehow.

"Well..." Marie began conspiratorially. "There is a boy who I've spoken too on a few occasions at garden and dinner parties and such. He and his family live on an estate not to far away."

"And may I inquire as to the boys name? Or is that too scandalous?" Hope teased.

"His name is Timothy Barlow." The way the boys name sounded on Marie's tongue betrayed the girl's feelings for the boy. "He's quite agreeable."

"I'm sure he is. Just be careful. They all seem agreeable at first." Hope warned lightly, thinking of when she thought she was in love with a boy she met while in London when just sixteen. The boy turned out to be quite disagreeable indeed. Her young heart thought she would never recover for a total of one week. But with a lot of buttered rolls and soothing talks with Mrs. Langston, she was out from under his spell within a fortnight. Young love is like fruit. Sweet at first, but as all things sweet, it eventually rots. She just hoped Marie didn't get her hopes for a teenage boys character too high.

"You should listen to Hope." Anne spoke softly. "First loves tend to be fleeting."

Marie looked a bit put out by the lack of excitement, but seemed to actually take Hope's advice, something rather unlikely given she was a teenager.

Eventually the women (and girl) began to talk of other things, until Mrs. Langston suddenly changed the subject.

"How could I have forgotten! Hope, we are planning on hosting a ball here at Hartfordshire in three weeks time. I'd love for you to help me with the planning and decorating, if you wouldn't mind too much." Mrs. Langston began excitedly

"Of course I will help you plan! I do enjoy a good party. And there hasn't been a ball in so long!" Hope buzzed, matching Anne's excitement.

"Marvelous! Shall we begin now? If you have the time, of course."

"I have time, I don't have to be back for hours."

And with that, the women began to plan a night of fun, and more importantly, flirtation. What Hope was glaringly unaware of, was that Mrs. Langston had a rather cunning ulterior motive in planning the event. Anne had watched her son and Hope circle around each other for years, and this ball was to be her brilliant plan at uniting them romantically. As a settled woman herself, some of the best fun was getting those around her matched and settled as she saw fit. For indeed, she was the highest authority on the subject of marriage, at least in her own eyes.

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