I’m Miss Louisa Ayling, and I'm here to take you into a world of glorious and glittering ballrooms with dazzling chandeliers full of silk and satin gowned ladies being partnered by those handsome gentlemen in their immaculate dark tailcoats and silk buttoned pantaloons, swirling around the room in a Waltz.
Yes, the Regency Rake is always one of the most fascinating characters, although there are still many in this modern world today, but with the restrictions and etiquette of the Regency society, lady's would try to avoid a rake when ever possible, especially if they were a young lady who has just ‘come-out’, a debutante in their first season. But there are those rake's who can be reformed!
So, why not join me to hear the stories that my Regency characters want me to tell you.
In the summer season 1816, the pleasure-seeking continued, although there would be a beau missing from the field, even though it is a rake who never liked to lose, this Regency Rake appears to have left the field.
So, why has this naughty boy decided to leave society’s events of the season and not participate in the a well known wager, well, we will discover this in
My Rake’s Progress
Written by Miss Louisa Ayling.
Matthias has had to leave London, but will he return soon to continue his pursuit for a wife, to claim Horatia.
Horaitia discovers that one of her beaux is no longer around, leaving her little choice left to decide on her future happiness, even though she knows she could be independent, thank you to Captain Sherrington, she’s loath to use his generosity.
Will Horatia discover whether Lord Desmond Highcliffe has proposed to Clarisse?
As with every season, families present events to enable their eligible off-spring the opportunity to shine, but at the end of the season means moving back to their estates to await the autumn, then the winter season and this is the period of the houseparties begin.
In Chapter 28 you will start to understand the dilemma.
SPEAKER_00
In the summer season 1816, the pleasure seeking continued. Although there would be a bow missing from the field, even though it is a rake who never liked to lose, this Regency rake appears to have left the field. So, why has this naughty boy decided to leave society's events of the season and not participate in the a well-known wager? Well, we will discover this in My Rake's Progress. Written by Miss Louisa Ailing. Matthias has had to leave London, but will he return soon to continue his pursuit for a wife, to claim Horatia? Hoatia discovers that one of her bows is no longer around, leaving her little choice left to decide on her future happiness, even though she knows she could be independent. Thank you to Captain Sherrington, she's loath to use his generosity. Will Horatia discover whether Lord Desmond Hycliffe has proposed to Clarice? As with every season, families present events to enable their eligible offspring the opportunity to shine, but at the end of the season means moving back to their estates to await the autumn, and the winter season, and this is the period of the house party's beginning. In chapter 28, you will start to understand the dilemma. Late April 1816. The journey to Brambletie Park. The journey was uneventful, a few stops to change cattle, at his usual osleries, and the carriage arrived at Brambletie Park just before midday. Matthias swung open the door and leapt from the carriage before the wheels stopped turning and bounded up the steps, two at a time. Hawkins, the butler, only just about had enough time to open the door for the Duke's son to enter the house. My lord, Perkins told you then? Yes, Hawkins. I heard that this was two months ago. Why was I not informed before now? The Duke, my lord, he did not wish to disturb you, my lord. But this was bloody serious. I know how stubborn he can be, Hawkins. Let me at him. Matthias handed his hat, cane and gloves to Hawkins, and then almost ran up the stairs, two treads at a time, leaving Hawkins in his wake. He quickly traversed the hall heading towards the duckle suite where his father would be. He reached the door to the suite. He paused, he could not decide whether he needed to knock or just walk in. The decision was taken away from him as his father's valet chose that very moment to open the door, making both of them jump back in surprise. Matthias looked at the valet and what he had in his hands. A china washbasin filled with used bandages, that smelt of rotting flesh, he looked back up into the faithful old servant's eyes. My lord? You have come. Your father will be displeased, as he specifically requested that no one trouble you with this. The stunned valet said. Henderson, how is he? He's not good, my lord. I cannot lie. Is he in a position to see me, do you think? Yes, he is propped up in bed, but I know he will be happy to see you, but I'm happy that you have come home while he's in this condition. I understand, Henderson, I'll let you continue with your unsavoury errand, and I'll just go to him then. There's no need for you to announce me, Henderson. Henderson bowed as Matthias stepped aside to let him pass. He took a deep breath and entered the room. He did not like the smell that invaded his senses. This was definitely not looking good. The rooms were dimly lit, overly warm, and smelt of illness. It made him feel slightly nauseous as his stomach turned over. He clenched it down. He would not embarrass himself in front of his father. He entered the bedchamber from the private lounge, he paused on the threshold and took in the sight. His father's four-poster bed sat majestically in the center of the room, with its heavy dark blue damask drapes artistically arranged. The man that lay with his head nestled in soft downy pillows he did not recognize immediately as his father's complexion was extremely pale, whereas it had always worn the look of slightly tanned good health from riding daily, his face draw, sculpted, hollowed by pain and suffering. He looked thinner. He was not the man he had left back in February. Two months of his absence had done this to him. His father, the proud Duke, the patriarch who took each minute of his working day so seriously, now looked a fraction of the man he knew. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He slowly walked over to the side of the bed where a chair had been placed. He waited, there was no movement from his father, so he cautiously sat, not wanting to disturb his father from his sleep, rest, he knew was a healer in itself. Matthias sat pensively for about half an hour, Henderson had not returned, thoughtfully leaving Matthias in privacy with his father. Matthias suddenly found himself looking into the same coloured eyes as his own. They blinked into recognition. Matthias, is that you? The weak, croaky voice asked. Yes, sir, it is I. What are you doing here? You are meant to be in London. I discovered that I would like to come home for a while. I was missing the countryside a little. You do not fool me, Bembridge, you love the season, a place to flirt and forland, as required by your rank. One of my disobedient servants must have summoned you. They will be gone by the end of the day, I will assure you, he started coughing on these final words, as he clasped a clean linen handkerchief to his mouth. Matthias could see the telltale sign of blood. Matthias stood to lift his father up from the pillows. Leave me be, boy. The Duke snapped. No, sir, I will not. You need me here to make sure you are alright, as I obviously cannot leave you to your own devices. Look what happened the minute I left for London, sir. It was an accident. He breathed. Pure and simple. Who shot you, sir? Matthias asked, trying to prize out the information he needed. He needed to know if it was deliberate or truly an accident. Xander Hunston. Poor lad, he was beside himself. He was nervous for some reason, I did not want the twins to have guns, but you know what it's like, the rest of the party did and Churchman's boy had won, so I relented. Xander? What happened? His gun was loaded, but instead of doing what he was told, he didn't keep the gun in the brake position. He lifted it up to look down the barrel and it went off. Where has the shot hit you, sir? In my leg, and damned painful it is too. Matthias lifted the coverlet back before his father could protest. And what has Symington said? What's his opinion? Matthias asked, as he could smell the dying flesh and muscle. He said I should have the damned leg off, son. Not something that I would ever consider. But, sir, you must realize that by lying here doing nothing is tantamount to suicide. Allowing yourself to poison your body in this way. It cannot be painless. No, Lordnam is what I have to take just to get some sleep, but I damned well not allow him to butcher my body. Never ever. Well, Lord Nelson had his arm and an eye removed. And a lot of good that did him. Killed at Trafalgar, no less. Didn't see that coming, on his blind side, obviously. No. I will recover, you see. Matthias's temper started to simmer as he replaced the sheet and then the coverlet. Do you know something, sir? Matthias looked directly at his father, who looked up at him in inquiry. You're a stubborn bastard. I have never before thought of you in that way, but I now have come to realize what you truly are. How dare you, boy? The Duke shouted back in anger. You will leave me and never come back, do you hear? I will disinherit you, leave nothing to you, only my old body to bury when the time comes. Do you hear me? Yes. Loud and clear, but it does not stop you being a stubborn old bastard. Matthias swiveled on his heel and strode angrily from the room, as his father picked up a glass of water and threw it in his direction. Matthias had already left the room as it hit the door, and walked straight into Henderson, who had been patiently waiting to enter. That's the first spark of the old Duke I have heard in weeks. What did you say to raise his ire, my lord? I told him he was a stubborn old bastard. Henderson laughed. No wonder he reacted how he did. He knows you're right, but it's not something you want everyone else knowing, well, at least not saying it out loud. You have it right there, Henderson. So, what are we going to do? He needs that leg removed, and sooner rather than later. I know, I told him that seven weeks ago, but he refused to listen. Dr. Symington was adamant, but his lordship was having none of it. So, we need to join forces and convince my father it is the best thing for him. If Symington can leave some of his leg, he may be able to have an adapted saddle once he has recovered. A good idea, my lord. Now all we have to do is convince my father. Matthias shook his head as he headed off to his rooms to freshen up and change. Then pen a few letters to family and friends, and Dr. Symington. Late May 1816. The Stanwich Soire. The last-minute preparations were well underway, as Lady Stanwish once again waddled, he was across the entrance hall and noticed one of the wall sconces out of alignment, telling one of the footmen to deal with it, and this is where Horatia found her mother. Mom Ma, I've told you not to trouble yourself, you need to rest. Well, I know you are right, but sometimes you just have to do it yourself. You cannot rely on others to get it done as you want it. I'm sure that Heston together with Mrs. Landon are more than capable at following your wishes, as you well know. Horatia explained, taking her mother's arm, she steered her to the breakfast parlour to break there fast. The soiree very soon started later that evening, and everything looked perfect, much to Lady Stanwyck's pleasure, as she surveyed the rooms. She looked towards the staircase to see Horatia glide down to the hallway to join her to greet the guests as they arrived. You are looking very pretty, my dear, that color really does suit you. Now let us hope that one of the gentlemen here tonight appreciates it too. I'm sure they will never appreciate it as much as you, Mama. That reminds me, my dear, I have had an eloquent apology from Lord Templeton, he unfortunately is unable to attend. Family business keeps him on his estate apparently. Well, we have not seen him in over a month, Mama, so I am unsure of his intention. At one time. Horatia paused in thought, and her mother coughed gently. Well, it appears that I was mistaken, so I will have to consider Biddyford as a possible husband. She sighed a little despondently. He is an agreeable gentleman, and about the right age, and he is still a very attractive man, and very attentive to you too, my dear. I don't think you could make a better choice, under the circumstances. Horatia had her doubts, there was just something about him, but she could not put her finger on it. She was sure it must be her imagination. Yes, Mom Ma, I must agree with you. Well he appeared to be the only one now that Temple had left the scene. This made her heart twist painfully in her chest, so she took several deep calming breaths before sipping her champagne. As she stood surveying the assembled crowd, they were greeting Clarisse and her parents, who had elected to come up to London, now the season was in full swing, and Lord Hycliffe. She noted the little looks that passed between the courting couple. Clarice grasped her hand fondly and whispered. I have news. Then stepped grinning and casting her eye at his lordship, Horatia immediately understood the inference. Smiled back, and squeezed her hand to show her understanding. The evening continued with a well-known soprano, who sang five songs from her repertoire, Miss Sedgwick played the harp and Mrs. Crestwick played the piano to accompany the dancers. Sitting at a table in the refreshment area, at last Clarisse was able to impart her news to Horatia. We are engaged, Horatia, ye asked my father's permission and my father gave it. He said he knew he didn't really have to, under my circumstances as a widow, but felt it was the only respectful way he knew. I'm so happy for you, Clarice, I have been on tenter hooks waiting for the news, as I knew it would not be long that he could resist your beauty and charm, my dear friend. They embraced and Horatia shed a little tear for her friend's future happiness. Then she looked around the room to see Biddiford had tracked them down. No sign of Temple, Horatia? No, sadly. Family business has kept him away, so he regretfully informed my Mama, by letter. Clarisse squeezed Horatia's hand just before Biddiford arrived by her side. There you are, ladies. I believe this is my dance, Miss Stanwyck. He bowed courteously. I do believe it is, my lord. Horatia took his proffered hand, gave a slight bow of her head to Clarisse, and was escorted from the dining room into the ballroom and onto the floor for the waltz. This felt so different to the waltzes she had undertaken with Temple, there was no sensation whilst in his arms, but he was an excellent dancer. She knew where Hart lay but realised it was to no avail to keep thinking of Temple, although she found it difficult to stop herself of the what might have been scenario. Late November 1816. Stanwyek Hall. The London season was now way behind them, and what a dull, cold, wet season! It was as if it had gone into June, July, and then August for the shooting season, as the gentry went back to their estates and their house parties, but the rain had made a quagmire of many of the estate lands, and that also meant that the prices were very high, the tenant farmers were struggling, with crop failures being prevalent and their animals were also suffering. In some areas you started to see the first signs of famine for those who could not afford it. These were hard times for everyone, even the aristocracy had to tighten their belts, but they at least could afford the extortionate prices that were being asked, due to this lack of availability. So, now, in a little less than the usual relaxed circumstances, many of those on estates were feeling the pinch. This was all made worse for the peasants, as many male family members had returned with Wellington from Waterloo, and no work was to be had for most of them. It was a difficult time for everyone. Similarly, Lady Stanweek had returned to Stanweek Hall with Horatia. They were now contemplating the upcoming Christmas season. To her disappointment, Biddiford had not come up to scratch so far, but still seemed to be a regular visitor at Horatia's family home, and would be attending the Haver's Christmas house party. Lady Stanweek had to ensure that Horatia looked her best and had given her the latest beauty routine to follow, but she also knew she had to take food supplies with her to support the Cleverleys at this time of constrained circumstances. Not many could afford to entertain, but if everyone contributed then all would be well.
