Dignity and Depravity

Chapter IX

As the warm ebbs of summer winds had yet to completely dissolve into crisp fall gales, Amelia delighted in taking daily walks in the extensive gardens that surrounded the manor house. It was an activity that provided her with both exercise and private contemplation. Often, she would bring along a book to read while sitting on a bench in the copse to the east of the grand fountain.   This reading spot afforded her many moments of enlightenment, as if the sun cascading through the boughs of the trees metaphorically illuminated her thoughts.  When Fordyce's Sermons felt tame and prosaic, Amelia would exchange her copy for a novel of less spiritual import.  A particular favourite was The Mysteries of Udolpho, and other such gothic novels.  Such diversions were best consumed in hermetic fashion, as proclivities towards the sensational were best kept private, especially when in mixed company.

The manor's library boasted an extensive collection of books from which Amelia could choose. She relished the ritual of seeking out the perfect tomb to occupy her mind. Her voracious appetite for literature had been encouraged by her mother at a young age, as she was desirous of presenting all her daughters as well educated ladies.  However, for all her admonishment, Amelia's mother lacked discipline in the literary arts, and would, more often than not, employ her skills at needlepoint or other decorative skills instead.  Amelia's father was the true bibliophile. He applied his recommendations frequently and with such fervour, that Amelia could not help but be enamoured with reading. This connection had created deep and lasting affection between father and daughter that could scarce be rivaled.

As the weather was fine this morning, with only a moderate breeze, Amelia left the manor house well before breakfast.  After taking a turn about the rose garden, she decided to extend her walk to include the yard as well. The wind was cool, brightening her cheeks with her efforts, but not so keen as to cut through the very fine wool fabric of her Kashmir shawl . She was thankful she had chosen her plain bonnet as the wind whipped past, blowing her curls across her face. Once reaching the top of the hill near the end of the yard, she stole a look back towards Eagleton Manor, and gazed at the glory of her new stately home. Little did I ever imagine that I should be mistress of all this, thought Amelia, as there was always a chance that John may not have chosen me as his wife. How much I have gained!

The early morning sunshine reflected perfectly on the windows and the waters of the fountain. Such a lovely prospect! I should do well to bring my watercolours tomorrow, Amelia reflected. Pausing for a moment longer, Amelia's eyes were soon drawn towards a coach that was now chauffeuring towards the house. Amelia started, having not expected any visitors to arrive before midday. Knowing full well that John was occupied in his library, Amelia immediately dashed toward the house lest the visitant be expected to apply to the housekeeper alone for admittance.

Her brisk march down the hill soon succumbed to sprinting, as she felt invigorated with the physical effort and propelled along by zephyr at her back. Catapulting forward while blithely laughing, she sprinted until her sides ached and she was within view of the main house. Pausing at the copse momentarily to catch her breath, Amelia espied the carriage passing through the gate.  Hastening anew, Amelia dashed towards the house and entered through the kitchen just as the coach halted in front of the manor.  Hastily removing her shawl and bonnet in the hallway and passing them to her lady's maid, Amelia stroked a hand through her wind-blown hair and promptly seated herself in the drawing room just at the butler opened the door to announce her guest.   Shrewdly, she placed a novel in her lap, hoping the stranger would not note the rattling of her breath and brightened colour in her cheeks spurned on by her recent calisthenics.  

"Mr. Thomas Archer."

Advantageously using the brief detainment of Mr. Archer in the doorway as he handed his top hand, gloves and walking stick to Jennings, Amelia readjusted her posture and composure.  Elegance of manners was required in welcoming him, yet she had not been married so long as to be accustomed to greeting gentleman callers without a chaperone.  She hope the fuss of his arrival would be reason enough for John to quit his affairs and come to the drawing room without her requiring to summon him formally.  Opening her book, Amelia raised it surreptitiously near her face so that she could also take in his figure without pretense.  Starting at his feet, Amelia examined his figure as he entered the room.