The subject of the meaning of debauchee has, of course, been discussed numerous times, and This Author has come to the conclusion that there are indeed debauchees,a whole lot of them. But however Nicholas Hale is certainly not among those to be considered as such. The lower debauchee is one who flaunts his exploits and behaves with the utmost level of idiocy and he thinks of himself as someone who is dangerous to women . An upper debauchee, however, does not flaunt his exploits because he knows that he does not need to. He knows that he is adored and is the topic of discussion among the Ton. He knows who he is and how he is perceived by society. He does not behave like an idiot, unlike the lower debauchee. He understands that he is dangerous to women.
That description however does not fit Viscount Hale—though his reputation precedes him—he is considered to be one of the season's most eligible bachelors.
The description however does fit that of Julian Hale, he doesn't flaunt his exploits because he understands that he has no need to. He is loved by both men and women of the ton, he knows who he is and what he has done. He has little patience for the talks of the society and makes his intentions known when necessary. A man who is the opposite of his brother. His actions quite often precedes him.
With that distinction made, This Author shall retire Her quill immediately.
The only question is: Will 1813 be the season either one of the Hale brothers finally succumbs to the bliss of matrimony? This Author thinks... probably not.
Lady Ravenscroft's Society Papers, 10 April 1813
"Heavens help me, she has written again?" Helena Beaumont asked her younger brother as she noticed the gossip sheet in his hand while entering the room.
"Indeed she has," James replied with a smile.
"She said most men are debauchees," said her younger sister Catherine, who was four years her junior, as she handed her a copy of the sheet.
"Well, she is not wrong with that."
"And how do you know that?"
"The men that I have encountered since our arrival are much worse than any man she described as a debauchee."
Lady Eleanor Dorrington, Helena's mother's sister, walked in with her stick supporting her. Her dog—or rather, puppy—trailed along as she entered the room.
"What are you three talking about?"
"Helena's throwing a fit because Lady Ravenscroft is writing about debauchees and the Hale family," James explained.
"I didn't throw a fit," Helena defended herself as she glared at James.
"The Hale family, you said?" Lady Dorrington asked, completely ignoring Helena.James nodded.
"Yes."
"And who among them did she write about?"
"Nicholas and Julian," Catherine reported.
"She seems to have an interest in the Hale family; one might think she is one of them or rather close to them," Helena said as she glanced through the gossip sheet once more.
"I think she just seems to compare them to debauchees," Catherine commented.
"She compared Nicholas to a debauchee?" Lady Dorrington asked with a frown as she took her seat.
"The opposite, actually; he is referred to as the season's most eligible bachelor," James explained while taking a sip of his tea.
"That is quite true, but I doubt Nicholas is ready for marriage," Lady Dorrington said as she read the sheet.
"And you know that because?" Helena asked, looking at her.
"Nicholas is like a son, someone that I took care of after his grandmother's death," she said as she raised her brows over whatever she was reading in the column. "I think I know him well enough to know his intentions."
"I think Lady Ravenscroft enjoys writing about debauchees," Catherine said, diverting the conversation.
"Of course she does," Helena retorted. "If she wrote about boring issues, no one would pay to listen to her."
"That, I would say, is not true," Catherine replied."Well, she wrote about us the week before, and we both know that we are not as interesting as the people here in London."
Helena offered her a smile.Helena and James might not be interesting to the people of London, but Catherine, with her beautiful, slick hair, and immensely brown eyes, had already been named the Incomparable of 1813.
Helena, on the other hand, with her blue eyes and black hair, was quite often disregarded or referred to as "the older sister." She supposed that was far better than when she was being referred to as "the spinster sister."
At the age of two and twenty, one has to be honest: Helena was a bit old to be enjoying her first season in London. But she had no other choice. The Beaumonts lacked finances when Helena's father passed away four years ago; they had no choice but to delay her debut.
They had to watch the way they spent every penny and pound. Lady Dorrington decided to take in the family of three despite the animosity their late mother bore towards her.
Beginning a season in London was far beyond what the two girls had expected; they had to spend more than they could afford, although their finances were sponsored by Lady Dorrington.
The girls knew that they had to make the most of their stay here in London, and it was much more advisable to be off the marriage mart by the end of a lady's first debut season. Starting from her second season, a lady is rarely asked to dance as she is perceived as 'inadequate'.
The girls knew that life back home being branded as a spinster would be hard. Their debts would be piled up, which was why the two girls were forced to make their debuts in the same year.
It had been decided that the most practical time would be when Catherine was eight and ten and Helena almost two and twenty.Helena certainly did not enjoy the process of a debutante season and would rather be a spinster. But heavens forbid, Lady Dorrington was there to prevent it.
Helena smiled at the thought. She hadn't wanted a season. She had known from the onset that she lacked the ability to capture the attention of the ton. She was definitely not someone that would be regarded as beautiful; she was the type to talk without thinking.
She spoke whatever was on her mind without caring about the reaction of the ton. Even Catherine, who was also referred to as a quick-witted individual, knew when to stay silent. She knew what to say to turn the attention of men towards her.
Helena, on the other hand, was the opposite of Catherine: she was always ready to make a jab at any man that implied what a woman's role was. She could not sit still if her life depended upon it; her favorite thing to do was riding horses, shooting, and hunting for prey.
As for her current and first season in London , she was actually very much in love with the beauty of the city; she'd met quite a few nice people, although it seemed that most people gossiped about others in a vile manner a lot.
A season in London, however, seemed like a horrible waste of money to a girl like her, and she would have been perfectly content to remain in Lyon tending to her horses, especially Brittany.
But Lady Dorrington would have none of that.
"Regardless of whatever relationship I had with your late mother," she'd said, "it is my responsibility to give you all the care and affection that you deserve."
"But—" Helena managed to get out, momentarily speechless.
"I have a responsibility to your mother; although she hated me with her last breath, part of that responsibility is to see you two married off happily and securely."
"And I could be happily secured back in Lyon," Helena had replied.
Lady Dorrington immediately cut in, "There are far more men here in London for you to choose from—men who are accomplished, might I add."
Catherine immediately joined in, while James quietly left the ladies to their business.
Catherine stated that a season in London without Helena would not be the same. Since Helena loved her sister, her fate was completely sealed.
And so there she was—standing in the drawing room of Lady Dorrington's famous mansion, a house of great fashion and taste.
She took a copy of the gossip sheet that James had left behind, causing Catherine to immediately turn her attention toward her.
"Why are you interested in the gossip sheet?" Catherine asked with a smirk.
"Just to know what is going on in society," Helena responded, glancing through the sheet.
"Or perhaps you are interested in debauchees and the Hale family," Catherine said with a cheeky grin.
"Okay, maybe I want to read a little about them," Helena admitted.
"You seem to be awfully interested in the Hale brothers. Be honest," Lady Dorrington said with a smile.
"I just want to know about them in order to know who to avoid. Julian seems to be the kind to seduce anything that walks," Helena countered.
"Helena!" Both Lady Dorrington and Catherine exclaimed.
Helena merely smiled.
"You told me to be honest. Lady Ravenscroft said in her last issue that they harbor more mistresses than she could count on her fingers."Lady Dorrington stared at her, searching for an appropriate response.
Finally, she said, "You should know that a lot of men have mistresses."
"True," Helena retorted, "but that doesn't give them the right to do so. Catherine is not to court any one of them."
"Might I remind you that you are enjoying a season as well?" Lady Dorrington reminded her, and Helena responded with a glare.
Everyone in the room knew that if any of the Hale brothers were to court a Beaumont, it would certainly be Catherine.
"But we must admit, for a gossip columnist, she sure isn't scared to voice her opinion about people," Catherine commented after a moment.
Lady Ravenscroft was, without a doubt, the most interesting piece of gossip in all of London. Helena had heard that the gossip column had begun about two years prior.
She had heard about the writer's achievements and was certain that whoever Lady Ravenscroft was (not that anyone knew her identity), she had to be a well-connected member of the ton. No other gossip writer could unravel all that she prints in her columns every day except Sundays.
Lady Ravenscroft always had all the latest information, and unlike all other gossip sheets, she wasn't the type to be hesitant about using people's full names.
The week prior, for example, after witnessing Helena's attempt at a quadrille, she wrote clear as day: "Miss Helena Beaumont dances as if she's being pursued by bees, not suitors."Helena felt offended by the insult, although she'd heard that one could not consider oneself "accepted" until one had been insulted by Lady Ravenscroft.
Even Catherine, who was known by a lot of people, had not been insulted by Lady Ravenscroft. Helena didn't want to be a part of what a debut season in London entails, but she thought she might as well do so for Catherine's sake.
Helena had to be grateful for her insult from Lady Ravenscroft; the columnist had likened Amelia Wellington to an overripe watermelon in her yellow satin, so Helena's insult was definitely better.
"Mark my words," Lady Dorrington said, folding the paper in her hand. "Someone is going to uncover that woman's true identity, and trouble shall be her second name."
Catherine burst out laughing. "Do you really think that someone will be able to uncover who she truly is? She has managed to keep it a secret for more than two years."
"Nothing that big can stay a secret forever, especially not in this town," Lady Dorrington replied.
She threw a ball across the room, which her dog—or perhaps puppy—ran to catch.
"A scandal as big as the unveiling of Lady Ravenscroft, I cannot foresee,"Catherine said.
"Well, if I had the faintest idea of who she is," Helena said, turning her attention to the duo, "I'd probably make her my friend. A close one at that."
"I am pretty sure that is a Pomeranian," Helena said as she stared at the puppy, which was staring back at her
"He seems to love you," Lady Dorrington replied, forcing a glare from Helena. She wasn't a huge fan of puppies, especially one that looked deformed.
"What gave you that impression?" Helena asked in annoyance as the deformed puppy kept circling her, its tail wagging.
"His tail is a sign, and he only wags it whenever you are near," Lady Dorrington explained, to which Helena shuddered in disgust.
"Did she say any other thing of interest?" Catherine asked, leaning over.
"Something about the ball to be hosted by the Hale family, which she encouraged us to look forward to, and an unfortunate description of Mrs. Wellington's poor choice of clothing," Helena replied.
Catherine immediately let out a laugh. "Lady Wellington does seem to pick the worst set of clothes."
"Who would blame her?" Lady Dorrington said as she glanced toward the duo. "That woman wouldn't know how to pick out a dress color for her girls if heaven were to open."
"Lady Dorrington!" Helena and Catherine exclaimed at once.
Helena was trying to force down a laugh, while Catherine looked as if she was about to burst into tears from her laughter.
"Well, it's true. She keeps dressing her eldest in yellow. Anyone with eyes can see that the poor girl needs a dress that is close to green."
"Well, you can't blame her. She is of old age," Catherine countered.
"Which is exactly the reason why she needs to listen to the judgement of shopgirls. They understand their jobs better."
"From what I have seen of Lady Wellington, she does not seem to be the type to listen to the opinions of shopgirls," Helena said, turning to Lady Dorrington.
"That is indeed true. That woman is more stubborn than a horse," Lady Dorrington said.
"She ought to listen to Lady Ravenscroft at least; the woman seems to take immense joy from ridiculing her daughters," Catherine said.
"That does not seem to bother her. I am going upstairs for a nap," Lady Dorrington declared, as she took her stick.
"Do not forget that we are to attend the Spring Ball this evening. It is better for you two to rest before we head out." She said before leaving the two.
* * *
At that very moment, the subject of discussion at Nicholas Hale's residence was marriage. Nicholas Hale leaned back in his chair, his glasses fitted perfectly as he glanced through documents that required his attention, a glass of water beside him as his eyes swirled through the pages.
He had moved into his grandmother's house after his studies at Oxford and barely made contact with his family. Not that they cared about how he was faring. He had fired every staff member who was present when his grandmother died eight years ago.
A knock was heard just before his butler announced the arrival of his mother. They had last seen one another when his father was buried the year before.
"I think it's about time you get married," she said as she walked into his office. Nicholas looked up from the document in his hand, removed his glasses, and stared at her.
What on earth did she mean by marriage?
He was nowhere ready for that responsibility; he did not want any of that until he was ready.
Grace Hale was the type who didn't take no for an answer; she made decisions and expected everyone to follow them. She had informed Nicholas when he arrived from Oxford quite plainly that he was not welcomed into their house and every form of interaction between him and his siblings was cut off.
This sudden declaration had come as a bit of a surprise—perhaps more than a bit, considering the fact that she had announced to almost all the matrons in town that he had decided to permanently stay in London.
A declaration that had annoyed Nicholas.
He did not have marriage in mind anytime soon; he had more issues at hand that needed his attention. As much as he didn't involve himself with his siblings, Nicholas felt it was his responsibility to make sure they were well supported, especially his sisters.
Violet had been married off by his mother and late father about two years prior; they had been annoyed that she was unable to secure a suitor and decided it was best for her to be married off to Lord Granger's son—Dominic Granger—not that he knew much about the family.
Every time he had an opportunity to meet Violet, she was always sad and scared to talk.
Lilian Fenwick's death had been both sudden and unexpected; her death had been the final push for Nicholas's falling out with his family. Nicholas knew that if his grandmother were alive, her final request would have been to make sure that his siblings were well taken care of. Even though he rarely conversed with them, he was still close to Alexander, Adrian, Henry, Cecilia, and Beatrice.
The other three always seemed to hate his guts.With five brothers and three sisters, the household's finances had to be kept in check.
"It is what is expected from the Viscount and it is your responsibility," she explained as she glanced through the documents in front of him—not that she understood a word of them.
"This family relies heavily on you, as much as I hate to admit that. My advice is for you not to fail me and your late father." she said as she headed towards the door.
"The Spring Ball is taking place this evening. Do well to attend." she said before slamming the door shut.Nicholas started to find it hard to breathe as soon as she left. Her words kept replaying in his mind.
"My Lord, focus your mind and breathe," his butler and most trusted servant said as soon as he rushed in and saw his state.
Ah, that's right.
Breathe.
"Shall I call for the doctor?" Fredrick, his butler, asked when he was finally calm.
"No, w-we shall d-depart for the S-s-spring Ball later t-this e-evening," Nicholas announced as he stood up from his chair and headed towards his room.