It was common knowledge among anybody with any standing in society that Miss Mary Morstan and Miss Molly Hooper were among the most sought-after women in England. Having both been orphaned and left with substantial fortunes, these two women, upon their coming of age, had more suitors at their feet than they knew how to handle on their own—the greater portion of these suitors being of the most abominable nature: fortune hunters. And being nearly the same age (Miss Morstan being the elder of the two), and therefore presented at around the same time, the young women inevitably met, and became the dearest of friends, rallying together as "unfortunate heiresses." One could hardly find the duo separated, save when they retired for the night, and each lady would assist and advise the other on all matters—particularly on matters of the heart. If one wished to woo Miss Morstan, one would also need to obtain the good opinion of Miss Hooper, and vice-versa. Thus, at the relative ages of twenty-two and twenty-one, and after two seasons, they had not been married.
Please do not believe these women to be shrewd or unforgiving; on the contrary, they were known to be of a very cheerful disposition, eager to find happiness, and to encourage it in all those of their acquaintance. And neither woman was too caught up in vanity or pride, and they always endeavored to show kindness to every soul. But they had been taught from a very young age to be cautious with their hearts, and were both quite determined never to give consequence to any man, except he prove his worth, his heart, and his disregard for the fortune he would gain. As of yet, not one man had passed muster.
And so, when Molly received an invitation to spend Easter Sunday, and the three weeks following, at the country home of her cousin, Sir Michael Stamford, it hardly came as a surprise when she replied to the letter of invitation stating that both she and Miss Morstan would be in attendance at Bartholomew Place. Indeed, it was almost expected, and Sir Michael duly wrote his young cousin to assure her that they would both be most welcome, and his wife, Lady Anne, looked forward to introducing both women to their friends—in particular, those of the male variety. Indeed, she was very much anticipating St. George's Day, for her husband had agreed to give a ball that evening, and nearly every guest they had invited would be in attendance.
The young heiresses arrived at Bartholomew Place on Friday, the seventh day of April, the first of the guests to arrive. Lady Anne was all grace and kindness, ever the dutiful hostess, but genuinely happy to see her cousin and her friend. She happily reported news that she was increasing, due to deliver in the early autumn, and the three women spent the greater portion of the afternoon and evening talking over this joyful news, though of course, they allowed time for prayer and reading of scripture. Lady Anne explained they were to be joined by the remainder of the party on the morrow, a total of twelve people, and all would attend Sunday's Easter service. Molly commented that the vicar, Mr. Ashcroft, would likely die of shock at the overwhelming number of worshippers in his congregation.
As the firelight faded, Lady Anne excused herself, retiring for the evening, with her husband following not far behind. Thus, Molly and Mary were left to themselves.
"What a merry assembly this is sure to be," Mary remarked dryly.
Molly, recognizing her friend's acerbic tone, swatted her arm lightly. "Now, Mary. I'm sure it will be quite a splendid occasion. Anne has never failed at giving a delightful party, and Michael is a very good judge of character. He would not dream of inviting any rakes to stay in his home."
"I believe you entirely," Mary replied, "but in my experience, rakes are entirely too adept at hiding their true nature, only revealing it when it suits their purpose"
Allowing this, Molly nodded. "This is true. But we must hope for the best, while still being on our guard. And perhaps we might be pleasantly surprised."
Mary's response was a quiet laugh. "You are so very optimistic, Molly. I only hope you are right."
With nothing more to say, and no energy left in their persons, they, too, retired for the evening. Mary wasted no more thought than necessary on the coming events, merely hoping that Molly was right, and that their stay would not be marred by fortune-seeking scoundrels. Molly, however, being a hopeless romantic, and ever optimistic about the future, allowed herself to daydream of a tall and handsome stranger, who would sweep her off her feet and steal her heart, but not before offering his in return. The thought made her smile, and she drifted off to sleep, with pleasant dreams of a happy future.
A/N: Jane Austen's style is very hard to copy, but oh, how it transports you right into that era! I hope I'm not making things too dry. To be fair, this is only the introduction. The rest of the story will be much juicier, I promise!
Also, a quick disclaimer: I'm not a historian. I don't have a Mind Palace of knowledge about the Regency era, nor am I an expert on religious observances. The information I'm presenting is based on Wikipedia, and my own imagination. St. George's Day in particular is not a holiday I'm familiar with, being an American (though I wish I were British). From what I've read online, it likely wouldn't have been celebrated at this time, but I'm going with it. It makes for a nice little addition, and gives an excuse to have a ball. Because, let's be honest, every Regency story must have a ball!
I hope you like this little story of mine! Please review!