Good Day | Ambrose & Cecily
A notion had taken root into the mind of the Prince of Arith. This lone, unsettling notion was, perhaps, in its way well intentioned. After all, its goal was ultimately a familial wish to protect his little brother…but, sadly, this lonely notion, conceived in the blank wastes of his brain, was the child of confusion and pretense and, good as perhaps his intentions may have been, well, it was all a mistake.
This notion was a rather complex one, really, with fourfold misunderstandings mounted one upon the other. The first mistake was the focused and certain conviction that the Misses Isabella and Cecily were one person, a person who was, in fact, a daughter of the House of Astley. This Astley had, at one time, caught the eye of Ambrose’s little brother and, furthermore, this impetuous young woman was now betrothed to Ambrose’s own cousin (who was not, in fact, his cousin), Charles Acton. Ambrose held this all as an absolute certainty and was confused on but one point: whether or not the lady in question was a dragon dragoon as, distressingly enough, he had heard both that she was and that she was not…which was likely due to the fact that he was, in truth, conflating at least three entirely different people, and very likely more.
Ambrose did have one other notion which filled him with discontent and this was the surety that this little upstart had once attempted to ensnare Ambrose, himself. Naturally, with his wits and high courage, he had eluded the trap which had enfolded his family members, but he meant to put her trouble making to an end.
Now, there is one seeming mystery to this entire charade which you must now allow this author to put to rest. The reason the Prince of Arith believed she had once tried for him was very simple. Back in the mists of time when Prince Aloysius and Miss Isabella Turner had stepped out together, her identitle twin sister, Miss Cecily, had been kind and attentive to Ambrose for two reasons. First, because she believed that, someday, Isabella and Aloysius might end up together, which would make them all family someday and, second, because everyone else was avoiding Ambrose. That was all it had taken for him to believe that she wished to be with him for, after all, who would not wish for so desirable an outcome? That a woman might know him and not want him was, after all, so ludicrous a notion that it had not even occurred to him. However, it also gave rise to his greatest doubt on the entire subject, for the Prince of Arith believed not simply that the social climbing young woman wished to marry the heir to the throne – but also that she had fallen madly in love with him and he was not so very confused that he wished to wound one who had formed so flattering an attachment to himself.
So it was that Ambrose Ardenne pulled up at the Turner residence in a gilded carriage one brisk morning, demanding to see Lady Cecilia, a matter which had – after some confusion – resulted in the servants fetching down Cecily, explaining what little they understood of the case: simply that the Prince had arrived and called for a woman named Cecilia which, to the best of their knowledge, could only be Cecily.
He had come for one purpose, and for one purpose alone: to ward off this foolish young woman who thought she could dupe so noble a set of families and, further, to warn her that the likes of Amrbose Ardenne, Prince of Arith, heir to the throne of Aclea, had got his monocle-clad eye set directly upon her. This terrible vision, he had no doubt, would soon ward her off, but he had decided to somewhat soften his approach, due to her tender sentiments regarding him.
So it was that, as Cecily stepped into the room, Ambrose turned with studied grace and swept a bow. “Good day, my lady. I must say, this is not to be a pleasant meeting for either of us.” Indicating her own furnishings, he added. “Will you sit? Shall I call for tea? I fear that this interview will be as long as it is to be painful.”
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