"MEDHEL AN GWYNS," LADY DIANA BEAUMONT whispered softly under her breath, as she strolled down the calm street in her cream empire waist morning dress, over which, she wore her soft red spencer jacket. Soft is the wind. It was a Welsh saying she had grown up embedded in her skin, always there to remind her to find the pleasure in the simple—the light in the mundane. The crisp wind swept past her skirts and her hair, threatening everything to come apart, and as she held onto her bonnet against her head, Diana was reminded of her father's words over breakfast, which had included a rather bold, and presumptuous, prediction of a storm.

It was an early autumn day, and colors had already started shifting from bright to muted oranges and burnt reds around her. The usual hustle and bustle of the Southampton countryside felt like music to her ears, with the people's chatter mixed with bird songs in perfect rhythm. The air was largely pine cone scented, with a hint of everything else this particular part of England had to offer—whether it be the sweet smells of freshly brought in fabrics lining the tailors' shops, or the exotic incense that the foreign shopkeepers burnt in a display of their exoticism.

Lady Diana Beaumont cast smiles at all the passerbys acknowledging her; with the gentlemen tipping their top hats in greeting and some of the ladies offering her a wave each with their hastily gloved hands. Some ladies did more than just that, making use of quick feet to hurry on over to Diana's path and restricting their conversations to rushed dinner invitations or acknowledgements for her family—an aunt of hers or another. Diana pinned her best cordial smile on her face, with a mind to deter what seemed prudent to and accept what seemed acceptable. 

Lady Diana Beaumont's father, Lord Augustus Beaumont was a retired navy official and as a result of his service and fortune, owned the Bellevue Hall in Southampton. Her family estate had always been rather a popular ground in the county. Lord Augustus Beaumont's importance in society had deemed it to be so, all throughout Diana's two and twenty years of life.

Bellevue Hall, thus, marked one of the highlights of Southampton, it was somewhat of a county landmark, with the society referring to it countless times in conversations when explaining a certain someone their own address.

'Oh, I live just in front of Bellevue Hall.'

'Oh, haven't you seen Bellevue Hall? Yes, I live just two streets across it!' 

Diana had become so accustomed to her family home being mentioned in everyone's conversations, that sometimes she'd forget it really was her home they were referring to, and not a museum or public park of sorts. 

Despite her father's disapproval on her morning walk, Diana had still set out. Her morning walks were always one of her highlights of the week. Every time on each of her walks, she would go visit the sunflower fields. The gorgeous sunflower fields of Southampton were undoubtedly the best out of all of Hampshire. They spread out, stunning yellow hues of the flowers stretched for miles and miles, and the sun seemed to be setting into a bed of them, if you saw the scene from the hills. It was as though the fields shielded the ball of fire from the darkness, giving it strength until it was once again ready to dominate the sky. 

It had been a while since she stopped by the field. The last time she was there, it had been with her cousin, Lady Alicia Kirkpatrick, who was just as fond of the fields. In Lady Alicia's absence, Diana had no heart to venture out here without her, but exceptions had been made for the day, for Diana had been restless for far too long. 

As she approached the fields, she could spot the vibrant yellows of the sunflowers from a distance. Her heart filled with joy, as the nectary sweet pine infused air took hold of her senses and very soon she could not hear a word of the incident that Mrs. Hart—a very curious tenant of Diana's uncle Lord Seymour, who had apparently invited herself to join Diana shortly after the lady had set out on her walk—was narrating to her. As she kept on picking up her pace, and as Mrs. Hart struggled to keep up, Diana soon approached the fields and completely forgot about the unwelcome companion that had tagged along. 

Frustration threatened to ebb away at her, for she had sought solace for the day, but the violent feeling was defeated quickly. A mesmerized sigh escaped her lips upon the view. No matter how many times she saw it, she was always taken back by the beauty of it. As far as her ebony irises could see, the yellow gradient lay over the miles of land in her view. The sight was beautiful, exceptionally beautiful—reminiscent of a Rembrandt painting. 

"Oh, you're quite a runner," Mrs. Hart's pants filled Diana's ears in the silence, as the woman stroked her chest and tried to level her breathing. 

Diana blinked as realization struck root. Stepping out of her trance and straightening herself, she turned to her companion. 

"Oh, Mrs. Hart, I don't run." She offered sweetly, waging a war with the frustration threatening her inside, "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be heading home."

Lady Diana Beaumont had yearned for a just a glance of the fields that day, she still hadn't the heart to stay without Alicia, and now that she felt infused with irritation, the fields did not deserve to pay host to this side of her. If her cousin and confidante was present, they'd sit in the soft grass for hours, talking about anything and everything as they stroked the silken petals of the sunflowers. Amongst the yellow gradient, they'd be hidden from any unwanted company approaching them, giggling like school girls they wouldn't be afraid to dirty their linen dresses. Hidden in the flowers' sweet and bright embrace. It felt like they were but tiny bees, drowned in a sea of yellow. 

Mrs. Hart's smile twitched a little as she tried not to look confused, it was no wonder that half of the things Lady Diana said were taken just as they were intended, and it made Diana shift in the discomfort of the realization that she couldn't keep her implications to herself no matter how hard she tried to. 

"But what about the recommendation? I was hoping Lord Beaumont would oblige," Mrs. Hart uttered quickly, pivoting to face Diana who was about to walk off. 

"Of course, father would most certainly agree to recommend your son—," Diana broke off, her eyebrows raised as she looked towards the unwelcome companion in inquiry.

"Luke Hart," Mrs. Hart rushed, her smile showing all of her teeth all the way to the back molars at the sides, making Diana feel slightly uncomfortable. 

"Mr Hart," Diana repeated with a nod before continuing, "For the navy position he so hopes for, even though he seems to have little to no experience at all in the field." 

"Nevertheless, you mustn't give up hope," She added with a bright reassuring smile, which, surprisingly, did far from reassure the slightly shaken Mrs. Hart.  

Spinning away, Diana was slightly too late to realize that Mrs Hart hadn't actually spoken of her son having little experience in the field at all, the woman's conversation—that Diana had ignored most of—had on contrary been quite in Mr Luke Hart's favor. 

Returning homewards, she could not shake the view of the field out of her head, and she did not mind. Diana could not wait to tell her father and mother how beautiful the field was this morning, but she was afraid she'd get slightly scolded first. It was almost lunch time, and father had let her go with strict instructions to return back in an hour as she had left two hours before lunch. Diana had intended to, but Southampton ladies had quite the hunger for conversation and she had been stopped nearly more times than she could've counted on her way to the fields, some of it was entirely in blame to her own self as some shop displays just could not simply be passed by without adequate admiration and compliments to the shopkeeper.

Her father's displeased face was the last thing Diana wanted to see today, so she quickened her pace, her hands holding up her cream muslin skirts as she climbed the steps to Bellevue Hall. Her estate was a huge rectangular and beautiful milk cream colored building with bright purple wisteria climbers starting from the ground and spreading across the cream walls.

The gorgeous wisteria framed one window beautifully in particular, out of all the other numerous windows. That window was Lady Diana Beaumont's bedroom window. She had taken the highest room in the house in hopes of waking up to the view of the whole city every day. Diana could see almost everything from that window, from the shops opening, to Mrs. Hart running around paying early calls around the neighborhood in hopes of getting a favor out of almost everyone. 

Diana shut the thought out. She had acquired quite the habit of judgement, and it was one thing of herself she was desperately working to remedy. 

She smiled; everything in her life was perfect, besides. She had a house that she loved, she was born in a county she adored and she had a happy family. In the countless books she'd read over the years, Diana had realized that things did not always remain as they were. Change was inevitable, and she knew that, but Diana wanted to make the most of her life as it was before she was taken by surprise. 

"Diana, you almost missed lunch, did I not remind you to return early?" Lord Augustus Beaumont's deep baritone welcomed her as he peeked over the newspaper he was reading in the drawing room. His eyes stern slits.

A maid quickly approached her and helped her take her bonnet off. Walking inside the drawing room, she was met by her mother and father. Her mother, Lady Ruth Beaumont, sat seated on the sofa, knitting, and her father was in a velvet arm chair beside; a picture perfect couple at the heart of the family. 

"Father, I'm sorry, I'll be more punctual next time," Diana apologized, a playful pout played on her lips as she glanced at a clock and realized she was just in time. There was no alternative ending to the present, what had happened, had happened, there was no concept of something almost happening, it was just something people made up.

Putting down the newspaper, Lord Beaumont sighed, already giving in and not being able to hold his own against his eldest. "It's alright, sweetheart."

There was no reprimand in his eyes or manner, just a fond defeatedness that he wore like a cloak when faced with either of his daughters. 

Then he called out for the butler swiftly, to put out the lunch on the table in the dining room and fetch the remaining Beaumont daughters, Henrietta and Mary Ann, who were, most likely, busy doing absolutely nothing productive in their respective bedrooms. Mornings were rarely productive in the Bellevue household, despite how much Diana and her mother tried to remedy that. 

"After lunch, Diana, your aunt Margaret is coming to visit with her family," The Lady Beaumont spoke, a brow raised in an attempt to catch both her husband and eldest daughter's attentions. 

The Lady Margaret Seymour was one of the elder sisters of Lady Ruth Beaumont, and her presence was one quite fussed over and appreciated in equal measure. Diana could go on talking to her for hours on end, and though their conversational topics ranged from socially acceptable to only family acceptable, Diana loved every moment of her aunt's visit.

Aunt Margaret had always been a really good aunt to Diana and her sisters; she was kind, gentle and always very humorous. But then again, all her aunts and cousins were fabulous creatures, each standing out in their own way. Regardless of how adored Lady Margaret Seymour was, it was her family—Diana's Seymour cousins—that always proved to be quite the challenge. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Lunch was very fulfilling, just like dinner; Lord Augustus Beaumont always liked it that way. Even if no guests were expected, he always asked the butler, Mr Baldwin, to make the dining table look as though guests were indeed expected. Being unprepared in case of surprise company, was far from Lord Beaumont's capabilities. 

After lunch, the family assembled in the west drawing room of Bellevue Hall, waiting to be called upon by Lady Margaret Seymour and her family. At a quarter past two, a carriage was heard arriving just outside the windows and as soon as it came to a halt, sounds of footsteps and chatter replaced the silence.

"They have arrived! Let me go and greet them," Lady Beaumont exclaimed, dropping her knit work on the room carpet as she stood up in excitement.

Such a reaction was not because Lady Margaret Seymour was scarcely a visitor; in fact she was a very frequent visitor. So frequent, that Diana once recalled such a month in which her aunt had visited Bellevue Hall every day.

"Calm yourself, my dear. Baldwin will bring them right here like he always does," Lord Beaumont responded, motioning for his wife to remain seated on the sofa. The idea of exchanging heavy pleasantries with someone who pays a visit almost every day seemed rather tiring and pointless to him.

Mary Ann, who seemed lost in admiring and playing with her porcelain china doll, suddenly seemed to come out of her trance.

Anxiously peeking out the window for her aunt she let out, "Mother, may I go out on a walk? Auntie is awfully chatty, I am afraid she'll bore me to death."

Lady Beaumont made a look of apparent disapproval at her daughter's remark.

"Is that any way to talk about your aunt, Mary Ann? And besides, you are only thirteen and you cannot go outside without a chaperone and your sisters are going to stay here to keep your cousins company."

Henrietta, who was doing absolutely nothing except being seated on the seat beneath the window, shrugged nonchalantly upon overhearing her duties for the day.

Henrietta was nothing like her other sisters; in fact none of them were like each other. The only similarities they had were their hair, their skin and their eye colors. All of the three sisters had raven black hair, a fair skin tone and dark brown eyes that were almost black. Diana was the eldest, being two and twenty years of age, she was also the most refined out of all her sisters, at least that was what Lady Beaumont preferred to point out when talking of her eldest's accomplishments. Henrietta was eighteen and Mary Ann was but thirteen.

Henrietta's was perhaps the most reckless though temperamentally bold when dealing with things that concerned her particular interests. 

"Oh no, Mother please. I am sure Diana can accompany me, you will, won't you Diana?" Mary Ann insisted turning towards her eldest sister, her eyes already glassy to support her predicament. 

Being the youngest in the family, Mary Ann was always attentive to certain things. She knew which sister she had to look up to, and which sister she had to avoid the influence of. As life would have it, Mary Ann was a constant follower of her eldest sister's regulations, which of course became a very tedious feat to the latter sometimes. 

Diana sighed and smiled at her little sister's persistence.

"You know I would Mary Ann, but I have to stay here." Watching her little sister's face drop in disappointment, she added, "Which also means that I can make some apple tart and plum pudding for supper, if you would like me to, that is."

Mary Ann's face lit up as though she had swallowed a thousand fire flies. "Yes please!"

Lord Beaumont smiled and shook his head; he loved how his daughters could cheer up just by the thought of puddings and tarts. When Diana had wanted to learn how to cook and bake, he had been hesitant. He could not understand why his eldest daughter would want that, when she could just ask the house cook and he'd make breakfast or dinner for her. Now, the Beaumont family was so struck with Diana's handmade apple tarts and plum puddings that they'd either have her make them, or have none at all.

The drawing room door opened and Mr Baldwin came in.

"Presenting Lord and Lady Seymour, Lord Seymour, Lord Seymour and the Lady Seymour."

"Well, that never gets tiring to one's ear I tell you," Henrietta murmured, taking to her feet and brushing her skirts off nonchalantly. 

Before Mr Baldwin could leave the room after announcing the guests, the guests themselves rushed into the drawing room from behind him, almost knocking the poor man off his feet.

"Oh my dear Ruth, how are you? It has been rather a long time since I've seen you," Lady Margaret exclaimed, rushing towards Lady Beaumont and embracing her.

Lady Margaret looked just like Lady Beaumont. They both had the same features, the brown hair, the brown eyes, the dip in their cheeks when they smiled, how thin their eyes would go when they laughed. 

Diana even had some really embarrassing memories of mistaking Lady Margaret for her mother when she was a child, memories she better liked unspoken, but of course that was not sufficient enough to stop Lady Margaret from ever mentioning them again.

"Oh, I daresay, it has probably been a week," Henrietta commenced, for which she received some looks of disapproval by both her mother and her elder sister.

The Lord Seymour and his children however, did not share the same enthusiasm of Lady Margaret's. Lord Seymour, being a man of five and fifty, was more of a quiet kind of person. He, after greeting Lady Beaumont, made his way towards her husband and then carefully seating himself down, struck up a rather professional conversation about Southampton's politics.

Lord Beaumont and Lord Seymour agreed upon many things and the stupidity of these frequent visits was one of them.

The Seymour children, apparently, were always forced by Lady Margaret to accompany her to Bellevue Hall every time she went. The eldest of them was Lady Rebecca Seymour, a lady of eight and twenty. She was fair and polite at some times and sported a completely opposite countenance the next. She had black eyes and curly brown hair, which she kept in a nearly neat up do. It had been some years since she came out into society but because of the apparent lack of luck in the matrimonial category, Lady Margaret had made it her duty to take her daughter along on every morning call she made or social events she attended.

Two years younger than Rebecca was Adam Seymour, who was much like his father, quiet and rarely made any conversation. He was a little stout and quite definitive of opinion, and his looks were mediocre; so much so, that no member of the family had ever bothered to comment on them. Which left the gentleman quite hassle free from a usual man's troubles on juggling compliments and criticisms. 

The youngest Seymour son was Oscar Seymour, who, being three and twenty, just a year older than Diana, was the opposite of his older brother. He was a polished and confident gentleman, perhaps a little too confident and polished for his own good. One could definitely argue that the gentleman had accumulated too much polish, so much so that it seemed to be stuck on to his form like a thick humid layer of greasy, transparent gel. 

Oscar Seymour had the honor of being considered the most handsome in his family with his ruffled short black hair, black eyes and his witty charm and humor. Though the latter flattery he liked to afford unto himself. 

Aside from associating himself with such characteristics, Oscar Seymour nested a rather amusing crush on his cousin, Lady Diana Beaumont, of which, the latter was perfectly aware and harbored sentiments that deflected Oscar's own.  

"Diana darling, why don't you take dear Oscar and Adam for a stroll around the garden? Rebecca can stay here, she must be awfully tired from the journey. Henrietta will accompany you. I'm afraid all our old talk will terribly wear you young ones out," Lady Ruth Beaumont's voice came, bringing Diana out from her thoughts. 

She smiled and nodded, while simultaneously sighing and groaning inside. She did not particularly like spending time with Oscar. Conversations with Adam would always tended to get too political and would bore her, but they were bearable as compared to the conversation Oscar offered. All the younger Seymour brother liked to talk about, was himself. She loved both of them, for they were family, but she honestly could not stand either of them some times. She motioned for Adam and Oscar to follow behind as she walked out the room and towards the gardens of Bellevue.

Knowing Henrietta, Diana was sure her sister would engage herself in something else rather than accompanying her with the Seymour brothers in the gardens. She wondered what it felt like often times, to have an older sibling take charge so you didn't have to lift a finger. But still, she hoped and prayed Henrietta would display common courtesy and if not that; sympathy for Diana, to show up.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

"It is an exceptionally lovely day today, I must say," Oscar started, as they walked slowly through the Bellevue gardens.

His voice was always sharp and thick, as though he was issuing summons instead of complimenting the weather. 

The sun was now barely in sight and the evening clouds had taken over. The soft breezes gushing through the gardens made every plant and flower flutter as though they were dancing. The whole scene, with a pure blue sky, vibrant colored flowers lining both sides of the brown garden path they were walking upon, and their own figures with Diana dressed in a soft blush muslin dress and the Seymour brothers in their black coats and cream cravats, made a sight worthy of a painting.

Diana had silently led the brothers into the gardens, but as she had no particular topic to discuss, she had kept silent and hoped for one of the brothers to start the conversation. She was sure though, that Oscar would be the first to do so as she hardly had any expectations of that sort from Adam Seymour. Who had, as she noticed, now stopped and indulged himself in observing some vibrant blue forget-me-nots on the side of the garden path way, claiming that he hadn't seen this particular new addition to the gardens yet. 

"Yes it really is. I appreciated the day more fondly on my walk this morning," She found herself speaking to Oscar Seymour at her side, turning away from the scene.

Now walking the brown garden path were only she and Oscar, who was indeed the last person she'd want to spend company alone with.

"A walk?" Oscar Seymour inquired, his alarmed gaze resting on Diana's face, "In this wind?" 

"Yes," Diana smiled, "I rather liked the feel of it on my skin." 

"Goodness, Diana," Oscar shook his head, "I see you are as intent on putting yourself in harm's way as you ever were." 

"And I see you're as exaggerative as you ever were," She couldn't help but laugh. Of course, Oscar wouldn't approve of her reckless endeavors, but she hadn't set out to seek his approval in the first place. Besides, his ability to talk as if they hadn't been in each other's company just two weeks ago at his family's estate, was quite humorous. 

"It was just a breeze." 

Diana had also seen Lady Margaret's family just this past Sunday at church. Oscar had cornered her into a walk at her departure too. Diana shrugged the feeling off. It was small feats like this, his mentions of her never changing childhood will, that highlighted the amusing crush he harbored. 

Oscar didn't respond, clearly not impressed by her answer. His eyes dropped to his steps, before setting ahead on the garden path. His silence felt accusatory, and Diana was obliged to break it. 

"You know I love to take walks," She said softly, trying to justify herself. It was true she didn't set out to seek her cousin's approval, but she didn't want to not have the shadow of it entirely either.  

Oscar scoffed. "And you know I love to play cards." 

His cousin laughed then, and she was glad for the jest.

"But you kept losing your share!" She managed between laughs, thinking of the time she had lectured him on one of his losses. 

He smiled, eyes falling onto her again. "Well, I had to learn the hard way." 

"Alright then," Diana declared, putting her hands together in a clap and shooting him a sly smile.

 "I should aspire to learn the hard way as well. Were I to fall in a ditch, or actually catch a proper chill, I should cease my walks immediately. Happy?" 

"Let us hope it doesn't come to that," Oscar answered, alarmed. "I wouldn't want to rejoice on the prospect of either of the options you have just mentioned." 

Walking on the path, they had reached the garden bench. The garden bench was a beautiful wooden bench with an intricate Egyptian inscription design that Diana's father had especially got made for her on her twentieth birthday. Since then, she had come down everyday just to read here. Two tall yew trees stood beside each end of the bench and beautiful flowers surrounded it. It was haven somehow, something entirely for her and to her. 

Oscar and Diana sat down; with Diana taking special care of the distance between them. 

"Well, what else was your day composed of besides your morning walk?" Oscar inquired again, leaning his back against the bench and looking at Diana with a curious look in his eyes.

"Oh, I barely had time to do anything else today. My day only consisted of the walk I suppose," Diana replied with a little chuckle. 

"And us, too. I hope you consider us as a part of your day," Oscar added, with his eyebrow raised and an almost teasing smirk spread across his face.

Diana, immediately noticing her mistake and dreading being considered rude, implied, "Yes, of course."

Oscar nodded and then a silence followed. Diana, with a smile planted on her face, looked around taking in the beauty of the gardens. Oscar however, fiddled with his cravat knot making sure it wasn't out of place. Diana could see him fixing all other aspects of his attire from the corner of her eye. Ever since she knew him, she knew he always had a high regard for the way he looked and dressed himself.

Lord Oscar Seymour was the Beau Brummell of the Seymour family, or perhaps the entire Southampton. Following in the London icon's fashion footsteps, Oscar had established himself as the most fashionable gentleman in the area. He in his exceptionally well-fitting and hand-tailored bespoke suits and a contemporary dress shirt accessorized with a cravat, he had become a sight for all of the people of Southampton.

"On a more important subject, Mother is preparing for a ball at Mansfield estate later this week. I do hope you will attend," Oscar stated clearing his throat and in turn breaking the silence. His face turned towards Diana, his peering brown eyes gazed into hers, as if predicting a response.

This would be the first ball arranged by Aunt Margaret for this year, Diana thought. Her aunt had made it a tradition to host extravagant balls as frequent as can be. As far as anyone could recall, none of the balls hosted at Mansfield estate in the last five years had any particular occasion for celebration except to attract suitors for Lady Rebecca Seymour, and perhaps for all of Lady Margaret Seymour's nieces as well.  

Diana had come out in society at one of her aunt's balls, and so had all her cousins. 

It seemed to Diana that Aunt Margaret had only bought Mansfield estate for the sole purpose of arranging balls and parties. After all, what better way to get a gentleman's attention then in a pretty gown adorned with jewels in a setting equally blinding with music drifting through the halls at the turn of the night? 

"Of course," She smiled as she responded.

Her answer seemed to relieve Oscar greatly as he then asked, "Splendid, should I be as hopeful as to expect two dances with you then?"

Oscar's crush was a mere fancy. He lacked every manner and thought that came along with such a notion. His attentions were not genuine to her but to himself, and sometimes Diana wondered if he had something to prove, for which only she could be useful. 

But he was her cousin, he was a part of her family and she wouldn't ever want to hurt him. Her aunts had always, in conversations too frank, told Alicia and Diana that men always needed to be fueled in everything, and something that could make or break them was always a lady's respect. With each attention Oscar offered to her over the years, Diana's will to discourage them had also increased, but her respect and loyalty to family had always won over her. 

"If I am in the mood to dance, then I will hopefully oblige to your request, Oscar," Diana answered, "Now, I must be getting back, I have some apple tarts and plum puddings to make."

Getting up, she gently straightened her muslin skirts with her hands, turned to face Oscar, who was still seated and did a gentle bow, before turning around to leave.

As he watched her leave, Oscar could not help but roll his eyes once she was out of view. There were some things of his cousin's likes and dislikes he disapproved of, and her cooking needlessly despite having a family cook and staff to serve, was one of them. 

Unlike other gentlemen of his acquaintance, Oscar Seymour knew what he wanted. Going through trifles of love and courting was not something made for him, for he hadn't ever met somebody worth the trouble, and even if he were to meet someone, who's to say the acquaintance would not turn to disappoint him later?

His cousin, Lady Diana Beaumont fell much close to his marks. She fit his carefully curated categories and he was aware of her character and faults. Surely he was the master of his own fate, and it was a respectable fate he was after. Thus, Lord Oscar Seymour had his entire future planned, down to the frilly details, and his cousin just had to accept her role in it. He was giving her time to, wasn't he? 

***

A/N:
hi! you won't be seeing author's notes in this book except this one but I'm just popping in to say that I wrote this book when I was 15! (7 years ago now) It is not my best work and its super embarrassing for me to have this book up lmao, but some of the readers like it so its still here! Please understand that I do not take constructive critisism on this book. Thank you.