A Christmas Cotillion

it was clear to Jonathan that they had already gone their separate ways well before their physical parting. It was just that at the time, under so much pressure, he simply couldn’t perceive that. Jonathan loved Sebastian, there was no question of that, but he was also deeply committed to his family’s well-being and security. Unlike Sebastian, he did not grudge his uncle’s widow the need of his time and services. She and the children were his only remaining relatives, after all.
Also, in truth, if he was honest with himself as he dared not be with his lover, he did not want to leave the farm to another’s supervision, even if he could have afforded that. He felt a need to do the necessary restorations on the property for and by himself and was eager to get stuck into the hard physical work that entailed.
The countdown to Sebastian’s departure continued irrevocably. When the dreaded day came, his trunks packed, he stood before Jonathan while putting on his gloves, looking as beautiful as ever, but colder, more remote. “Of course, you can stay here until the end of the month, when the lease ends. Everything is paid in full,” he said dismissively, in a matter of fact manner that was so at odds with his usual impetuous warmth.
Jonathan had stammered something incoherent, desperately trying to express his devotion, thanks, indebtedness, loss, and regret.
At that, Sebastian had turned to him, looked him fully in the eyes for one last time and saying, “Well, you have made your choice. I wish you happy with it.” And then finally, with savage bitterness, “I now comprehend that you just didn’t love me enough.”
Those final words were like a frozen dagger through Jonathan’s heart. For the remainder of his time in London, the apartment seemed empty without Sebastian’s vibrant presence and those last hurtful words echoed through his head again and again.
He settled his meagre debts and remaining town accounts easily enough and set off for the remote property where he threw himself into rebuilding the farm. The fact that one evening before his departure, a casual friend had told him that Sebastian was not alone in his travels, just increased his misery.
He took a reflective sip of brandy. I buried myself in my work, my home, my family. But in retrospect, was that such a bad decision? Duty and responsibility could be hard taskmasters, but they had their own rewards. He had a flourishing farm with a soundly rebuilt house, his cousins were thriving, and his aunt had a more than adequate income through his efforts.
On the outside, his life was fulfilled and even modestly successful. He drew great satisfaction from his dogged endeavours. So why do I feel so very empty? he thought, swirling his glass again, the remaining drops of brandy clinging to the sides.
He had heard news of Sebastian from time to time over the intervening years. Just casual snippets from mutual friends, thrown in along with other gossip of the university crowd. As far as Jonathan was aware, he was still travelling abroad with a succession of ever-younger male companions. Jonathan wondered if he was content in his unsettled existence, journeying restlessly from country to country, with a stream of fresh faces and new lovers passing through his life?
He truly hoped so and wished him no ill. He only wished that one day his own heart would stop aching for what he had lost. Perhaps Sebastian was right, and this purgatory was fit punishment for carelessly having thrown their love away.
He sat there lost in thought for a while longer until he heard the distant slam of an outside door and the ring of youthful voices. He dragged his mind back from the sorrows of the past to the enjoyment of the present and roused himself out of his comfortable chair to join the others.

Chapter 6
The next few days were a social whirl, with many more local people, young and old, joining the existing crowd for nightly parties. The spacious reception rooms were increasingly crowded and rang with laughter and chatter. As many of their guests were leaving before the New Year, the Grants made this an excuse for an excess of jollity in the week following Christmas Day.
Jonathan was obliged to make up a four in the card games with the older visitors in a downstairs parlour which had been designated as a card room, at least for an evening or two. Although he did not mind this at all, it did mean that he was unable to get his chance to engineer Mr. Hammond and Belinda to have a dance together.
Rather than lingering amongst the dancers, Mr. Hammond cheerfully joined his elders. He was buttonholed to partner a rather crabby and profoundly deaf dowager which he did with grace and humour, never seeming to tire of shouting in her ear when she ordered him to speak up or of taking the blame for their subsequent losses.
The more time Jonathan spent in his company, the more he realised what a very nice man he was. He was resolved to try and ease Mr. Hammond into the group of youngsters where he felt sure, after initial bashfulness, his good nature would be appreciated.
However, on the third night, when he was not required in the card room and he returned to the main reception room, Jonathan saw that the atmosphere had changed amongst the dancers, as a result of the influx of young people from the neighbourhood. The Grants had responded to this by bolstering their helpers amongst the guests, so it felt like New Year’s already, when servants mingled freely amongst their masters.
It was a delight to watch a young lady with an ancient title laughingly dancing with the son of a cowherd, and other such refreshing ease of social norms. Jonathan could not help but notice the attractive farmer’s son, adeptly serving refreshments or joining the dancers, without needing any direction from the Grant family. In the bustle, Jonathan could