Tony gave him a condescending smile. “To pay my respects to Lady Hetty and ask for an introduction to Miss Westfall. I fancy a dance with a very small goat, and I expect to be quite charmed by her. Perhaps I’ll even marry her and give you more torment for your relations by marriage.”
He shrugged out of Hugh’s hold and strode away, making a direct path for Lady Hetty, who had always slightly terrified him, and for Miss Westfall, who looked as if everything terrified her. He pitied her, poor girl, and her friends had abandoned her yet again, save for Lady Hetty. He might have it in him to give her some enjoyment in the evening, provided she would not fear him. He could be imposing, with his somewhat towering height, but he’d been told he had a kind smile, and he prayed that was still the case.
Even so, he was a soldier, with duty and honor to uphold, he had the uniform to prove it, and if he could do a service to her, he would not feel his evening wasted.
And he would be lying if he said he was not a little curious about the Spinsters, whoever they were, and what they were about.
But that was another matter for another time.
He approached Lady Hetty with caution, a polite smile on his face. “Lady Hetty,” he said reverentially as he bowed before her. “It is an unexpected delight to see you again.”
She peered up at him, her dark eyes twinkling slightly. “Unexpected because you are surprised that you’ve missed me, or unexpected because I’m not dead?”
“Whichever makes you think better of me, madam.”
She wheezed a laugh. “Captain Sterling, you’ve not changed at all, and that’s a fine thing, for a change. Do you know Miss Westfall?” she asked, indicating the girl next to her.
“No, madam, but I would be quite pleased to make her acquaintance, if you’ll give me leave to do so.”
Chapter Three
First impressions are a tricky business. It often happens that what one sees is not, in fact, what one gets. Anyone can act for five minutes, and far too many do. The question is how accomplished an actor are they, and why are they acting a part? Take a second look, if not a third, and if a third is not enough, give them an impression in return to remember.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 17 July 1816
He’d read the page four times in an hour, and then a further three more times that afternoon, chuckling to himself at times, nodding in agreement at others. It was well written, each article possessing just the right amount of wit to keep it entertaining. It was hardly shocking, despite what Hugh had said. The lead column the week before had borne a completely different tone, one with far more cynicism, but when addressing the subject of conversation at balls, it was perfectly fitting.
And downright hilarious.
Between the two of them, and the few others he had managed to track down, he’d almost come to a decision. He needed further information, however. Which explained why Tony was now on the front step of his cousin’s home, debating whether he could actually go through with this. It would probably end up being far more than he bargained for, but with nothing better to do and no one to dissuade him, this was his best course of action.
He raised his hand to knock when the door opened, and he had to step back.
Hugh stood there, hat on his head and gloves in his hands, looking all-too surprised to have Tony on his front step. Then his brow furrowed, and he turned mulish. “Good day, cousin. Have you come to berate me further about my behavior, or have you procured a commission for me so that I might find the order and maturity that I seem to lack?”
Tony frowned at his cousin. “No…”
“Oh.” Hugh’s expression changed to one of mild confusion. “Then what brings you here?”
“I came to…” Tony winced, shaking his head. “I came to ask about the Spinsters,” he mumbled.
Hugh grinned slowly. “Ah, piqued your interest, have I? Well, you are in luck. I am about to attend a card party where all of them should be in attendance, and you shall accompany me.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Tony protested, hastily backing up. “Another time will do.”
“Not at all.” Hugh stepped out of the house and turned Tony in his direction. “The best way to learn about them is in person, and the sooner you begin the better.”
“I’m not agreeing to anything,” Tony warned him.
Hugh gave him a knowing look. “We’ll see about that.”
“I’m only curious.”
“Of course.”
“Because I read the column.”
“Naturally.”
“It raised questions.”
“I suspected it might.”
Tony frowned as Hugh entered the carriage. “I’m only asking for more information, Hugh.”
Hugh gave him a bemused smile. “Yes, I know. Get in, we’ll talk on the way.”
This was destined to be a very bad idea, but there was no help for it. Tony boarded and situated himself across from his cousin, sighing in resignation. “Whose card party is it?” he asked. “Will they mind an uninvited guest?”
“Not at all.” Hugh fussed at his berry-colored coat and gold waistcoat with a furrowed brow. “It’s Mrs. Wilton. She has three unmarried daughters, though only two would be considered of an eligible age. She’ll be quite delighted to see you.” He looked him over quickly, smirking. “Doubtless she will be disappointed at your lack of uniform, but there’s nothing to be done about that, and you look smart enough for a card party.”
Tony looked down at himself in confusion, not thinking there should be anything lacking in his general appearance. “Thank you, I suppose.” He narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “She’s not going to be insufferable about it, is she?”
Hugh shook his head quickly. “Not at all, Mrs. Wilton is the sanest mother of daughters I have ever met in my life. And her daughters are perfectly proper and respectable, pretty enough, and the fortune is admirable. A bit bland, but doubtless they liven up on better acquaintance.”
“Then why have the third out if she is so young and the mother not aggressive about marrying the girls off?” Tony asked. Really, was it not enough to have the trouble of two unmarried daughters? The complexities of Society and its concerns were overwhelming, and often unfathomable.
“As I understand it, the youngest Miss Wilton is determined and opinionated, rather unlike her sisters.” Hugh shrugged and looked out of the window. “She’s probably only out to avoid an all-out battle with her mother or sisters. I’d avoid that one, if you can.”
Tony shuddered. “I don’t need to have a child bride, thank you very much.”
That caught his cousin’s attention, and a sly smile appeared on his face. “Then what sort of bride would you like, Captain?”
Tony glared a warning at him. “One when I am ready, which is not at this moment.”
His words had no effect on his cousin’s expression. “Yet you want to know more about the Spinsters.”
Tony let the sounds of the carriage fill the silence, and then turned a sardonic look on him. “Would you like me to marry one of the Spinsters, Hugh?”
For a moment, his cousin looked pale and slightly ill. Then he laughed and retorted, “You’d never. They’re all tyrannical and interfering busybodies who can’t get husbands for themselves, and their bitterness about that has led to a campaign to prevent any young woman from anything remotely romantic. They’re all destined to be hags who huff and puff in the corners of ballrooms for the rest of their lives.”
“That’s very eloquently put,” Tony snorted. “Pity you didn’t have that passion and penchant for speech when you were in school, you might have received better marks.”
Hugh grinned rather smugly. “There is nothing like a cause to properly motivate a man to action.”
True, Tony thought. Very, very true.
But he doubted his cousin’s cause and his own would be the same. Unless Tony witnessed some great maneuvering in a military fashion from these women in a way that directly affected him, he had no intention
of putting a stop to anything. His cause right now was sheer curiosity and fascination. And for now, that was enough.
Most of the spinsters he had known in his life had been shy, retreating creatures; wallflowers who never danced; blatantly plain or sometimes downright unattractive women with nothing else to recommend them; heiresses with higher opinions of themselves than of any man who might have tried for them. To be perfectly blunt about it, he’d not known too many spinsters who were under the age of forty. But most of them shared one thing: they were all exceedingly bitter about their state. Very rarely, in his admittedly limited experience, had he met a spinster that seemed comfortable with her situation, if able to find humor in it. The Spinsters, and their articles, seemed to be proof that such women existed.
Why that should interest him, he couldn’t have said, but he couldn’t deny that it did.
His dance with Miss Westfall had certainly proven something along those lines. She was the same sort of timid creature that he would have expected her to be, and the sort that was understandably, if unfortunately, a spinster. Yet as he had spoken with her, and eventually obtained consent for a dance, she had proven to be just as sweet-tempered as any other shy creature he’d ever met, spinster or not. She had only found difficulty with her speech for the first few minutes of their association, and it had eventually tapered off into something he barely noticed, once she’d grown accustomed to him. The embarrassed flush on her cheeks never dissipated, but the smile he had coaxed from her by the end had only been the sweeter for it. She did not pity herself and had even praised his patience and stamina for enduring her, laughing when she’d done so. A girl like that would have made someone a most excellent wife, and certainly a loyal, devoted one.
Not him, she was not his sort, but certainly someone.
It actually perturbed him now that no one had done.
They pulled up to the Wilton’s address and were shown up to the card room with remarkable haste and energy, which made Tony doubt Hugh’s claims of a sensible mother in Mrs. Wilton.
Yet her greeting of them was perfunctory at best, though perfectly polite. Tony caught a hint of a scheming look in her eye, but no daughters of hers descended on him after he’d left her, which was a pleasant surprise.
He and Hugh wandered about the room, making polite conversation and introductions as needed, and then took up position near a tall window with sheer curtains.
“Right, then,” Tony muttered, sipping at the tea he’d been offered. “Point out these Spinsters and let’s get on with it.”
Hugh chuckled quietly and indicated a far table where four women sat. “Two of them are there. The red haired one is Isabella Lambert, generally thought of as being a good sort, but without beauty or fortune, she has no hopes.”
Tony frowned at that. Miss Lambert wasn’t at all unattractive, and he would never have said she was without beauty. Why, when she smiled, as she did now, she had a very pleasing countenance. She did not have the universal attractiveness and charm of her friend, Miss Wright, he would allow, but neither was she so very plain as for it to draw comment.
“To her left is Grace Morledge,” Hugh went on, evidently not having anything further to say with regards to Miss Lambert. “Daughter of Lord Trenwick. Fortune enough, pretty enough, and accomplished enough.”
Tony looked at his cousin in surprise. “So why is she a spinster?”
“No idea.” Hugh shrugged as if it made no difference to him. “She simply is.”
This was becoming increasingly confusing. By everything he could see, Miss Morledge was everything a young woman could wish to be, and the idea that there was something lacking in her enough to be a spinster seemed laughable. Surely, if she had faults enough to remain unmarried, Hugh would have known about them and informed Tony of their existence.
“Miss Westfall you already know,” Hugh went on, indicating her in the corner, her eyes lowered as if she had been scolded. “Timid creature, and that would be a paltry description.”
“Be kind, Hugh,” Tony warned. “I like the girl.”
Hugh gave him a sidelong look. “But you see why she is a spinster.”
He had to nod at that, but he did so grudgingly. “I only think higher of the rest of them for including her,” he muttered.
His cousin groaned in annoyance. “Don’t think kindly on them. Miss Westfall is a very good girl, I’ll grant you, but none of the rest of them can be trusted.”
Tony would not believe that, coming from Hugh, but he would remain silent about it. “And then Miss Wright, correct? Does she round out the lot?”
Hugh scowled and shook his head. “No, I only wish it were so easy. The one you need to worry about is that one right there.” He gestured unmistakably to a tall blonde woman in a green sprigged muslin, currently speaking with another woman, similar in appearance, though her hair was darker, and she was not as attractive.
“And she is?” he asked, watching her with interest.
“Georgiana Allen.” Hugh shuddered for effect, which was not called for. “She is the most tyrannical, and their leader. A shrew in the making, if ever I saw one. The woman she is speaking with is Emma Partlowe, who was formerly Emma Asheley, and she was one of the Spinsters, too, before her marriage last year.”
Tony glanced at his cousin quickly. “Partlowe? As in Thomas Partlowe?”
Hugh turned to him, mildly surprised. “You know him?”
He nodded, looking back at Miss Allen and Mrs. Partlowe. “I used to. We were at school together. I hadn’t heard he’d remarried.”
“Well, he has,” Hugh retorted as he turned back to scan the room, “and he chose the tamest of the lot. She is close friends with Miss Allen, so it really should have disrupted everything. Unfortunately, I think the Spinsters are only emboldened and embittered by the change. I’m surprised Miss Allen is actually talking with Mrs. Partlowe after such a betrayal.”
Hugh continued to ramble, but Tony ignored him to the best of his ability.
Miss Allen was a handsome woman, anyone could see that. He wouldn’t call her beautiful, that was not his place and he couldn’t see her well from his position. But she certainly was not plain, and there was a hint of a smile when she spoke that made her countenance rather pleasing. She paused whatever she was saying and looked across the room, her eyes narrowing.
Tony followed her gaze and saw Elliott Harker speaking to a young woman that seemed rather taken with him. Harker was from a good family, but he couldn’t have said if the man himself were someone of merit. The girl, however, looked a trifle too young for him, and by her looks, she was undoubtedly one of the Wilton daughters.
The youngest one, if he were to put money on it.
Even if Harker had been one of the best men in England, he would have balked at the idea of him courting a girl of fifteen. But flirtation was not courtship, and he would be very interested to see if Miss Allen or the Spinsters would react in any way.
It could be very telling.
Another girl sitting at the card table suddenly stood and made her way, very nonchalantly, towards them. No one else in the room would have noticed had they not been watching, but Tony smirked when the young woman, who could not possibly have been considered a spinster, came alongside the Wilton girl and began taking part in the conversation. There had been no command to act, no distress noted on any of the faces of any Spinster he had seen, yet the situation had been diffused before it had become anything at all. That was not to say that there would not be further encounters between Mr. Harker and Miss Wilton, but at least there would now be extra care taken with her.
Tony glanced back at Miss Allen, who was smiling more fully in her renewed conversation with Mrs. Partlowe, and that smile made him wonder. It was not a superior or smug smile. There was no haughtiness in it, nothing to suggest a vindictive nature or any sort of bitterness. She looked perfectly at ease, laughing now with her friend, who had, by all accounts, surpassed her in all worldly respects.
What sort of sp
inster was she? And why such a reputation for their group? What was their aim? Surely Society was not so far gone as to require guardians of feminine innocence and virtue such as they were portrayed to be. Why not leave the rest of the young ladies to their follies, whatever they were, and let the consequences follow?
Why involve themselves at all?
What bound such a diverse group of women together?
And why did all the men in London seem to despise them?
“I’ll do it,” Tony heard himself say.
“What was that?” Hugh asked absently.
“I’ll do it. I’ll investigate the Spinsters.” Tony nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Miss Allen while the rest of him filled with an odd sense of anticipation, rather like before a battle.
Hugh stood in front of him, eyes wide. “You’ll do it?”
Tony gave him another firm nod.
His cousin clasped his arms, looking far too jubilant at the prospect. “Tony, you have no idea how pleased this makes me.”
“I believe I have some,” he replied, stepping out of his hold. He gave Hugh a warning look. “Do not spread word of this, Hugh. I will stop at once if I am ever approached on the subject, mark my words.”
Hugh raised his hands in surrender. “They’re marked, they’re marked!”
Tony didn’t believe him for a second, but there wasn’t anything to be done about that. He exhaled sharply and looked back over at the Spinsters, who were dissipating into conversations with others present. “Now, what would be the best plan of attack, in your estimation?”
“Take out the leader.”
He glowered briefly at his too-eager cousin. “Yes, thank you, but how?”
“Oh.” Hugh frowned and turned to look across the room. “If you want to get to Miss Allen, you need to go through Miss Lambert.” Hugh nodded thoughtfully, a small smile on his face. “Yes, Miss Lambert would be the way.”
“Really?” Tony considered the copper-haired girl with the easy manners with interest. He wouldn’t have thought Miss Lambert to be so key in all of this, she seemed rather ambivalent in nature. “Why would that be?”
The Merry Lives of Spinsters Page 4
