The Merry Lives of Spinsters

by Rebecca Connolly

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 4 August 1815

  “Oh, lord, her mother chose her ensemble.”

  “Don’t you dare say anything, Charlotte Wright.”

  “As if I would. Poor little Prudence would faint clear away if one of us said a word about it. Never mind that others will say all sorts of things.”

  “I don’t very well care what anybody else says about our Prue, but we must do what we can about that.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think she could look so ill. Not with her complexion.”

  “And I wrote that nasty piece about orange. Everybody’s going to pay attention now. Curse my sharp tongue.”

  Georgie stared at Prue shamelessly, as did everybody else in the room. It truly was the most horrid shade of orange she had ever seen, and it put Mrs. Renfrew’s ensemble quite to shame. And Prue’s cheeks were flaming already, which only made everything worse.

  Despite Prue’s diminutive stature, her mother was anything but. They could not have been more different in appearance and in nature, and Mrs. Westfall had the utmost contempt for her daughter, but nobody knew why. There were no other children, and Mr. Westfall had been dead for years. But rather than cling to her daughter, Mrs. Westfall had turned tyrannical, and there was no apparent end in sight.

  Mrs. Westfall wore a dark shade of blue, far more flattering to her coloring, and she paraded about the room with a preening sort of look. Prue followed behind dutifully, her eyes lowered, unable to look at anyone. But she could not have missed the whispers or the snickering of those around her.

  Georgie certainly didn’t miss them.

  She heard every single one of them.

  “Lord have mercy,” Izzy whispered next to her, sounding choked up and emotional. “Please let the dancing begin or someone else do something foolish.”

  Georgie nodded without speaking. She couldn’t have managed a word herself.

  She noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and her breath caught as she saw Tony striding forward, dressed in pristine eveningwear. He had the audacity to bow to Mrs. Westfall, to whom he had not actually been introduced.

  She looked up at him with her usual haughtiness, her face turning mottled.

  Georgie would have given a fortune to hear what Tony was saying, but he was too far away, and not even Mrs. Westfall could manage a volume that would reach across the room.

  “What is he doing?” Charlotte muttered under her breath. “Marjorie is going to pop off his head.”

  “Hush, Charlotte,” Izzy hissed, waving a hand at her.

  Georgie watched intently, ignoring the way Charlotte called Prue’s mother by her given name. She was always saying that when Mrs. Westfall behaved as the mother of Prue ought, she would give her the courtesy of her proper address.

  She could hardly blame Charlotte for that, but she could not bring herself to do the same.

  Impossibly, Mrs. Westfall’s expression cleared, and she turned to her daughter, quite literally dragging Prue forward.

  Georgie bit back a smile as Tony bowed to her and extended his hand.

  “Take it, Prue,” Charlotte hissed. “Come on and take it.”

  “Her mother will crown her if she doesn’t,” Izzy muttered. “Come on, Prue.”

  Georgie wasn’t minding Prue as much as she was Tony. Was he truly so bold as to stand before an entire room of whispering gossips and take the hand of the most timid creature of them all? He didn’t seem the slightest bit put off by Mrs. Westfall, nor by Prue’s hesitation. Instead, his hand only seemed to grow more and more steady, his intent constant.

  Prue needed consistency. And patience, understanding, warmth…

  In short, everything her mother was not.

  Prue’s trembling hand reached out and took his, and he was quick to whisk her away, leading her towards the line that was forming for the first dance of the evening.

  Charlotte exhaled noisily, fanning herself quickly. “Well, that was smartly done of Tony. Prue’s going to be a stammering storm the entire time, and undoubtedly after they’re done. Izzy, go see if Lady Hetty has arrived yet and make sure there’s a chair for her. Georgie, find Grace, she’s always managed to set Prue to rights.”

  Georgie wrenched her gaze away from Prue and Tony, dancing rather well, if silently, and looked at Charlotte with a raised brow. “And what will you do, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte dimpled a smile at her, her dark eyes twinkling. “Distract everyone from Prue’s ensemble.”

  “Oh, Charlotte,” Izzy moaned, “don’t do anything foolish!”

  Charlotte scoffed loudly. “Oh, sweet Izzy, haven’t you learned by now? I never do anything foolish. I always know exactly what I am doing.” She nodded at them both and glided away, heading directly for a small group of gentlemen, all of whom watched her cream and gold swathed figure approach with interest.

  “What do you think she’s going to do?” Izzy hissed to her, fidgeting with her blue muslin that was two seasons old.

  Georgie shook her head slowly, watching the dance again. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Izzy, and I am glad for it.” She sighed, allowing herself to smile more. “I think we’d better prepare a spot for Prue. She looks done for already.”

  Izzy chuckled a little. “She looks better away from her mother, and if Tony is half the man I think he is, Prue will actually smile. In public.”

  With a small hum of satisfaction, Izzy turned and headed off in another direction.

  Georgie stayed where she was, despite Charlotte’s instructions. Grace was about somewhere, and she would take note of Prue’s distress easily enough and come all on her own. Elinor would flutter about trying to do something useful, but only make more of a fuss.

  All of that could transpire as it would, and Georgie wouldn’t care overly much.

  She watched Tony dance with Prue, smiling as warmly as he might have done with any other young woman, one without a terribly unbecoming dress and a terribly unflattering mother. He danced well, which must always be appreciated, and no one would ever have suspected that a rescue had taken place. Prue did not talk much under usual circumstances, but when dancing she was sometimes worse.

  Not this time.

  Her embarrassed flush was rapidly fading, and Tony kept up a steady stream of words, though none of them could be heard over the music. Prue looked more at ease than Georgie had seen her in months, if not years. She had never known that Prue was such a lively dancer, nor would she have expected it.

  Had Tony known that, too?

  He couldn’t have. As far as she knew, he’d only danced with Prue once, shortly after meeting her, and she would not have been so comfortable with him then.

  Georgie would never claim to know much of men, but she had never met one who acted the part of a true gentleman with a good heart and pure motives. Not even Grace’s brothers, or her cousins, could fall into that category.

  She’d always wanted someone to prove that such men really existed outside of the overblown imaginations of young ladies, but she never thought she would actually find one. Truthfully, she was not entirely convinced that Tony was such a man either, nor could she claim that he was some grand epitome of gentlemen. All she knew was this was a good deed, and she was feeling something rather significant about it.

  If it was sincere.

  And she intended to find that out the moment Prue was secure in Lady Hetty’s care.

  She glanced across the room to see Izzy chatting warmly with Lady Hetty, who watched the dance with an almost wistful expression, despite the customary frown she wore. But she nodded at something Izzy was saying and answered accordingly, making Izzy laugh. Grace was already hovering behind them, a vision in a rose-colored gown, yet nobody seemed to take notice.

  Georgie would never understand how Izzy and Grace had escaped the notice of every man in England, given their caring natures and warm hearts, not to mention their pleasant features and possession of all the fine accomplishments of young ladies. They would each have made any man a
perfect and charming wife.

  But that was another set of cares for a different time.

  The dance finished to general applause, and the musicians started to converse about the next piece as the dancers dispersed. Georgie watched Tony and Prue, who moved to the chairs near Lady Hetty, purposefully situated in the exact opposite direction from her mother. Prue looked as contented as she ever was, perhaps the slightest bit self-conscious, but perfectly comfortable on Tony’s arm.

  And then she smiled.

  Good heavens.

  Georgie looked over at Izzy in shock, who had seen it and was barely containing her own smile of pride. Prue smiling in public was not a completely foregone conclusion at any given time. Usually, however, she smiled only when surrounded by the rest of them or when Lady Hetty had said something particularly witty. Never, as far as Georgie could recall, had it happened in the presence of a man.

  She wasn’t sure she liked this, but she was also near to tears.

  The conflict of emotions and impulses was setting everything awry.

  Tony saw Prue seated next to Lady Hetty, who said something to him that made Tony grin. He responded, bowed to each of the girls, and then left them all, heading in Georgie’s direction.

  Well, not in her direction specifically, but generally speaking.

  Georgie moved quickly to intercept him before he could do anything else.

  He saw her coming, took in her expression, which she had not thought to be so very imposing, and heard him groan as she approached. “Oh, now what? What could you possibly disapprove of now?”

  It was all Georgie could do to avoid making a very unattractive face at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  Tony lifted one of his brows at her, making her envious that she could not reciprocate the motion. “You are determined to find fault with me, despite my having absolutely no ulterior motives, and I really am growing quite fatigued with defending myself at every turn. Might I spare myself the trouble of this conversation?”

  Georgie was fully aware that people were staring at them, no doubt wondering what the dashing Captain Sterling would do after dancing with Miss Westfall, but she could not make herself move. “No,” she said firmly. “No, you may not.”

  He sighed a little too dramatically and tilted his head at her. “Then would you, perhaps, accompany me to the north corner of this ballroom? There is a footman with beverages there, and I would very much like one.”

  She scowled up at him but nodded and turned to proceed with him in that direction. “Do you have to sound so polite about it? Anyone hearing you would think me a shrew.”

  “I am always polite, Miss Allen,” Tony replied with ease, clasping his hands behind his back. “I find it to be the mark of an exemplary gentleman.”

  Georgie looked up at him in disbelief. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  “No, really, I do feel that way.”

  She rolled her eyes, knowing he was deliberately provoking her, and hating how good he was at it. “I’m sure you do, but it does not follow that you are always polite. That is what I doubt. Especially given our acquaintance.”

  “And yet you introduce me to nearly everyone,” he mused, looking thoughtful. “Clearly you must have some good opinion of me, or you would not be nearly so keen.”

  “It is because I pity you,” Georgie snapped, keeping a bland smile on her face for the benefit of those watching. “Poor, pathetic creature you are, and in such want of friends and associates.” She tsked and shook her head sadly. “It is almost more than my generous heart can bear.”

  Tony snickered under his breath, coughing into a gloved hand slightly, then turned a warm smile to her. “Generous heart. That is exactly how I would describe you, Miss Allen. Please, ask me your questions.”

  Georgie shook her head, exhaling in what was almost irritation, but not quite. “Why did you dance with Prue?”

  “Because I like her.”

  “We all like her, Captain,” Georgie reminded him firmly.

  “Yes, but it would be odd for any of you to dance with her at an event like this.”

  She had to try her utmost to avoid covering her face with her hand. “You know what I mean.”

  “Oh!” Tony said, as if the realization had only just dawned on him. “Oh, why did I go to her almost immediately after her entrance and practically steal her away from her mother?”

  Georgie gave him a patient nod.

  He straightened up a little. “Well, it seemed the thing to do. Everybody was just staring and whispering, and I know how sensitive Prue is. My feet were moving before I had really thought about it, so I can only say it was my first instinct.”

  Instinct. His instinct had been to go to Prue and save her from her embarrassment.

  Her heart gave a weak flutter in her chest, which she quickly shushed.

  “What is her mother like?” Tony murmured, lowering his voice, though his expression remained perfectly composed. “I have a fair idea, but I want to hear it from you.”

  “Well,” Georgie started, exhaling quickly, “that could take quite a long time, and the language required might not be entirely appropriate for such a distinguished setting.”

  Tony laughed. “Try.”

  She smirked, inclining her head at her aunt Faith, who watched her with a suspicious expression. “Mrs. Westfall has the sort of personality that makes one wish for a firearm.”

  Tony coughed in surprise, putting his fist to his mouth, though the curve of his lips could still be seen.

  Georgie nodded, smiling. “She berates Prue whenever she can, in public or out of it, and can be heard to complain quite vocally about everything that is wrong in her life. If you are so fortunate as to converse with her, you will find that there is nothing that is going well. Particularly not with her eligible daughter, whom she finds to be the very worst trial of all.”

  Tony grumbled under his breath unintelligibly, but the meaning was clear.

  “Quite,” Georgie quipped, looking over at Mrs. Westfall, who sat in a chair with a cup of punch that was clearly not her first, and was watching Prue with distaste. “The mercy of it all is that she does not care what Prue does, so we are able to steal her away quite often.”

  “Would that someone would permanently steal Prue from her mother,” Tony muttered, his brow furrowing darkly. “That would solve everything.”

  She slid her glance to him slyly. “Are you offering, Captain Sterling?”

  That made him smile, and he shook his head. “Alas, Miss Allen, I think Miss Westfall deserves far better than me. But I’ll see what I can do about it.”

  “I’ve tried myself,” Georgie admitted with a sigh as they reached the footman with beverages. “I can’t convince any man to consider it, not even the ones I think highly of. I don’t know why.”

  Tony gave her a quick look.

  “Oh, all right,” she snapped with an impatient flick of her wrist. “I know very well why. But it isn’t her fault, and it shouldn’t detract anyone from trying for her. If they tried, they might just find out how sweet and good she really is and forget all about everything else.”

  “You say that as if patience were a virtue all men were blessed with.” Tony sipped from the beverage he held and shook his head. “It’s not.”

  Georgie snorted softly. “Really? I’d have thought…” She trailed off instantly, a sight catching her eye that made thought and word vanish.

  Lucy Wilton was heading for a side corridor, her hand clasped tightly in that of Simon Delaney, who she knew was not only a scoundrel but was also supposedly courting Caroline Briggs. There was no reason he should be tugging Lucy anywhere, especially since she was all of fifteen and too young and too silly to be out.

  “Georgie?” Tony asked, his voice somehow far away.

  She seized his arm in a crushing grip. “Tony,” she gasped, her eyes fixed on Lucy’s flushed and excited face.

  No one marked the pair of them. They weren’t making any sort of fuss about thei
r escapade, and everybody was watching the dancing. It was the perfect escape opportunity.

  Tony followed her gaze, and his eyes narrowed. “Wait here,” he growled.

  She held his arm tightly. “What are you going to do?”

  He looked down at her hand, then smiled a little at her. “I’m going to rescue the damsel. And perhaps thrash the villain. The moment I bring her back, do something with her.”

  Georgie nodded quickly and forced herself to release his sleeve. “I’ll get Jane Wilton to come. She’s the one Lucy will listen to and will be discreet.”

  Tony gave her a short nod. “Go, Georgie. Go now.” He moved away from her with ease, seeming to weave between the guests without any sort of hindrance. He exited out the same door the couple had, and Georgie had to restrain a shiver.

  Lord only knew what he would face.

  But she had her marching orders, and she wasn’t about to disobey them. She scanned the room in search of Jane Wilton, careful to keep her composure and act without the appearance of haste. There wouldn’t be any good in drawing attention to the situation. It would only harm the Wiltons, and it wouldn’t help the Spinsters at all either.

  Charlotte saw her and left her four gentlemen, stepping discreetly to her side. “What’s happening?” she asked in a quiet voice, taking Georgie’s arm with a fond smile. “I can see the look in your eyes, even if no one else can.”

  “Lucy Wilton,” Georgie hissed quickly through her teeth. “Simon Delaney.”

  “No!” Charlotte gasped, if one could gasp without changing expression.

  Georgie nodded once, smiling at Mrs. Westfall, who did not return it. “Tony’s gone after them, I’m to fetch Jane and we’ll keep everything as quiet and contained as we can.”

  “Of course,” Charlotte replied a bit distractedly. “Of course. I’ll alert the others. Quietly, of course. Tony should be able to set things right before anything untoward occurs.”