The Merry Lives of Spinsters

by Rebecca Connolly

  She would not look respectable to anyone looking, and she knew that she was pale and drawn, but the dreariness of the day and dismal downpour would make any woman so.

  Not that anyone would care.

  Georgiana Allen did not need to look well.

  Her coat and bonnet were given her, and she donned them quickly, not bothering to tie the ribbons. She held her hand out for the umbrella, and marched out the door, without calling for any sort of servant.

  She was old enough to be a spinster to everyone. She was old enough, therefore, to go unaccompanied wherever she liked.

  The rain pounded on her umbrella, and she was grateful for the noise. It kept her from having to heed her own thoughts, or to let them form words that would open her wounds continually.

  She did not care to have her own company just now. The solitude found in the sound of the rain, the cool breeze as it rushed passed her, and the increasing dampness of her skirts were all the sensations she needed. These were real, these she could feel without pain, comprehend without struggle.

  There was nothing to think of or decipher.

  Nothing.

  Hyde Park was empty but for the occasional hurrying person, but Georgie took her time with her pace, slowing now that she was free to do so. The lanes were clear, the streams of water flowing into the sodden grass, the gurgling sounds almost lost in the symphony of raindrops. Her footsteps added an odd cadence to the sounds about her; slow, steady, an echo of her heart as it pounded within her.

  She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill her lungs, then released it in a heavy sigh, feeling some of the weight she’d been carrying release with it.

  She would manage to find her usual spirit and wit again. She would be able to smile without pain. She would be able to laugh again.

  But it wouldn’t be the same.

  It couldn’t.

  “Georgiana Allen?”

  Oh, Lord have mercy on her soul, she couldn’t bear it…

  Georgie shook her head, picking up her pace and lowering her head.

  “Georgie! I know it is you, girl, and if you do not stop this instant, I will call your name louder until the entire street can hear it!”

  She knew that voice. How did she know that voice?

  She stopped and turned towards the sound of it, her brow furrowing.

  A carriage was stopped in the lane, it’s occupant staring fixedly at her through the lowered window, her singularly blue eyes rather bright against the grey of the day.

  Miranda Sterling.

  “Oh, damn,” Georgie muttered with a rough exhale.

  There was no way she could avoid this confrontation, and it was destined to be ruthless.

  For all of Tony’s generous kindness, his stepmother did not feel the same compunction if it did not suit the circumstance.

  She rather expected this to be such a circumstance.

  Still, she managed to smile a little and force her feet to move in the direction of the carriage.

  “Wise notion, my dear,” Miranda praised when Georgie was close enough. “Now get out of that dreadful rain and into this carriage before you catch your death.”

  “What?” Georgie squawked, tilting her umbrella away from the coach. “Mrs. Sterling…”

  Her brow knitted darkly. “You know better than to call me that, Georgie, dear. It is Miranda.”

  “Yes, madam, I know, but…” Georgie stammered, twisting the umbrella in her hold anxiously.

  “But nothing,” Miranda insisted firmly. “I am offering my carriage, and it would be terribly rude of you to refuse me.”

  Georgie was willing to risk rudeness if it would save her the trouble of facing Tony’s staunchest supporter.

  Miranda opened the carriage door, nearly hitting Georgie with it. “Get. In.”

  She almost refused, her indignation rising again, but she was so very tired of being indignant. She closed the umbrella and climbed into the carriage, averting her gaze from that of her companion.

  “Wise notion, Georgie,” Miranda muttered again, tapping the ceiling of the coach, which suddenly lurched forward.

  Georgie nodded in acceptance, feeling rather conspicuous as she was dripping wet in this pristine carriage. She knew Miranda was looking at her, but she couldn’t bear to think on it. She couldn’t raise her eyes enough to see above the rich color of Miranda’s skirts.

  And, oddly enough, a dozing bloodhound on the floor.

  “Rufus adores carriage rides in the rain,” Miranda said lightly, reaching down to pet him. “And he’s a wonderful companion and confidante. I tell him all my secrets, and he’s never shared a one of them.”

  Georgie was inclined to believe her, and was instantly tempted to scratch the dog at her feet.

  But she couldn’t. Tony would scratch the dog. Pat his head. Take him on the hunt.

  Not her.

  “Georgie, look at me.”

  Miranda’s words echoed her thoughts too perfectly, and Georgie was unable to refuse yet again.

  She looked up and, to her astonishment, found Miranda smiling softly at her.

  How could she do that? Knowing what Georgie had said and done, she could smile at her?

  “You don’t look well, dear,” Miranda said gently. “And it isn’t the rain, I can see that.”

  Georgie shook her head, her throat working on a swallow. “I’m not well, Miranda. I’m not well at all.” She bit back a cry and looked out of the window, covering her mouth to stifle her tears.

  Miranda tutted softly and handed her a handkerchief. “Oh, pet, don’t hide your tears. Let them out, for goodness sake! They’ll drown you if you hold it in.”

  A watery chuckle escaped Georgie and she dabbed at her cheeks and eyes. “I’ve been drowning for days, I’m quite used to the sensation.”

  “Yes, I wondered if you might be.” Miranda sighed and leaned over, taking Georgie’s hand. “It will be all right. No matter what happens.”

  Georgie looked back at her, dubious amidst her tears. “You can say that to me? You who are Tony’s stepmother?”

  Miranda smirked. “Darling, I may be his stepmother, but I am my own woman. And I am your friend. For your own merits, not because of him. I care about you both, and this mess of things affects us all. I refuse to take sides.”

  “Thank you,” Georgie whispered, her chin quivering.

  Miranda winked and nodded, sitting back against the sheepskin behind her. “Not that I know what the pair of you fought about to begin with. Tony’s refused to say anything about it, and if he’s said anything to Rufus, he’s not sharing that with me.”

  Georgie couldn’t smile at that, not even the light quip. “How is Tony?” she asked in a shaking tone.

  “Distressed,” Miranda replied on a sigh, smiling sadly. “I haven’t seen him smile in days, but he’s not come around for some time. Says he needs to think things over, make other arrangements… I think he might be considering giving up the house in Essex after all.”

  Georgie closed her eyes, her heart dropping into the pit of her stomach. Not Hazelwood Park. He’d spoken of it with such eagerness, describing every detail he could recall, though he’d only seen it once. Georgie had begun to imagine it herself, picturing the tranquil setting in the beautiful countryside, seeing herself accompanying him on visits to the tenants, proving herself to be an accomplished and able wife.

  But she wouldn’t be mistress of such a house or have those tenants to tend to.

  He could, though. He could still have that future.

  “He should keep it,” Georgie rasped, her throat burning. She forced her eyes open and looked at Miranda with an attempt at a smile. “He should.”

  “I said the same thing.” Miranda returned her weak smile and shrugged. “He said he didn’t want it without you.”

  Georgie clamped down on her bottom lip hard. She forced back a tide of emotions and exhaled slowly. “What will he do?”

  Miranda made a soft noise of derision. “Probably take up his co
mmission once more. There were many who asked him to remain, and they would be only too happy to give it back.”

  That was exactly what Georgie had feared the response would be. Tony had been a good officer, a stalwart soldier, and he would do well to return to an occupation he was so well suited for. But the thought of him in such danger struck ice in her heart.

  “Do you love him, Georgie?” Miranda asked pointedly as the carriage jolted around a curve. “After whatever has passed?”

  Georgie whimpered and dropped her head, looking at her bare hands, still wrinkled from the rain, clenching at each other.

  Rufus whined and sat up, shifting over to lay his head in Georgie’s lap, his soft eyes peering up at her.

  She reached out to stroke his head, the weight of him in her lap soothing, giving her strength.

  “I’m afraid I do,” Georgie whispered in answer to Miranda’s question.

  “Why afraid?” came the response. “Dear girl, if you love him, and he loves you…”

  “Does he?” she interrupted. “I cannot be so sure.”

  There was silence for a long moment, even from Rufus.

  Miranda shifted in her seat, leaning forward once more. “Georgie, of course he loves you still.”

  “Did he really love me at all?” Georgie wondered aloud. “I’ve never been in love before, and I’ve never had a man in love with me before. I don’t know how to feel, or anything about it. What can I trust? What can I believe? I’m afraid of all of it.” She shook her head, surprised to still find more tears at her disposal. “I’m even more afraid that my fear has made me act rashly in the face of something true and honest.”

  “Ah,” Miranda murmured with understanding. “If that is the case, why would Tony let you go? You cannot tell me this is all on your part.”

  Georgie nodded, still petting Rufus absently. “I overreacted and seem to be doing a lot of it lately. I did not let him explain, and I don’t think I would have believed it if I had. I lashed out at him, and he returned the favor. Just this morning I screamed at Izzy, my cousin and best friend, who was only trying to help. I am apparently not in control of my own emotions, Miranda, and Tony is quite right to be rid of me. I can now see what everyone else has known all along… I am not fit to be any man’s wife.”

  Suddenly, Miranda plucked Georgie’s hand from Rufus’s head and squeezed it tightly. “If I hear anything so disgustingly self-pitying from your lips again, Georgie Allen, I’ll ship you off to Bristol in a trunk on a mail coach.”

  Georgie hiccupped softly, smiling again.

  “You are not unhinged, you are in pain.” Miranda gave her a pitying smile. “Your heart is broken, dear, and that is not madness. Marriage is not a union of two perfect people who will never offend and upset each other. It is made up of two very imperfect people who have chosen to live their lives together, and if there is love in the union, it is all the more precious. If you marry Tony, your problems will not vanish. Indeed, I rather think he will give you more problems than you deserve.”

  Georgie laughed in surprise but nodded.

  “But even with love, Georgie,” Miranda continued, “marriage is difficult, and you will argue, and cry, and scream. But you will also laugh, and dance, and love… You cannot run from every trial in a marriage. You stand and face it together.”

  The tightness in her chest began to ease a little, and she managed to give Miranda a wry smile. “Did you give this speech to Tony?”

  Miranda chuckled and released Georgie’s hand with a pat. “Of course. And I won’t tell you how he responded, your ears may never recover.”

  Georgie giggled easily at that, the tightness easing further still. So, she was not the only one behaving out of sorts. There was comfort in that.

  She looked at Miranda with interest as an errant thought occurred to her. “When did you know that you loved your husband, Miranda? After you married him, I know, but when?”

  Miranda’s brows rose, and then a soft smile crossed her lips. “When I lost our second child. I’d already lost the first, and then we lost the second, and it became apparent that I might not be able to bear him another child, despite both of our wishes.” Her throat worked, and her eyes turned misty. “He held me in his arms and told me that if it wasn’t meant to be, he would still be the most contented of men. So long as he had me, he needn’t wish for anything else. I did not fully comprehend the character of the man I had married until then, but I loved him fiercely from that moment on.”

  Such an intimate response was not what Georgie had expected, yet she could not regret asking. “He sounds like a remarkable man.”

  “He was,” Miranda replied with a smile. “And I love him still, though we are separated now. He will always be the man of my dreams, and having had that love, I do not feel the need to seek out any other. He is still mine, and I am still his. And that is enough.”

  Georgie could not speak for a long moment, the emotions surging through her too raw for words. Could she ever find such a love for herself?

  Had she found it and lost it?

  Had any of it been real?

  Miranda cleared her throat sharply. “So. You pet Rufus for as long as it takes to make you feel better, and I’ll take you home when you do. You marry whomever you like, whether it be my Tony or not. I will always be your friend, dear. On that you can depend.”

  Georgie smiled warmly at her, sure she did not deserve such kindness.

  She wanted to hope that this woman might yet be her mother-in-law.

  But hope had wounded her before. She could not allow it to do so again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A little bit of mischief can go a very long way…

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 10 June 1817

  “I still don’t know why you pressured me to come. I’m not feeling quite up to it.”

  “Because you love balls, and you know how much Anna loves having us attend her family’s events.”

  “If your sister-in-law thinks that we will ever forget that her brother trod both our toes so badly we bruised at the ball four years ago, she is sadly mistaken.”

  Izzy giggled and looked around at the grand ballroom at Maxwell house with all the eagerness of a seventeen-year-old. “But I do love this room, Georgie! It is the best and brightest in all of London!”

  Georgie eyed her cousin fondly. “Only because you are practically glowing, Izzy. You look positively lovely.”

  She was not exaggerating, either. Izzy wore a white muslin that gave her an air of innocence yet suited her so well that the look was more elegant than anything else. Her ribbons and earrings matched, but around her neck she wore only a simple gold chain, and that seemed the most perfect accouterment for her appearance.

  It was a testament to Izzy’s perfect nature that she was once again so warm and familiar with Georgie after her outburst. Upon her return the other day, Izzy had only wrapped her in warm blankets and sat with her by the fire, sipping hot tea until they were both warm and sleepy, giggling like they had as children. Forgiveness came far too easily for her cousin, and she was never more grateful for it than now.

  And truth be told, she did rather want to be here. Not to be eyed with speculation when she and Tony avoided each other, provided he would be in attendance, but to be out among people and behaving with as much normalcy as she could manage. She frequently attended the balls that were held at various houses in London. She was one of the regulars who could be counted on, even if she rarely danced.

  The slow progression into her typical activities and behavior had been good for her, and after her conversation with Miranda in the carriage the other day, she had been determined to pick up the pieces of her life and move forward.

  The Spinsters had been surprisingly silent on the topic, but she could only presume that Izzy had warned them off, and for once they had heeded it.

  Georgie looked around now, sighing to herself. This would be good for her. She could manage it.

  Izzy rubbed her hand, the
n walked with her over to the corner where Lady Hetty was sitting.

  This could be dangerous on far too many levels.

  “That’s a very pretty gown, Georgiana,” Lady Hetty said with a fond smile at her. “It’s almost pink, isn’t it?”

  Georgie smiled and looked down at the dress, a very pale rose-color overlaying cream underskirts and trimmed with gold. “Yes, ma’am, it is. Izzy persuaded me to have small flowers in my hair to match it.” She turned to show her the hair accessories, dotted among her pinned braids.

  “Isabella has such fine taste,” Lady Hetty praised, reaching a hand out for Izzy. She beamed up at her, then looked at Georgie with equal warmth. “I hope you will dance tonight, Georgiana. A pretty girl like you must dance, indeed you must. Don’t sit over here with an old woman.”

  “Perhaps I like sitting with old women,” Georgie suggested with a tilt of her chin. “I am near to one myself.”

  Lady Hetty scoffed loudly. “Pish tosh. You are as young as spring tonight. I will see you dance.” She thumped her walking stick loudly. “Greensley!”

  Mr. Greensley, who was just passing, stopped and bowed to Lady Hetty swiftly, looking resigned, but already amused. “Lady Hetty, you look rather charming this evening.”

  “I look old and feeble, and this shade is not my color,” Lady Hetty retorted. “But at my age, I no longer care. Dance with Miss Allen, Greensley. Give her the next two.”

  “Lady Hetty!” Georgie protested, her cheeks flushing hotly.

  Izzy, however, looked highly amused.

  Greensley nodded, too much a gentleman to refuse, and turned to Georgie. “Miss Allen, may I have the pleasure?”

  She restrained the urge to sputter in irritation and placed her hand in his. “Of course, Mr. Greensley.” She speared Lady Hetty with a scowl as he led her to the floor.

  “Come now, Miss Allen,” Greensley teased as they took their positions. “Surely you can dance with me. I’ve known you since we were six.”

  Georgie gave him a look as the music struck up. “Yes, and your dancing has not improved since the last time it was permissible for me to call you Everett.”