Spinster's Gambit

by Gwendolynn Thomas

  “Let’s go hunting,” Aspen ordered, spinning on his heel. Daniel nodded sharply and followed him out of the room, leaving Jac alone.

  Not five minutes after they left, Mr. Henry Charington stuck his head into the room. But whatever he was searching for, he did not find it, for he disappeared almost just as quickly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The dogs ran out in front of the duke, their ears flapping happily and Daniel prayed they’d find a flock to flush soon, though he knew it’d not do a lick of good to quash the rumors growing behind him. He just wanted something to shoot. This was going to affect the slavery vote, he had no doubt of it. The peers of the realm owned the court system and he had no doubt they would use it against him.

  “What are these nattering idiots on about?” Aspen asked finally. Daniel glanced around them, wishing fervently for a dog’s bark to break up the conversation. This was spreading all too quickly.

  “My sister and I will have to leave early, I apologize,” he said instead. They had to get out of sight, out of the minds of the idiots at this ill-timed house party, and pray the rumors remained only as cruel gossip to be borne with fortitude in the next season.

  “What will you do? I assume there is nothing to be done to lessen society’s censure now,” Aspen asked quietly. Daniel sighed. It was good to have one man who knew the whole of the situation, at least.

  “Presumably, I will go home and live out the rest of my days with a significantly deteriorated social circle. Alas, true suffering,” Daniel joked. His voice came out too flat. Aspen glanced at him, his sympathy clear.

  “And Henry?” Aspen asked. Daniel felt something sharp in his chest at the name and shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

  “I figured you would want to leave early to meet Jack before he leaves for his mad scheme in Boston,” Aspen answered and it sounded false even to Daniel’s ears. Daniel nodded quickly, grateful for the well-timed excuse. Aspen stopped suddenly and spun toward him, keeping his weapon safely pointed toward the ground. “Can you not at least tell me what rumors are spreading? This is not like you,” he demanded, his face keen. Daniel swallowed, not wanting to encourage the man nor deceive him but the less he knew of ‘Mr. Jack Holcombe’ the safer Jacoline would be. The duke nodded sharply, recognizing his defeat, and turned back to the hunt again.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow, in the morning,” Daniel offered. Jac would not be happy he thought, watching the Duke of Aspen make his way quietly through the brush after his dogs. He had noticed the way the duke had begun to seek her out. Aspen had always been bored at house parties. Perhaps he’d finally realized that Miss Jacoline Holcombe was almost as good company as his dear friend ‘Jack’. Daniel wanted to throttle the man for realizing so little, so late.

  “I’ll be sorry to see you go,” Aspen replied, glancing meaningfully back at the estate, where the house full of peers were no doubt tittering. Daniel smiled grimly.

  “At least it is not difficult to lure them out into the woods alone while you’re armed with a loaded firearm. Host a hunting outing,” he replied under his breath and Aspen chuckled, his deep voice rumbling in the quiet.

  “Accidents do happen,” he muttered darkly. Daniel laughed between his teeth and pressed forward.

  ~~//~~

  The Duke of Aspen returned to the house with Daniel a little after three o'clock. They crossed in front of the red parlor’s open door on their way toward the main stairs and interrupted every trace of fine conversation. Jac did her best to hide her roaming eyes behind her book but she saw Aspen walk past, his clothing streaked with dirt and his hair ragged. The men disappeared up the stairs to bathe and dress and she returned her eyes to her book. The duchess left the room quietly, walking toward the stairs.

  The men slowly trickled in from outside soon after, clean and well-mannered again. Jac watched the Lord Monson address Miss Musgrave, no sign of his fervent politics or loud manner. Daniel came in finally, his smile forced, and Jac watched as Mr. Norcaster and Lord Musgrave subtly angled themselves away so they were talking toward the window and obviously not to be joined. The small clusters of ladies did the same, leaning toward each other and closing ranks until every conversation in the room was a private one.

  All except Miss Charington. She took a deep breath as if going into battle, lifted herself out of her small coterie and plunked herself down in an open cluster of chairs. Jac did her best not to gape at the girl, though there wasn’t much point; the rest of the room was certainly staring at her.

  That was perhaps the least subtle thing I’ve ever seen, Jac thought, biting her lip to keep from laughing. And I live with Daniel, she added, watching the girl smooth her skirts and smile at her nervously. Jac walked over and sat next to her, wondering what the girl was doing. Her father, Mr. Henry Charington, was nowhere to be seen, but Jac had no doubt the man would not approve of her very public declaration of loyalty. Daniel joined them, his plastered-on smile still intact.

  “Well,” he said, slapping his knees in a jovial manner, “have you noted the recent rise in dairy prices?”

  Jac stifled a groan, knowing the whole room was listening to them.

  “You should not be here, Laura,” Daniel muttered under his breath and the girl actually glared at him. Jac felt her eyebrows rise.

  Laura? Jac thought, glancing at Daniel curiously. Miss Charington did not seem surprised by the liberal use of her Christian name.

  Who is this girl? Jac wondered, watching her brother. Surely he did not have designs on the girl – Miss Charington could not be older than sixteen. Jac knew very little about Mr. Henry Charington and his daughter. The girl had lost her mother at a very young age and Mr. Henry Charington had raised her himself, but very little else was known about the family. She certainly didn’t know how Daniel was involved with them.

  “Your father will never forgive me,” Daniel added and Jac realized there were a few women actually leaning in their chairs, attempting to overhear them.

  “I hadn’t noticed the price increase, no. Do you think Parliament will pass the predicted import restrictions?” Jac replied, a bit too loudly, doing her best to sound as mind-numbingly boring as she could.

  “It’s my decision, my reputation,” the girl hissed back, a bit too fervently. Miss Faring stared at her, her eyes pinched in disapproval.

  What am I missing?

  “I think that’s likely, yes, though it may starve out the cities,” Daniel drawled before turning back to Miss Charington. “You are not yet sixteen years old. I demand you give me the cut direct,” he ordered.

  “I do not want to,” Miss Charington hissed back.

  Why does she care?

  “Surely the laws will allow for an exception in the case of a famine,” Jac added, knowing she came off as horribly naive. She saw Lord Monson’s face jerk into something like a sneer at her words and ignored him.

  “If you do not, I will get up and walk away, and I shall not have my sister’s support,” Daniel threatened, gesturing to Jac as if responding to their farce of a political discussion.

  “Surely not! The Londoners would starve!” Jac gasped and Daniel’s fake smile twitched, threatening to show real amusement.

  “Fine. Though I shall speak with my father,” Miss Charington replied, making it sound like a threat. The humor in Daniel’s eyes died quickly and he turned toward her, looking sad.

  “Be my guest,” he replied. Miss Charington huffed, but stood up and strode back to her friends, looking affronted. Daniel watched her, his face solemn and turned back to Jac. Jac tilted her head at him curiously and he pulled a folded pamphlet from the pocket of his waistcoat, apparently finished with the conversation. Jac sighed and resolutely returned to her book, looking forward to the morning when they could leave.

  ~~//~~

  The next morning Jac hid herself away in the green drawing room at the back of the house before anyone else had woken up. She sat fiddling with the duke’s carved che
ss set, her fingers sliding idly over the smooth curves. He’d sanded each groove so thoroughly the wood felt like silk beneath her hands. A true artist, not that he’d let anyone see it.

  Sarah had already packed and Jac was ready to leave, but Daniel had not yet shown himself. He never had been particularly timely about waking up.

  She could be quite heartbroken leaving here, she thought. She was unlikely to see Aspen again before the next season and she’d be just as much a stranger to the man by then. For a brief moment, it felt like he’d truly noticed her.

  Jac sighed, pushing away her thoughts. She was not going to be married and not going to have children; she’d have to figure out what else she wanted from her life.

  ~~//~~

  Aspen found Miss Holcombe in the green salon, staring down at the chess set he’d made eight years before. She looked so very wilted. He paused in the doorway, unsure if he should interrupt.

  She began to set up a game for herself, her fingers flying and placing the pieces without faltering. Aspen wanted to leave her be, intimidated, but stilled his feet. Was he to court her? Would she take him?

  She looked beautiful leaning over the chessboard, her brown hair pinned up above her slender neck. She glanced up, her striking eyes meeting his, and smiled fully, like she was welcoming an old friend. It made him feel like a full man for a moment, like she didn’t see the scars at all. Aspen blinked and her happy expression faded, her smile melting into something more tired.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” she greeted, her gaze returning to the chessboard. Aspen frowned, unsettled, feeling like he’d already spoiled something between them. What more did she expect from him?

  “If you’re waiting for Daniel, I saw him upstairs not long ago,” he said. Miss Holcombe nodded without looking up from the chessboard.

  Rude, Aspen thought, but he couldn’t be annoyed. It was a boring statement.

  “Miss Holcombe,” he started, only to curse himself. He had no idea how to speak with women. “How long have you been playing chess?” he asked, stepping into the room, and her gaze shot up to meet his. Her eyes were bright and focused, so alike her cousin’s.

  Or whoever ‘Mr. Jack Holcombe’ was, Aspen amended, not believing that claim at all anymore.

  “Since I was one and twenty. Daniel came home from the continent where he'd learned, and taught me,” she replied.

  “That was not long ago,” Aspen stated, blinking. He remembered teaching Daniel how the different pieces moved, back in their shared travels. It had been so strange, realizing his aristocratic friend did not already know.

  Their father was absent, he remembered, glancing at the woman before him. He wanted to ask what that had been like, but he did not know her well enough. He did not know how to play at these social games; when he was supposed to start conversation and when it was her turn. He did not wish to speak about the weather or gossip about the other house guests.

  “May I ask you a question then?” he asked as filler. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly and Aspen was vaguely reminded of Daniel. “I recently saw an opening that started with the queen’s pawn matched by black’s king’s pawn, and then the queen’s bishop’s pawn was moved up to threaten-”

  Miss Holcombe grinned suddenly, her whole face brightening, and he knew she recognized it.

  “Ah, the Queen's Gambit,” she said. “It's an old opening, but it's not well known.”

  Then why do you and Jack both know it?

  “How do you know of it?” Aspen asked instead. He'd keep his promise not to pry.

  “Do you know the name Gioachino Greco?” she asked and Aspen shook his head, feeling odd speaking down at her. The only chairs in the room were by the fire and the window, both too far from the table to speak with her. Miss Holcombe smiled again, almost wistfully and looked out the window, toward the back gardens where his mother’s roses grew. “He wrote a book I recommend you read, called the Royal Game of Chess Play. In it I read about the Queen's Gambit, and it's been a favorite opening of mine ever since,” she stated.

  “Why?” he asked. Miss Holcombe gestured for him to sit across the board from her. Aspen obeyed gratefully, settling into the chair.

  “Because it looks so foolish,” she answered, smiling at him again. “I mostly studied chess while Daniel was away on business and one day after he returned he wanted to play with me. Do keep in mind that Daniel could be an absolute cad and I knew he was only asking for the chance to crush an opponent as he was quite poor at the game compared to his peers. So I started with the Queen's Gambit and he mocked me for a full five minutes before I ate his knight and rook with no losses to show for it. He'd given up his central control by accepting the gambit and he was utterly unprepared when I won back the pawn.”

  She grinned almost ferally at the memory. Aspen did his best to keep his surprise off of his face.

  “Oh, but I remember that!” he exclaimed suddenly, thinking back. “Daniel came back from Abingdon and demanded I teach him more about the game. It's a good thing he could best me in fencing or I swear we'd never have maintained our friendship. It was years before he became anything close to my equal in chess. I suppose at that point you could probably have beaten my mentors in the game.”

  Miss Holcombe chuckled, her voice light and wonderful.

  “The only thing else to do in my world was play the piano or dance. I enjoy both but still I hid in Daniel's office at every occasion and tore into his books,” she admitted.

  “You would have doubled our marks at Eton,” Aspen stated and she shook her head.

  “No, my interests are too fickle. I pick one thing and study it, and for that time I don't care about anything else in the world,” she replied. Aspen thought of her concentration and nodded his agreement.

  “So when did you pick up the pianoforte?” he asked and Miss Holcombe tipped her head back slightly, looking somewhere over his head, but for once he did not think it was to avoid his gaze. She simply looked up when thinking as Jack had done.

  “Oh, I think I was about five or six. It was the only thing my governess did not need to scold me into doing. My first interest, as it were. So first it was piano, then chess, then piano again when I realized that it meant I could escape the social scene at house parties,” she said. She jerked her head down, her eyes wide. “I had not meant -”

  “No, my mother's parties are horrendous for me as well,” he assured her, grinning. “I wish I had something solitary I could hide in.”

  Her eyes furrowed, looking confused for a moment.

  “But you can always leave to play billiards or ride on your own without it being questioned,” she stated, sounding envious. Aspen tipped his head, accepting the point, and clasped his hands together.

  “True, but there are multiple problems with that. First of all, I do in fact respect my mother and I want to make her happy, for which my presence is required. Second, it's hardly secret that I am in need .. er.. in want of a wife,” he stated, rubbing his thumb into his palm and cursing his own awkwardness.

  “Fair,” she replied easily, tipping her head to him. “But in any case, the Queen's Gambit has two obvious responses. You can take the pawn, and accept the gambit, or not,” she stated.

  “Why wouldn't you?” he asked.

  “I'll show you how white can regain that pawn. Without the pawn advantage, it breaks down into a discussion of central board control. Alright, so let's take it from the bishop’s pawn,” she started, setting up the scenario on the board between them.

  They were talking, like it was no effort at all.

  “Lord, but you're as stubborn as a mule. Let us hope you're not as sterile,” she cursed when he would not stop trying to defend his hanging pawn. “Ignore the pawn, you cannot keep it. You will only lose. Take my word on that. What do you see?”

  I cannot believe you just said that, Aspen thought, staring at the chessboard in front of him. She ha
d to be the least refined woman on the planet.

  Is this why her few suitors quickly turned away? He wondered, remembering now the few men that had circled around her, but each only for a very short time.

  “You know I read a book that mentioned that. Mules are not always infertile,” he corrected, doing his best not to blush at the idea that they may, in fact, be talking about him. Still, Miss Holcombe looked up with only scientific interest in her eyes.

  “Really?” she asked, leaning forward, revealing more of her chest below her neckline. Aspen forced himself to look away and met her eyes.

  “Only with female mules and a normal horse as sire,” he clarified. Miss Holcombe grinned suddenly, amusement back in her eyes.

  “Well then, that's hardly a defense for you, is it?” she asked and that time Aspen knew he'd blushed. She laughed again, throwing her head back and Aspen blinked, somewhat awed by the woman in front of him. She must be so bored, hiding behind that quiet, spinster facade. Were all women so alive in private? He somehow doubted it.

  “How do you know that? About the mules?” she asked, still smiling.

  “I studied everything I could about farming when my father died. He'd known quite a bit, but only from the financial point of view. I’d felt unprepared to wield power over anyone so I studied as much as I could,” he replied. “It’s how I came to know the Duke of Mariton. He knows everything there is to know about animal husbandry.”

  Miss Holcombe tilted her head, apparently intrigued and Aspen relaxed, feeling almost interesting for a moment.

  “What did you learn?” she asked and Aspen chuckled, blowing out a heavy breathe.

  “That I am very bad farmer. Most of my predictions for field placement and rotation ran exactly counter to what my tenants suggested, and of course they were right. I came to leave them to their business, and see to my own,” he answered. Aspen shook himself out of his thoughts and turned back to their game.

  “That sounds wise,” she answered.