The Spinster & The Coquette

by Caylen McQueen

  Much to Hester’s dismay, her sister was back to her usual habits: flirting and giggling and coquettishly simpering behind her fan. Cordelia thrived on male attention, and did nothing to discourage her many admirers, and she made it her mission to dance with every man who doted on her.

  Hester resisted the temptation to roll her eyes each time Cordelia rapped a young gentleman on the arm with her fan. In truth, she envied her sister. It wasn’t as if men ever doted on her. Hester had always been a wallflower, and that fact would likely never change, even though the scenery had changed. Plymouth was no kinder to her than London.

  After three dances and several minutes of neglect, Cordelia finally remembered her sister’s existence. When she returned to Hester’s side, her emerald eyes were glowing with excitement. “Hester!” She seized her sister’s arm and squeezed. “I can hardly believe it! There are more handsome gentlemen in Plymouth than I anticipated!”

  “Is that so?”

  “Are you saying you haven’t noticed? Good gracious, Hester, one might think you lacked a pulse! How could any woman with a decent pair of eyes fail to notice beautiful Mr. Snowley or handsome Mr. Hewlitt?”

  “Mr. Snowley, Mr. Hewlitt, and none of their brethren have been introduced to me.”

  “But surely you could have admired them from afar? They are easy enough to notice. Mr. Hewlitt is so tall, he towers above everyone. And Mr. Snowley’s hair is as black as midnight, and it looks so very soft and shiny. Have you ever been tempted to touch a man’s hair just to see if it is as soft as it looks?”

  “No.”

  “You’re no fun, Hes. Absolutely no fun at all!”

  “Then you need not waste your time with me, not when there are so many men who long to dance with the great beauty from London. I grant you permission to abandon me at any moment, Cordelia. Leave your ape leader sister to sulk in a corner.”

  “You are no ape leader!” Cordelia defended her sister.

  “Am I not? I am most certainly a spinster, quite firmly on the shelf. And I have never been a beauty, not like you.” That much was true. In comparison to her sister, Hester might have been described as plain. Her straight blonde hair had no luster, her chin was a bit pointy, and her cheeks were pale and colorless. “I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to be flirted with as relentlessly as you are.”

  “It is… pleasant,” the younger sister admitted.

  “But must you flirt with everyone? If you carry on, every man in the room will end up horribly attached to you, only to discover your heart belongs to Lord Cavendish.”

  “I must confess, I enjoy the attention!” Cordelia exclaimed. “And my heart hardly belongs to Lord Cavendish. It is true that I cared for him once, but it wasn’t as if we had an understanding. My heart is anyone’s to capture.”

  “That is very good news for Mr. Snowley and Mr… Hewlitt, was it?” Suddenly, Hester’s mind recalled an image of Frank Boswell’s boyish face. If the boy was forming an attachment to Cordelia, as Hester suspected, he would have little luck.

  “Truth be told, I am particularly fond of Mr. Snowley. His voice is so deep and soft, and I quite like the way his dark hair contrasts with his pale skin. He is the only man I have agreed to dance with a second time. When he comes to collect me for the dance, do look at his eyes! They’re so dark. So mysterious. So penetrating. They pierce my soul!”

  “Already you swoon for this man!” Hester laughed. “You are so very fickle, Cordelia.”

  “Tease me if you must, but I believe there is something very special about him!” Cordelia insisted. “He is even more handsome than Lord Cavendish.”

  “I should like to see this man, to see if he lives up to the praise. What else can you tell me about your dear Mr. Snowley?”

  “He is thirty, his father is a baronet, and he seems rather well off,” Cordelia began. “He has three siblings, all of them sisters, which I was very pleased to discover. Sisters can have an immeasurable effect on a man. A gentleman with sisters tends to be more sensitive, more understanding… more—”

  “Thirty,” Hester grumbled. “Your Mr. Snowley is the same age as I am, and yet it would be unconscionable for a man of his age to pursue a woman of my age.”

  “Pardon?”

  “No matter,” Hester sighed. “Do continue.”

  Cordelia lowered her voice and whispered, “As much as I would like to say more, I’m afraid I cannot. Mr. Snowley approaches!”

  When Cordelia’s beau appeared in front of them, Hester immediately understood why her sister was drawn to him. He was so handsome, one might have been tempted to use the word beauty to describe him. His hair was black and thick, his obsidian eyes were smoldering, and his dark blue greatcoat was molded to his lean form. Mr. Snowley’s lips were pink and impossibly full, and perhaps a bit feminine, but appealing nonetheless. The faint lines around his eyes suggested that he was a man who smiled frequently.

  “It is such a pleasure to see you again, Miss Waverly. As you might suspect, I have come to claim you for our dance.”

  “Of course. But first, I would like to introduce you to someone very dear to me.” Cordelia turned in Hester’s direction and smiled. “This is Hester. Hester Waverly. My elder sister.”

  “Good evening, Miss Waverly.” Without warning, Mr. Snowley seized the older sister’s hand and raised it to his lips. She could feel his breath as his mouth descended on her hand. It was peculiarly pleasant, and she silently cursed herself for wearing gloves. Even more so, she cursed herself for her immediate attraction to her sister’s handsome beau. “I am Alexander Snowley. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Likewise,” Hester said.

  Alexander smiled at her, which made the lines around his eyes more prominent. The deepening lines made him look more handsome, if possible. “What a pretty pair you are,” he said.

  “Oh please, Mr. Snowley, you needn’t say that.” Hester dismissed his remark with a flick of her wrist. “I am hardly my sister’s equal. She is, and has always been, the pretty one.”

  “You are both very pretty, certainly.” Despite having complimented both sisters, Mr. Snowley made no effort to converse with Hester further. His interest in Cordelia was obvious—not that Hester could blame him. “I meant to tell you, Miss Waverly, the ribbon in your hair is rather fetching.”

  “Oh!” Cordelia gently touched her hair. “Do you like it? I must say, your compliment is a relief. In London, a maid attended to my hair. Since I have been living with my aunt, my hair is my own responsibility, and I’d feared I was inefficient.”

  “If only every young lady was so inefficient!” Mr. Snowley chuckled. “You look lovely. Absolutely lovely.”

  “You are far too kind.”

  “I offered to arrange Cordelia’s hair,” Hester spoke up, “but she ignored my offer.”

  And she would be ignored yet again. Cordelia and Mr. Snowley were too busy gazing at each other to hear what Hester said.

  Alexander held out his arm to Cordelia. “Shall we head out for the dance, Miss Waverly?”

  “Certainly!” Cordelia smiled at her sister, accepted her beau’s arm, and allowed herself to be escorted away.

  Before Hester could properly appreciate the moment of silence, her aunt appeared at her side. Hyacinth said, “My dear, I have just realized something. I have spent the entire night introducing your sister to a great number of gentlemen, and yet I have completely neglected you. It is truly inexcusable.”

  “It matters not,” Hester said with a shrug. “I have no particular interest in meeting anyone. I am not as affable and social as my sister.”

  “Nevertheless, it was a very cruel slight on the part of your aunt. If you can forgive me, I would like to introduce you to a man I have known for many years.” When Hyacinth turned her head, Hester noticed, for the first time, there was a man standing at her aunt’s side. He was closer to her aunt’s age, perhaps fifty, with graying sandy hair and a bristly, unshaven chin. Tall and broad, and with a furr
owed brow, he looked very stern. If not for her aunt’s cheerful introduction, he might have been a man she would approach with caution. “This is Cecil Hargrave, a very old friend of mine.”

  “Very old?” Cecil exclaimed. Hyacinth’s words made him laugh—it was a very deep, rich laugh. “You make us sound ancient, Hyacinth! But then… I suppose we are ancient to a young woman like your niece.”

  “If you feel ancient, Cecil, imagine how I must feel!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “I am even a decade older than you.”

  Hester did not speak for some time. Was her aunt introducing her to Mr. Hargrave because she believed they would be a good match? If so, Hester thought it was a bit depressing to be matched with a man who, in all likelihood, was old enough to be her father. However, despite his years, and despite the deep lines on his forehead, Cecil Hargrave was still a remarkably handsome man. His face, while a bit weathered, was undeniably striking. His hair was a bit long and unkempt, which gave him the appearance of a rogue.

  When Hester failed to speak, Mr. Hargrave asked, “You are Miss Waverly?”

  “Ah… yes! My apologies, Mr. Hargrave. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

  “You disappoint me, Hester,” her aunt said, “I never thought you would be the absent-minded sort.”

  “I am very sorry,” Hester apologized again. “Truly.”

  “Perhaps you were so handsome, Cecil, you rendered her speechless.”

  “That, I strongly doubt!” Again, he roared with laughter. “Miss Waverly, your aunt said you were from London?”

  “Indeed. I am.”

  “Plymouth must seem very dull in comparison to that grand city.”

  “Not at all,” Hester objected. As they conversed, her aunt flitted away without a farewell. Hester assumed it was Hyacinth’s plan to leave them alone—her intentions for them were suddenly obvious. “Being so close to the coast is very refreshing, and the landscapes are breathtaking.”

  “But the gentlemen are very few in number. That must be rather disappointing to a young woman such as yourself.”

  Hester nervously twisted her hands in front of her. Mr. Hargrave made her a bit uneasy, as handsome men often did. She was certain it was only a matter of time before she said something silly and off-putting. “The number of gentlemen does not concern me as it does my sister.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “For one, I am not particularly young,” Hester explained. “I have been a spinster for some time.”

  “Somehow, I doubt the veracity of that claim. You look very young.”

  “So I have been told. People expect me to rejoice in that fact, but I would not mind looking older. A wise face earns more respect.”

  “And yet… age does not always equal wisdom,” Cecil countered. “For example, I am much older than you, but I am not immune to puerile behavior.”

  “I do not consider that a fault, Mr. Hargrave. I’ve often wished I could be more spirited. I’m afraid I am a very boring person. I cannot socialize, I’ve never flirted, and I do not dance. I would have rather stayed at home with my cousin, but my aunt insisted.” Hester shrugged indolently. “He is a very friendly young man, and would have been pleasant company.”

  “This cousin…” Mr. Hargrave scratched his bristled chin as he considered her words. “He is… a suitor?”

  “Oh, heavens no!” The thought of it made her giggle a bit too loudly. “He is much too young for me! In the beginning, I thought he might be a match for my sister, as he seemed to form an attachment to her very quickly.” Hester searched the room for her sister. In a distant corner of the room, Cordelia was standing with Mr. Snowley, inappropriately stroking his lapel. Hester made a mental note to chide her—yet again—for her brazen behavior. “Unfortunately, I do not think my sister’s interest in him is genuine.”

  “Why not?”

  “He is… hm… how shall I say it without sounding offensive…?” As she considered her words, Hester crossed her arms and heaved a sigh. “My sister is a very vivacious young woman, full of life and energy. And Frank is—”

  “Ah. Frank! You needn’t say another word,” Mr. Hargrave interrupted. “I have known your aunt for many years, and I am very aware of your cousin’s condition.”

  “But he is, as I said, a very friendly young man. He deserves to be happy.”

  “As do we all,” Mr. Hargrave echoed. “Miss Waverly… did I hear you say you do not dance? I was going to ask if you’d care to dance with me, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

  With a slightly mischievous smile on her lips, Hester replied, “If I ever felt compelled to dance, I assure you, I would only dance with you.”

  Cecil grinned at her. “I thought you said you did not flirt? And yet… you seem perfectly capable of it to me.”

  “Perhaps I can flirt after all.” Hester’s smile broadened as she spoke. “If and when the situation demands it.”

  Chapter Five

  Hester heard a dreamy sigh from Cordelia—it was the sort of sigh she had heard a dozen times before. Her sister’s fresh infatuation was as obvious as the disappointment on Frank Boswell’s face. The three of them were in the sitting room together, trying to assuage the boredom of the day. Dim light from an overcast sky poured through the window, illuminating the room just enough for Hester to read her book. Cordelia was sewing—or pretending to sew. Her needle had not so much as grazed the fabric for many minutes. Her thoughts were preoccupied by a certain young gentleman. Frank did not even pretend to be busy, nor did he bother to hide his adoration of Cordelia. Every time he attempted to turn his gaze elsewhere, his eyes always found a way back to her.

  Cordelia sighed again, longer and louder. Finally, she said, “Is he not the most beautiful man you have ever laid eyes upon?”

  “Of whom do you speak?” her sister inquired.

  “Mr. Snowley, of course! He is unbelievably handsome and charming. I never thought I would say this, not in a million years, but I am glad we were sent to Plymouth. I would not have met him otherwise.”

  “That is quite a change of heart.” Hester surreptitiously turned her gaze to Frank. He had been silent for most of the day, but she was curious to see his reaction. Though he feigned disinterest in their conversation, she saw him clench a fist—so tightly, in fact, that his knuckles turned white.

  “What was your opinion of him, Hester?” Cordelia asked. “His good looks are undeniable, but what was your impression of him? Was he clever? Did you think he was amiable?”

  “We barely spoke. It is too soon to form an opinion.” Hester leaned closer to her sister and whispered in her ear, “Perhaps you should not have flirted with Frank quite so much?”

  “What? Why?”

  “He looks very… down.”

  “Does he?” Cordelia put her needle and thread aside and turned her full attention to the young man sitting across from her. “Frank, are you feeling down?”

  When Frank met her gaze, he tried to pretend he hadn’t spent half of the afternoon gazing at her like a lovesick mooncalf. “Hmm?”

  “My sister seems to think you are blue-deviled,” Cordelia said. “Have I done something to distress you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “See, Hester? You worry far too much! You always believe things are more dramatic than they are! Perhaps you read too many novels.”

  “Right now…” Hester closed the book on her lap and shook her head. “I cannot read. It is too dark, and I need my spectacles.”

  “Frank would love to see you in your spectacles, I am sure. They transform you into a beautiful bookish bluestocking that no man can resist.”

  Hester disagreed with a snort. “No man likes a bluestocking. They prefer silly little flirts… like you, Cordelia.”

  “I am not silly!” the younger sister protested. “But… I suppose I am a flirt.”

  “Much to our father’s dismay…” Hester sighed. Under her breath, she added, “And Frank’s, I am sure.”

  A moment later, Maisie
entered the sitting room with the calling card of a guest: Alexander Snowley. When faced with the possibility of receiving a visitor, Hester said, “But our aunt is in town. Perhaps we should not—”

  “Send him in!” Cordelia spoke louder than her sister, ensuring her opinion would be heard. “We cannot turn away such an honored guest.”

  “But Hyacinth is away!” Hester tried to be the voice of reason. “And we are also her guests. It is not our place to accept visitors on her behalf!”

  “I am sure she would not mind. Besides… Frank is with us.” Cordelia smiled at her cousin as prettily as she could. “You will not abandon us, will you, Frank?”

  “I…”

  Before Frank could think of his answer, the door opened, and the painstakingly handsome Alexander Snowley entered the sitting room. His perfect hair was darker than a moonless night, and his black eyes were intense and piercing. As he stepped inside, he brandished a large bouquet of flowers, which he offered to Cordelia with a bow.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Waverly,” he greeted her. “You look every bit as lovely as I remember.”

  “And you look even more handsome, Mr. Snowley. How is that possible?”

  Cordelia’s compliment made him chuckle. “Surely you jest!”

  “Not at all! You look very handsome indeed. Oh, and the flowers are lovely! You are too kind.” Cordelia paused to stroke the flowers’ soft petals. “You remember my sister, do you not?”

  “Indeed. It is a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Waverly,” he said to Hester, who held his gaze ever-so-briefly. He immediately turned his attention back to Cordelia and awaited her next words.

  “This is my cousin, Frank Boswell,” Cordelia cheerfully said. Naive girl that she was, she failed to recognize the sneer on Frank’s face.

  “It is very good to meet you.”

  “Mm…” Frank acknowledged the other man with a grunt, then forced himself to mutter a single word. “Likewise.”

  “Do sit, Mr. Snowley. You may stay as long as you would like. Should I ask Maisie for some tea? Oh, but she is such a sweet girl… I hate to trouble her so. There are still a few biscuits, if you would like one.” Cordelia spoke so quickly, she could barely catch her breath. There was something about Mr. Snowley that unsettled her. He made her nervous, and when she was nervous, she had a tendency to ramble.