The Spinster & The Coquette

by Caylen McQueen

  “For once, I am asking you to consider someone other than yourself!”

  “Whose feelings have I not taken into consideration? Yours? Are you jealous?” Cordelia scowled at her sister for several seconds before she spoke again. “Have you never been kissed, Hester? As stodgy as you are, I would hardly be surprised if you haven’t!”

  Hester kept her eyes on her knitting needles. “I choose not to disclose that information.”

  “That is as good as telling us that you haven’t,” Cordelia muttered.

  “Not everyone is as boastful and obnoxious as you are, Cordelia.”

  “Poor Hester… never been kissed… and at your age, too! It must be so disheartening.” Cordelia turned her attention back to the young man sitting beside her. “Perhaps you could kiss her, Frank. You would be doing her such a favor! You could put an end to her misery.”

  “I… she… I…”

  Before Frank could respond, Hester rose from the sofa and stormed from the room without another word. It was quite clear that her younger sister had humiliated her, but there was little remorse on Cordelia’s face.

  In Hester’s absence, Frank finally found the words he wanted to say.

  “I think any man would be very lucky to kiss her,” he said, “and you were unnecessarily cruel.”

  Chapter Seven

  “When Hester and I were shopping for books, would you believe we happened upon Mr. Snowley? At the bookstore, of all places! He does not seem to be the bookish sort, so I cannot think of anything more serendipitous than that!” Cordelia boasted her story to anyone who would listen—at the moment, Frank, Hyacinth and Hester were all at her mercy.

  “Perhaps he is following you?” Frank suggested with a snort.

  “You know… I had considered that. If he’s shadowing me, I suppose I would think of it as a compliment. Is it possible I made such an impression on him, he hovers around me, waiting for an opportunity to approach?”

  Frank did not hesitate to give his opinion. “It sounds dashed creepy to me.”

  “You may say that if you would like, but I think his attention is flattering.” Suddenly, Cordelia kissed a small slip of paper that she was clutching in her hand.

  “What is that?” asked her aunt.

  “He gave me a letter.”

  Hyacinth grumbled disapprovingly. “Is it common for a young man to carry out a clandestine correspondence with a lady? It is very unbecoming!”

  “Oh, aunt, it is really not so terrible. His letter to me was not remotely scandalous in any way. It was actually quite romantic. Here…” Cordelia unfolded Mr. Snowley’s letter and read aloud, “My dearest Miss Waverly… not a moment passes when I do not think of you, and imagine your beautiful face. Your lips, your sunset hair, your lovely—”

  Hyacinth interrupted. “It sounds utterly scandalous to me! Mr. Snowley should be reprimanded, and you should not encourage him! A young lady’s reputation is very important, and it is not proper to receive letters of such a lascivious nature.”

  “Hyacinth, it is not—”

  Her aunt did not care to hear what she had to say, “Cordelia… will you step outside with me? I must speak with you… in private.”

  “But I—”

  “Now!” the older woman commanded, and with slumped shoulders, Cordelia ceded to her demands. As Cordelia shuffled away in shame, Frank exchanged nervous glances with Hester.

  When she was alone with her niece, Hyacinth said, “My dear, you need to be more mindful of what you say and do. I believe you are a kind, good-spirited young lady, but you often have little regard for the feelings of others.”

  “I respectfully disagree with you!” Cordelia exclaimed. “I care about others very much! And if I have hurt someone, I deeply apologize.”

  “It is very possible you will hurt someone if you carry on as you have been.” Hyacinth paused, hoping Cordelia would understand what she meant, but the girl looked positively clueless. “I am referring to Frank, of course. You have doted on him, flirted with him and—if I am to understand correctly—you have kissed him. However, it is obvious you have no genuine interest in the young man, and you manipulate his emotions for your own amusement.”

  “I am very fond of Frank!” Cordelia protested. “Exceedingly so!”

  Her aunt continued with unabashed brutality. “That may be so, but as a romantic prospect? Quite honestly, he does not stand a chance. You would discard him as easily as you would discard an apple’s core. And Frank, who knows little of the world, would be crushed. I would advise him not to set his heart on you, but I doubt he would listen, not after the way you have doted on him. I would almost prefer it if he formed an attachment to your sister, even if she is rather old for him. She seems much more likely to return his feelings.”

  “You.. are…” Cordelia could feel the heat of tears building in the rims of her eyes.

  “I am what, dear?” Hyacinth urged her to finish her sentence. “Honest? Shrewd?”

  “A shrew, more like… and unnecessarily cruel!” Cordelia whirled away and stormed down the hall in the opposite direction. “Now, if you don’t mind, I shall take my leave!”

  “Do not turn your back on me, Cordelia!” Hyacinth wailed. “You are an ungrateful, tempestuous, disrespectful young woman, and now I understand why your father wanted to be rid of you!”

  Meanwhile, inside the sitting room, Frank and Hester were simultaneously wincing as they listened to the dispute. Though they could not discern the words, they could hear shouting, and it was enough to make Hester feel uneasy. She knew how overbearing Cordelia could be, and she did not want them to become a nuisance to their aunt.

  “It sounds as if your sister might be on the receiving end of a rather merciless lecture,” Frank observed.

  “If so, it is long overdue. Cordelia’s behavior can be a bit… shameless. It may only be a matter of time before she does or says something that will ruin her.”

  “Yesterday,” Frank frowned, “she was unnecessarily cruel to you.”

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thought so.” As the conversation merited her full attention, Hester closed the book she was reading. “I believe my sister is a kind and caring person… but she could benefit from heeding the advice of others.

  “As I’m sure we all could.”

  “Indeed. Those are wise words.” Hester hesitated for a moment, then she told him, “Mr. Hargrave is to visit us today.”

  “Is that so? Hmm.” Frank’s frown dipped deeper. “I assume there is no Mr. Snowley coming, or Cordelia would have surely announced it by now.”

  “No, it is only Mr. Hargrave. I must say, it is refreshing to be courted at this age. I assumed I was well past the age where I could capture a gentleman’s attention.”

  “Mr. Hargrave seemed like a decent man,” Frank said. “And you, of course, are a lovely woman. No matter what age you are, he is wise to pursue you.”

  Hester did not think she was capable of blushing, but she could feel heat flooding her cheeks. “Oh, Frank… you really are too kind!”

  “I am honest,” he corrected her. “And if you return Mr. Hargrave’s affection in any capacity, he is a very lucky man.”

  Hester had but a moment to appreciate Frank’s praise. A few seconds later, Mr. Hargrave’s arrival was announced. When he entered the sitting room, Nomad was hovering by his ankles.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Hester leapt from her seat and went to retrieve the dog. “He likes people… perhaps a bit too much. He was so close to your feet, it is a wonder you did not trample him!” When she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she realized how terribly messy her hair was. Flyaway strands were protruding from her bun in every direction. She hoped her beau would not mind her frightful appearance.

  “You needn’t apologize on behalf of a friendly dog. I am a lover of animals, so I relished the attention,” Mr. Hargrave said. “Miss Waverly, you look as lovely as ever.”

  “I… appreciate the compliment.” Her cheek
s were inflamed even further by his praise. When Nomad leapt away from her and raced into Frank’s lap, she felt a bit betrayed. “You look… very handsome.”

  She returned his compliment so quietly, Mr. Hargrave did not hear her. As he watched Nomad nuzzle Frank’s lap, he said, “I prefer cats, though. They’re generally cleaner and require less attention.”

  Hester did not respond to him for some time, so Frank came to her rescue and said, “I prefer dogs. I’ve seen too many cats ruin too many perfectly good pieces of furniture. I believe you can still find the evidence on this sofa. Look.” Frank pointed to several imperfections in the wood. “Scratch marks.”

  “True, they can be destructive,” Mr. Hargrave agreed, then he said to Hester, “Miss Waverly, I brought you a book.”

  “Oh?” When he handed her the gift, she accepted it with a smile. “How very kind of you.”

  “It is a book of poetry, featuring one of my favorite authors. Keats.” From memory, he recited: “A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness, but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”

  “I’ve never known a man who recites poetry,” Hester said.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Oh, very much.” Hester could feel her smile hovering weakly on her lips. She desperately wanted to be charming and engaging, but she had no idea what to say to him. She wished her sister was present; Cordelia always put her at ease. Her sister had a way with men that made her unforgettable to them. Hester, unfortunately, had the opposite effect on men. “So… Mr. Hargrave…” She had no idea what to discuss with him, so she settled on the first topic that came to mind. “How is the weather today?”

  “Wet,” he replied with a sigh. She wondered what that sigh meant—was he bored? “My coat got a bit wet as I entered the cottage.”

  “Oh. Indeed. My sister and I were supposed to go into town, but the rain changed our plans.” For a few seconds, Hester chewed her bottom lip. “So… I suppose it was silly of me to inquire about the weather?”

  “It is quite alright.” Mr. Hargrave motioned toward the pianoforte in the sitting room. “Do you play, Miss Waverly?”

  “Alas, I do not. My sister got all of the musical talent, I am afraid.”

  “Cordelia wasn’t demonstrating that talent to the best of her ability yesterday, however,” Frank added with a chuckle.

  “She is capable of more, Frank, I assure you. And she has a lovely voice as well. I, on the other hand, sing rather badly.” Hester winced. As she sang her sister’s praises, she was making herself sound unappealing. She wanted to charm Mr. Hargrave, not put him off. A dreadful silence confirmed her fears: she was already losing his interest. Their discussion was obviously strained. “Do you have any musical talent, Mr. Hargrave.”

  “A bit, though I haven’t played in years.” After another painfully long pause, Mr. Hargrave said, “You seem a bit distracted. Did I come at a bad time?”

  “N-no! N-not at all!” Hester stammered. Her fingers drummed against the cover of Cecil’s book as she tried to think of a way to keep him engaged. “We can… we… perhaps we could discuss our favorite poets?”

  Despite Hester’s best efforts, Mr. Hargrave was already on his feet. “Actually, Miss Waverly, I should take my leave. It was a pleasure to see you again. I hope you enjoy my gift.”

  “Oh, please, Mr. Hargrave, you needn’t leave so quickly!” Hester ran a hand along her forehead in despair. Was she really so dull that he needed to flee immediately? What did he expect of her? It wasn’t as if he was putting much effort into entertaining her. “I am sure there is much more we could discuss.”

  “As much as that would please me, I really must go,” he insisted, and headed toward the door without so much as looking back at her. “Good day.”

  And then he was gone. His speedy exit left Hester slack-jawed and stupefied. Some time later, she turned in Frank’s direction and said, “Well… that was abrupt.”

  “So it was.” Frank smiled sympathetically. “Perhaps he did not like me gawking at him. Should I have excused myself?”

  “I am afraid his dash for the door had little to do with you and everything to do with me.” When Hester glanced at Nomad, she swore she heard him whimpering. She was so pathetic, even the dog was pitying her. “When it comes to flirting, I am completely hopeless. Has anyone ever failed as miserably as I have?”

  “Do you think there was some reason for his quick departure… an emergency of some sort, or urgent business?”

  “That is very optimistic of you, Frank,” Hester said, and tossed Mr. Hargrave’s book of poetry aside. “However, it seems much more likely that I’ve simply lost his interest.”

  “If he has any sense at all, he won’t lose interest,” Frank tried to reassure her. “He will never find anyone better than you.”

  “Oh… Frank…” Hester clasped a hand over her heart. “I am certain I am not worthy of such kindness, but that is a very wonderful thing to say!”

  “I meant it.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever said something so kind to me,” Hester continued. “I don’t believe I have met anyone quite as good and thoughtful as you. And if my sister had any sense at all, she would abandon her pursuit of Alexander Snowley and focus on you instead.”

  Frank pointed at the book of poetry beside Hester. “May I see that?” Hester passed it to him without a word, and as he reached for the book, Nomad leapt from his lap with a snort. As Frank thumbed through the pages, he was shaking his head at everything he read.

  “You don’t approve of Keats?” Hester asked.

  “No… on the contrary, his words are very inspiring, and he makes me feel inefficient.” After skimming through several pages, Frank had seen enough. He set the book aside and turned his attention back to Hester. “My words seem very trite by comparison.”

  “Do you write?”

  “I do… on occasion. Mostly poetry, although not in the same style as Keats. My poetry is very… commonplace.”

  “I am sure it is better than you think.”

  “I appreciate you trying to encourage me, Hester, but I can see I am an amateur.” Frank looked away and confessed, “I… I wrote a poem for your sister.”

  “Did you? I should like to read it!” Hester exclaimed. “I am sure Cordelia would as well.”

  “No. I’ll never share it with anyone… least of all, Cordelia herself.” Frank winced at the idea of it. “I feel like a fool for writing it. I feel like a fool for imagining myself with her at all. Cordelia would never care for me as I cared for her.”

  “Frank…” Hester did not know how to reassure him, or whether she should even try to do so. Anything she said would surely sound patronizing. Cordelia falling for him seemed very unlikely.

  “I suppose… if I truly was a fool, I would continue to harbor false hopes. But I have no unreasonable expectations. I am not so ignorant of the ways of the world.”

  “The world can be… cruel.” Hester’s words were offered with a shrug. “But you are still very young. I am sure you will have many opportunities.”

  “Will I? You are kind to say that, Hester, but I doubt it. No one wants an invalid hero…” Frank’s eyes dropped to his walking sticks, and his lips quivered slightly. “And no woman would ever dream of me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hester was so focused on Mr. Hargrave, she nearly missed her sister’s news. Ever since they entered the assembly room, Cecil had approached every woman except for her—and most of them were even younger than Hester. She hadn’t taken him for a cad, but he was effectively proving her wrong. Apparently, Mr. Hargrave was the type of man to flirt with several women at once, and all of them were young enough to be his daughters. It was disappointing, to say the least, that her only promising beau had proven to be just as despicable as every other man. When she saw him whispering in the ear of a simpering twenty-year-old, Hester decided he was no lon
ger worthy of her time. If that was the sort of woman he wanted, why did he ever feign interest in her?

  “Mr. Snowley asked me to marry him.”

  Hester was so focused on Cecil Hargrave, it took her a moment to absorb her sister’s words. Her response, though delayed, was no less shocked than Cordelia expected. “Pardon? Did I hear you correctly? Mr. Snowley proposed to you?”

  “He did!” Cordelia squeaked excitedly. She hoisted her fan, hiding her blushing cheeks behind the silken ornament.

  “That was… rather fast. Did you refuse him?”

  “Of course I did not refuse him! I told him I would consider it. Hmm… Cordelia Snowley…” Her eyes swelled as she uttered the name. “That sounds very agreeable.”

  “You have known him for a week, Cordelia. Is that really enough time to decide you want to spend the rest of your life with someone?”

  “Actually, I have known him for ten days,” Cordelia asserted, as if a mere few days made a world of difference. “And I do like him. Very much! Would I be mad to accept his offer of marriage? He is so beautiful and charming and I cannot think of anyone I like more than him!”

  “Lord Cavendish?” Hester reminded her of the London beau for which she had, not long ago, professed her undying affection.

  “Ever since I met Mr. Snowley, I have not given him a thought!”

  “Frank?”

  “Frank…” Cordelia sounded a bit despondent as she uttered his name. “Do you think he’s formed an attachment to me? It would be such a shame to let him down… although I never seriously considered him as a prospect. Is it very cruel of me to say that?”

  “You were wrong to give him hope,” Hester chided her. “You kissed him.”

  “And… what does that mean? A kiss is hardly an offer of marriage, Hes. While Frank is very kind, I did not intend for him to like me quite so much.

  “Whether it was your intention or not, you accomplished it… and you will break the young man’s heart.” With a sigh, Hester glanced in the direction of Mr. Hargrave. He was surrounded by three women, all of them younger and prettier than her. She did not intend to like him quite so much. Was she a fool for thinking his interest was genuine? In that regard, she had much in common with Frank. They had both foolishly invested their feelings in someone who would never appreciate them.