Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3)

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Spinster and Spice (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 3) Page 22

by Rebecca Connolly


  Mrs. Larkin, a rotund and ridiculous woman, fluttered in apparent delight at Izzy’s arrival. “Oh, my dear girl, dear Isabella, I was only just saying that there is something absolutely and adamantly wrong with the men of this world.”

  “Is there?” Izzy asked, keeping her tone as mild as possible.

  “There’s a surprise for us,” Lady Hetty cackled, tapping her walking stick on the ground.

  “Especially in light of the fact that none of them have offered for you, dear girl.” Mrs. Larkin clucked in discouragement. “I quite despair of the lot of them. Why can none of them see you for the treasure you are?”

  Izzy smiled very tightly, exhaling slowly through her nose.

  “You are so kind, Mrs. Larkin,” Izzy’s mother said with all the kindness a mother can possess. “We wonder the same thing about our Izzy all the time.”

  They all looked at Izzy for her reaction, and yet Izzy had none.

  It had all been said before.

  Mrs. Larkin seemed to sense it was not something Izzy wished to discuss and clucked again. “Well, do not let it discourage you, Isabella. I am quite sure it will happen very soon, and then you will be happy.”

  Now Izzy’s mother appeared to be forcing her smile, and she quickly took Mrs. Larkin to inspect a painting on the Johnstons’ wall. She paused only briefly to give Izzy an apologetic look over her shoulder.

  Left with only Lady Hetty, Izzy let her face relax, and ceased pretending at politeness.

  “Very good, child,” Lady Hetty praised as she took a seat. “Now cease biting your tongue before it bleeds.”

  That made Izzy smile a little, and she moved to stand against the wall.

  “Are you all right?” Sebastian asked, suddenly at her side.

  Izzy nodded her head, the wallpaper scratching audibly with the movement.

  One look at him told her he did not believe that, and she shifted to shaking her head.

  “I heard what was said,” he told her, lowering his voice further still. “I hope that…”

  Izzy waved a hand, silencing him. “Trust me, Sebastian. I have heard it all before. I am quite used to it.”

  “We all are,” Lady Hetty added with a meaningful look. “It’s all very helpful, as you can imagine.”

  “ ‘You’ll find your husband somewhere,’ ” Izzy mimicked, keeping her voice soft. “ ‘Why aren’t you married, child?’ ‘Someday it will be you.’ ‘I can’t imagine how difficult this wedding is for you.’ ”

  Sebastian leaned against the wall beside her, facing her, listening and watching with an intensity that emboldened her.

  She closed her eyes and tapped her head against the wall once. “I am perfectly capable of enjoying the good things in the lives of others without feeling desolated about myself. Why does everyone around me assume that a woman must have a husband in order to have a fulfilling life?”

  “Is that what they said?” Sebastian asked sharply, a defense audible.

  “Never in those words,” Izzy said, releasing a sigh, “but the meaning is clear.”

  “So, you are opposed to matrimony, then.”

  Izzy’s eyes sprang open, and she looked at him in anguish. “No! No, not at all, but everybody always assumes that. I think it would be perfectly lovely to be married and to have children, to run a house, and everything else. I want that for myself more than I can dare express. But can nobody see that until that comes, if indeed it comes, I am simply trying to do the best I can?”

  “I would never have suspected it troubles you this much,” Sebastian murmured, shaking his head. “Or pretend to understand why you aren’t depressed or even melancholy. You just smile and continue on.”

  “You think I am always happy?” she asked, looking up at him. “That I fall asleep at night with a smile and wake with one in the morning? I have been through a more desolate wilderness of feeling than most people will ever understand. Days and days of being utterly useless to anybody not because I wallow in despair, but because I wander through my life without a set purpose or true joy or real interest.” She looked away, her throat burning and raw. “My private moments have been filled with agony and tears, and just because I refuse to show that to the world does not mean I have not felt it. But I cannot live in that misery, so I will smile and speak kindly and fill the world with optimism publicly while the pain of lost wishes and foregone hopes remains my private torment.”

  Sebastian surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her hand, a comforting gesture that weakened and strengthened her at the same time. She looked back to him and found a gentle, encouraging smile upon his lips, and the sight warmed her considerably.

  “I’m going to fetch you a drink,” he murmured, his eyes caressing her face. “I think you’ve earned it.”

  Izzy smiled in gratitude, nodding at him, feeling strangely bereft when he moved away and their hands parted.

  Lady Hetty thumped her walking stick again. “You will get such things every day of your life, my dear, until you are either married or dead.”

  “I know,” Izzy sighed, watching Sebastian walk away.

  “And it is only because they do not know what to say.”

  She looked over at the older woman, her smile turning into one of understanding. “I know that, as well.”

  Lady Hetty’s eyes speared her and held her attention. “And when they have known the joy that can come from love and marriage and children, and they see a woman they care enough about and think so highly of, they desire nothing more than that she, too, should know such joy in her life.”

  “But must they express it?” Izzy asked her, not bothering to hide her irritation. “It reminds me of all that I lack in that regard. I am trying to go on with my life, and though I am not an heiress, I would like to think that should I remain a spinster forever, my life might still have meaning and purpose.”

  “Gentle heart, it already has,” Lady Hetty insisted. She smiled with more gentleness than Izzy had ever seen from her. “If I had been more like you in my youth, perhaps I would have been blessed with a love to sustain me and matrimony to keep me from loneliness. And I do not say that to join the ranks of those who are not helpful in their remarks, I only say so because I believe very firmly that there is nothing lacking in you to such a degree that you are unworthy of the love and situation you seek.”

  Touched beyond measure, Izzy found her throat clogged with emotion that she struggled to swallow down. “Thank you,” she eventually managed.

  Lady Hetty nodded, her eyes turning almost misty. Then she looked away, apparently surveying the card room. “I never married, as you know, and I was never in a position where I needed to for my own security. My family was wealthy and powerful, so an heiress I was, and my position in life secure. And I never found a love that would persuade me into matrimony, risking everything I already had for the sake of my heart.”

  Now it was Izzy who was leaning closer, transfixed by the raw confession of this terrifying woman she had come to respect and admire, if not fear, in a way.

  “I’ll never know if I would have done it,” Lady Hetty went on. She turned in her chair to look up at Izzy, her gaze serious indeed. “I have no regrets, and my life has been full. A woman can be complete on her own and in her own merits. But in this day and age, child, even that is rarely good enough. Make your plans, stay your course, and trust that the path of your life will make itself known, one way or the other.”

  “And if I never marry?” Izzy dared to ask, smiling for effect. “My family is not wealthy, my lady, and we have no position. I will be a burden upon them all my days.”

  Lady Hetty held out a wrinkled hand to her, and Izzy took it. “Come be my burden, dear, if that comes to pass. I can always use a companion, and it would be good to have another spinster inherit.”

  It was a kind offer, and terribly sweet, but there was no possibility of Izzy taking up Lady Hetty’s offer, or her inheritance. If it came to it, Izzy would retire to a cottage in the country and live out he
r days in solitude. If her publications were successful, she would have funds enough to sustain herself, and while it would not be the sort of independence any woman might hope to achieve, it could be enough to avoid poverty, or the need to rely on her family for support.

  But she smiled and nodded anyway, if only to assure the older woman that Izzy had heard her words and taken them to heart.

  Sebastian returned to her then, drink in hand, and gave it to her. “Here, Iz. I don’t know what Miranda has done to it, so be careful.”

  Izzy chuckled at that, sipping cautiously. “One never knows with Miranda.” She hummed at the taste and grinned at him. “Seems to be quite all right.”

  “Give it time,” he assured her, more relaxed than she had ever seen him in company. “Some of the strongest drinks have the subtlest effects.”

  “Are you a connoisseur of strong drinks, Mr. Gentleman Morton?” Izzy teased, sipping again.

  He laughed to himself and his eyes traced her features. “No, Miss Lambert, I leave that unfortunate habit to men like Henshaw and Sterling.”

  Something he saw seemed to amuse him, and Izzy tilted her head at him. “What? What do you see?”

  His mouth curled into a tender smile. “So much.” He exhaled very softly. “I missed you, Iz. I didn’t even know how much until I saw you come in.”

  Izzy’s heart skipped a beat, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “It’s been three days,” she whispered, her voice barely audible even to her.

  Sebastian heard it, and his smile grew. “I know,” he whispered back. “I counted every one of the hours.”

  “You’re flattering me,” she scolded weakly, smiling despite her current breathlessness.

  He shook his head very slowly and again reached for her hand, hiding it between them so the other guests wouldn’t see. “No, I’m falling in love with you.”

  She gasped and swayed into the wall, her eyes searching his for any sign of teasing or insincerity.

  She saw none.

  “I thought you needed to know,” he told her, his smile wavering uncertainly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t,” she admitted in a rushing, gasping breath. “I don’t mind at all.”

  He squeezed her hand again, and it was as though he had taken her in his arms and kissed her again. She grinned up at him, giddy and feeling rather reckless at the moment.

  Perhaps she should kiss him anyway, public or no public.

  “Izzy, come and be my partner,” Georgie called, waving her over. “Mr. Morton, come and partner Tony.”

  Without a word, they moved to the card table, releasing hands and avoiding looking at each other. They sat in their respective chairs next to each other, and once settled, commenced with the game.

  Heart pounding wildly in her chest, Izzy did her best to focus on the game, but found nothing to steady her until she slid her foot across the top of Sebastian’s. He turned his foot more towards her, then let it remain beneath hers.

  And it stayed there for all six rounds of cards.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One can always trust Almack’s to be stuffy, overcrowded, and overheated, not to mention overinflated with the self-importance of its attendants and its guardian committee.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 9 May 1817

  “Ah, it is most refreshing to be in company with only the most important and well-respected members of London’s high society.”

  Izzy looked at Charlotte in surprise, grinning at her friend’s dry remarks. “Aren’t most of your suitors outside of the Almack’s circle?”

  Charlotte nodded eagerly, eyes bright. “Less than a quarter received vouchers. Do you know what this means?”

  “That you will be nearly unaccompanied for the first time in six years?” Izzy suggested with a mocking note of hope.

  “Please,” Charlotte sputtered with a laugh. “It means that I have a chance to improve my list of suitors, and potentially actually find one worth keeping!”

  Izzy shook her head. There was just no understanding Charlotte at times. “Well, let me know if any of them might do for Kitty. I can only imagine how terrified she will be tonight.”

  Charlotte was instantly sympathetic. “Oh, poor lamb. Her first Season, and so many new faces and experiences… Almack’s can be so dull at times, but that’s just from our perspective. It’s lost its luster for spinsters like us.” She smiled wistfully at Izzy. “Do you remember when this was all exciting for us?”

  “Barely.” Izzy threw her a wry look. “It was ages ago.”

  “You are twenty-seven, dear,” Charlotte reminded her. “Not in the grave.”

  “No?” Izzy asked, smiling and nodding at acquaintances nearby.

  Charlotte sighed heavily and looped her arm through Izzy’s. “It does feel as though we are ancient at times, doesn’t it?”

  Izzy opened her mouth to answer when Amelia Perry suddenly rushed to them, face alight. “Miss Lambert! Miss Wright! How delightful is Almack’s?”

  “Depends on the day,” Charlotte muttered through a smile.

  “Shush,” Izzy scolded. She brightened as she looked at Amelia again. “Miss Perry, you look lovely. Blue suits you.”

  Amelia blushed prettily and brushed at her skirts anxiously. “You are too kind, Miss Lambert. I am all aflutter. I can scarce believe it. Almack’s!”

  “Steady on, dear girl,” Charlotte told her in the driest tone Izzy had heard her use yet. “It’s only the usual husband hunt on a more selective field.”

  “Charlotte!” Izzy gave her an exasperated look, then turned an apologetic one to Amelia. “Excuse her, please.”

  Amelia shook her head, smiling just as warmly as ever. “I find it entirely refreshing. And I know I am probably ridiculous, but there is no hope for me.”

  “Well, as long as you are aware of it,” Charlotte offered, now smiling herself. “So, Miss Perry, anyone we should be looking out for tonight in your honor?”

  Amelia’s blushes turned rosier, and her smile turned sheepish. “Not really.”

  Charlotte grinned her usual devious grin. “That is not a no, my dear.”

  “I don’t even know if he received a voucher,” Amelia admitted with a wrinkle of her nose.

  “Ah, questionable as to his societal endorsement, are we?” Charlotte nodded in approval. “Good girl. Keep a weather eye open, and if you need any assistance, you only have to ask.”

  Amelia nodded quickly, then turned to go before whirling back. “Oh! I forgot!” She stepped closer and whispered, “I’ve been asked by at least a dozen people if I am the guest writer in the Chronicles. I presume you wish to keep the author anonymous, so I have been entirely ambivalent about the whole thing. It really is a shocking amount of fun.” She beamed and whirled back around, darting gracefully off to another part of the ballroom.

  Charlotte watched her go, then hummed to herself. “You know, I find her sunshine a bit much to take, but I think I like her better than Alice Sterling.”

  Izzy looked at her friend in shock. “That’s surprising. I thought the pair of you were getting on rather well.”

  “Only initially.”

  “Why?”

  Charlotte exhaled, then looked over at the girls in question, now ironically standing near each other. “Amelia is genuine. Alice is a bit of a social climber who doesn’t listen to anyone, not even Francis.”

  Izzy was startled by that, as she hadn’t spent enough time with Alice to know that much about her, or to characterize her nature so.

  “Really?” she asked, less doubtful than surprised.

  Charlotte nodded, smirking a little. “Perhaps she’s more like Horrid Hugh than we thought.”

  Izzy shuddered at the thought. That would be all they needed, a female version of Hugh. Yet Alice hadn’t seemed so poorly behaved when Izzy had conversed with her, and during Hugh’s outburst, Alice had seemed truly distressed.

  She couldn’t be so bad in truth.

  Izzy’s more sympathetic side pr
evailed, and she considered the two girls herself. “Alice is only young,” she suggested to Charlotte.

  Her friend turned to face her, one dubious brow raised. “Even young people are entitled to eyes and sense, if they know where to obtain either.” Charlotte gave her a meaningful look as she strode away, purposefully choosing to venture into the opposite side of the room from Amelia and Alice.

  Izzy shook her head, mumbling under her breath. “Wonderful, Charlotte. Lovely of you to help me with Kitty.”

  “I believe I can be of assistance there.”

  Izzy grinned and turned to smile at her cousin, looking more radiant and like herself than she had in weeks, her gown a brilliant shade of green that enhanced her eyes. And Tony looked beyond pleased with himself to have her on his arm.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come,” Izzy told her cousin, taking her hands. “Are you feeling well enough?”

  Tony rolled his eyes and tugged Georgie closer. “I asked her the same question fourteen times before we arrived, and the answer got more and more vicious with each subsequent asking.”

  “And yet, the questions kept coming,” Georgie quipped, smiling at her husband.

  “Well, if you hadn’t been ill just this morning, I might have believed you one of the first thirteen times,” he retorted. “But the kick to my shins on number fourteen was convincing enough.”

  “In short,” Georgie said, turning to Izzy again, smiling broadly, “yes, I am well enough.”

  Izzy giggled and linked arms with Georgie. “Good. I seem to be attracting all sorts of spinster pity of late, and I cannot swallow one more word of it.”

  Tony chortled and looked around Georgie at Izzy as best he could. “Who are you and what have you done with sweet Isabella?”

  A smug smirk lit Izzy’s lips and she wished Sebastian had heard that. “Sweet Isabella has learned the value of her voice,” Izzy informed him primly, “and is growing accustomed to the sensation of speaking it.”

 

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