Why did such a simple thing feel so momentous? He held his smile in her direction. “Then I shall. And anyone may call me Aubrey, if they prefer. Ingram is a reminder of my responsibilities, which I do not need in this moment.”
A light round of chuckling lit the room almost musically.
“Right,” he said with a clap of his hands. “What else?”
“Comportment,” Charlotte said with some firmness. “How she walks and moves, the manner in which she holds herself.”
“Which Grace excels at,” Edith added quietly.
“Conversation,” Izzy suggested. “Especially with the male sex, as it relates to her present state.”
“Tea?” Elinor wrinkled up her nose in indecision. “Face and figure?”
“All of which Grace excels at,” Edith added again.
Charlotte huffed and looked at her in exasperation. “We know that Grace excels in everything, Edith, but there is nothing we can do about that when her father is subjecting her to an evaluation. Helping Aubrey is not betraying Grace.”
Edith did not look remotely convinced, but she wasn’t exactly looking sour either.
He quite liked her defensive streak where Grace was concerned. She deserved someone like Edith in her life.
“Her writing,” Izzy said, clearly trying to smooth over the moment. “Composition of a letter, for example.”
“Or an article,” Elinor added with repeated nods.
Charlotte gasped. “Are you suggesting we inform Aubrey as to which articles Grace writes? Betray our anonymity?”
Edith rolled her eyes, laughing. She looked at Aubrey with remnants of the laughter. “I don’t know which part of this I am sorrier for, Ingram. Your forced involvement with us or your task of finding faults in Grace. I can only apologize for all of it as a whole.”
Aubrey grinned, then sobered in mock solemnity. “Thank you, Lady Edith. I shall do my utmost to endure with a good, Christian charity about me.”
Georgie scoffed across the room. “If only I believed that.”
“Speaking of,” Elinor broke in, looking around, “do we evaluate her religious devotion?”
Charlotte made a face. “Only if we run out of other things and her father wants a God-fearing daughter. I wasn’t aware he had any religion at all but what he thinks of himself.”
“Charlotte Wright!” Prue protested, her cheeks coloring, though she smiled at it.
“He’s about as Christian as your mother, Prudence,” Charlotte shot back with a devious smile. “Which tells me your father named you Prudence, for your mother wouldn’t be at all familiar with the word or the virtue.”
Prue covered her face in laughter, though Aubrey could see her cheeks flaming beneath her hands.
Edith leaned over to him. “You wouldn’t believe what a remarkable sight that is, Ingram. To see her laughing about something anyone said about her mother. ‘Tis a glorious thing.”
Aubrey nodded in understanding. He hadn’t experienced Prue’s crippling shyness from before, though he had certainly heard about it. He wasn’t sure how anything about her mother related, or why it should be so humorous, but that was neither here nor there.
“Her tastes in reading ought to be evaluated,” Charlotte went on, ignoring Prue’s muffled laughter. “One does not wish to be a bluestocking, but one must be well-informed, and certainly have read current novels of taste.”
Georgie made a face. “Her father might find that a flaw. Novels are sometimes controversial.”
Charlotte waved a hand at that. “A little controversy is good for a body.”
Aubrey snorted to himself, but Edith heard him.
“I hope she writes a guidebook for young ladies one of these days,” Edith murmured, reaching for the tea set and pouring herself some. She looked at Aubrey. “Would you care for a cup?”
He nodded absently. “Please. However you take it is fine.”
Edith winked, and poured him some, then handed the cup and saucer to him.
“Oh, what about games?” Georgie suggested. “Lawn bowls and pall mall and cards and the like.”
“Excellent thought,” Charlotte praised, whirling to Elinor. “Have you been getting all of this down?”
Elinor turned the page over and kept scribbling. “Yes, yes, I’ve got it.”
“Oh, good,” Aubrey replied weakly. “I was ever so worried we would miss one.”
Georgie grinned at him. “Are you overwhelmed, Ingram?”
He gave her an equally weak smile. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“Well, it shouldn’t be easy to find flaws in someone like Grace,” she replied without concern.
Charlotte nodded her approval. “And it won’t be easy, Aubrey. Not in the least.”
Prue winced as she looked at him. “It is really going to be a struggle, I am s-sorry to say.”
“You’re going to get very frustrated,” Elinor said bluntly.
“And we really won’t be of very much help,” Izzy added with some sympathy. “We adore her too much.”
Edith reached over and patted his hand. “You’ll likely regret ever agreeing to this.”
Aubrey looked around the room, feeling suddenly incredibly small and quite disheartened. He scowled. “You’re all being very helpful. Really. So encouraging.”
Charlotte grinned rather swiftly. “You’re all on your own, Aubrey. We’re hoping you find nothing so that her father will finally shut up about the whole thing.”
Finally? What did she mean by that? He was going to demand an explanation when the sounds of the pianoforte flowed into the room, a beautiful concerto that seemed filled with every emotion one had the ability to contain. Faintly, a clear voice could be heard singing with it, though the words were lost.
It was a stirring, almost heavenly experience, so different from the recent flurry of their conversation that it ought to have been a jarring shift.
Except it wasn’t.
It was absolute perfection.
Blinking was suddenly difficult, and the tension in his chest was remarkably uncomfortable. Music was something he was occasionally sensitive to, but not like this. He sipped at his tea, not quite tasting it, waiting for someone to say something.
Anything, really.
“That, Ingram,” Georgie said at last, pointing towards the music room. “That is what you have to find fault in.”
He smiled grimly and swallowed his tea.
This was going to be hell.
Chapter Nine
One should never intentionally find fault in a young lady. Never. One should let the faults appear naturally, and then ignore them as politely as possible.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 9 August 1817
“Breathe. Just breathe. You can do this. It will be fine.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Aubrey glared at Locke, who stood in the doorway of his bedchamber. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear your speech twice, my lord.”
Aubrey frowned and looked at his valet, currently finishing his cravat. “Sundrey, you knew about this?”
Sundrey didn’t even look up. “I am so fixated on my task, my lord, that I pay no mind to who or what is at the door.”
“Liar.”
Sundrey met his eye then. “It’s not my business to report on Locke’s position or movements, sir.”
Aubrey frowned at his servants in turn. “Remind me to check the silver when I return tonight. There is no telling how Locke behaves if no one checks him.”
“I shall lay it out for your inspection, sir,” Locke recited with a half bow.
Aubrey nodded, then glanced at the butler again. “How much silver do we have, anyway?”
Locke’s lips quirked, but he did not smile. “I will leave the numbers out for you as well, sir.”
Damnation, he was so close to getting the man to break, but he had clearly underestimated the strength of his butler’s composure.
“What is it, Locke?” Aubrey finally
asked with a laugh. “Do you have something for me?”
“Sir, you have received a message from Miss Morledge of Trenwick House.”
Aubrey’s brows shot up, and he started to turn towards the butler, only to have Sundrey yank him back rather forcibly to finish his task.
“Steady on, Sundrey,” Aubrey muttered. “Kindly remember who employs you.”
“Sorry, sir,” Sundrey replied without any hint of apology. “Kindly remember who dresses you.”
Fair point.
“What does Grace want?” Aubrey asked, tilting his head towards Locke as much as he could without being punished again.
“I did not open the missive, sir,” came the prompt reply
“Kindly do so,” Aubrey ordered with a sigh. “As you can see, I am presently detained.”
The sound of a seal breaking and paper unfolding filled the room. Aubrey had the sudden urge to tap his toes against the floor, but he resisted.
His knees, however, began an odd bouncing where he stood. That one he let go.
“She begs to inform your lordship,” Locke began, “that she is waiting upon your arrival with some anxiety, as she wishes to begin, and also begs to inform you that her father will be occupied with business the whole course of the day, and thus you will not be encumbered with his presence.”
Aubrey frowned and turned even more to face Locke. “All right. How did she say it, Locke?”
Sundrey tugged him back to center as he pinned the cravat.
Locke grunted softly. “She said, and I quote, ‘I am already anxious and nervous, so get here soon so we can get this over with. Also, Father won’t be a problem today. He’s meeting with solicitors all day, for which we can both give thanks.’”
Aubrey grinned and chuckled at Locke’s almost disgusted tone. “That sounds more like Grace. I am sure she would appreciate your making it all sound so much more polite.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You should meet her, Locke,” Aubrey suggested as Sundrey finally stepped away to fetch his coat. “She is rumored to be the most perfect woman.”
Locke did not look convinced. “The tone of this missive would suggest otherwise, sir.”
Was his stodgy butler expressing his own opinion? Would wonders never cease?
Aubrey slid his arms into the coat that Sundrey held out for him. “Oh, she’s only like that with me, Locke. She spars with words better than most men with fists. Again, only with me. As far as I can tell, at any rate.”
Locke gave another half bow. “Then, I have no reason to doubt rumors of her perfection, my lord.” He turned and removed himself from the doorway, leaving Aubrey and Sundrey gaping in the bedchamber.
“Did he just…?” Aubrey began, unable to complete the thought.
“He did, sir,” Sundrey confirmed, no less at a loss.
Aubrey shook his head, then looked at his valet rather blandly. “I’d dismiss him, but I’m almost perishing with curiosity.”
Sundrey gave an approving nod. “Indeed, sir. As am I.”
Nodding to his valet, and tugging briefly at his cuffs, Aubrey strode out of the room and down to his waiting carriage.
Despite Locke’s slightly mocking statement, Aubrey continued to encourage himself to breathe and to remember that this was not a battle. It might feel as though he were going into treacherous territory, and possibly would risk life or limb doing so, but he was simply calling upon Grace Morledge. And beginning the process of finding faults in her.
Her. A very nearly perfect woman.
No pressure.
He swallowed and tugged a little at his cravat, taking care not to disrupt Sundrey’s meticulous work. He knew better than that. Somehow Sundrey always knew when he did something, and his scolding look was rather like the ones he had received in childhood.
It would be fine. It would all be fine. It was just Grace.
A ridiculous bubble of mirth welled up, and he laughed rather heartily at himself.
Just Grace.
There was no such thing.
Far too soon, he was at Trenwick House, and Bennett was letting him in, surprisingly cool towards him. None of the warmth or wit of late, and it was almost as if he refused to meet Aubrey’s eyes.
One butler teasing him, the other ignoring him. Clearly there was some butler conspiracy against him to turn him more than slightly mad. Provided this venture didn’t do that first.
He was silently shown into the drawing room they had met in before, and then Bennett was gone.
Aubrey stared after him, then turned towards Grace, who was standing by the window as though she had been posed for a portrait.
“Is he angry with me?” Aubrey asked, gesturing behind him.
Grace smiled, though it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “He is, yes. He doesn’t like the idea of someone finding fault with me.”
“I’m not particularly keen on the idea, either,” Aubrey protested, “but I didn’t really have a say in the matter. Does he know that?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve tried to tell him, but he is really quite resistant to hearing anything about it.”
Aubrey shook his head. “How peculiar.”
“That’s not the only thing.”
No, it was not.
It was then that he properly looked at Grace. Her fingers were clenched tightly together, her posture was perfectly straight, shoulders high, and her face, while perfectly composed, held all the signs of strain. And then there were her eyes: dark, wide, and utterly terrified.
“Heavens…” Aubrey shook his head. “You really are afraid.”
She nodded jerkily, exhaling a brief sigh. “I really am.”
For some reason, that made his own nerves ease. “It’s just me, Grace. We agreed this would be as painless as possible.”
“For you,” she corrected, her voice wavering. “I am the one being examined. Everything I say or do, or don’t say or don’t do, is now being evaluated for any little mistake. I don’t know that there is a painless way to do it.”
Aubrey stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “I know. I was more nervous on the drive over this morning than I’d ever thought possible.”
“You were? Why?”
He let his mouth curve into a crooked smile. “Because I’m supposed to be analyzing you for faults, which is something that will not be easy for me and will cause pain to you.”
Grace swallowed with some difficulty. “You don’t seem nervous now.”
“I’m not,” he admitted easily, and surprisingly truthfully.
“Why? How?”
He smiled further still. “I came here, I saw you, and I was reminded that we are friends, which means we can make this experience whatever we want it to be. There are no rules, and there are no expectations. It’s just us.”
Grace stared at him for a long moment, then her shoulders relaxed, as did her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
“Of course, I am.”
She glared. “Don’t take that as a statement of consistency on previous behaviors. I only mean this time.”
He nodded sagely, folding his arms. “Naturally.”
“I’m serious, Aubrey.”
“So I see.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So we have established. That, I believe, will be a consistency. I’m quite certain about it.” He nodded again, pressing his lips together.
Finally, Grace smiled, lighting the room quite effectively. “Right. Shall we begin, then?”
Aubrey nodded, delighted to have the Grace he liked best returned to him. This was an uncomfortable situation, and if they were not at the very least comfortable with each other, it would only get worse. He needed to be comfortable with Grace. He needed her to be comfortable with him.
Why, he couldn’t say. He refused to dwell on it. He only knew he needed it.
Grace came closer and stood before him. “What will we be focusing on today?”
Aubrey had been thi
nking about this, and he knew how to begin. He might not know how to proceed after that, but he knew how to begin.
“Actually, before we get started, I have to ask: why do you think you’re a spinster?”
The question earned him a blink and a blank stare. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
She scoffed softly. “If I knew that, there would be no need to do this.”
“Humor me,” he said with the utmost patience.
Grace gave him an odd look, then looked away, her brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t know,” she eventually murmured.
Aubrey tsked with a hint of a scold. “Grace…”
Her eyes met his, utterly serious. “I don’t know why I’m a spinster. I’ve always been this way, and it’s never been enough to attract a suitor.”
Wait, never? How could she never have had a suitor?
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know how to be anything else. I can only presume I’m not enough as I am, as all the evidence of my past proves. So, I carry on, on my own. What seems to come easily to me is just as painful now as it was the very first day I bore it. Only my acting has improved.” She smiled sadly, but there was still no hint of pity in it.
Aubrey stared at her, in awe and in disbelief. “I don’t know that I have ever met a spinster quite like you.”
Her smile turned far less sad. “Well, there is quite a variety to the spinster status. We’re not all cut from the same cloth, you know.”
“As the meeting the other day proved.”
She laughed, and very faint lines creased at the corners of her eyes, which was strangely adorable. “Yes, there is variety even within the Spinsters with a capital S. But here’s the thing about spinsters, Aubrey, not all of us have similar situations. Not all of us are upset about our status, and not all of us find satisfaction in it. Charlotte is an heiress, and she has no need to marry if she does not wish to. Lady Hetty was the same way. In the lower classes, a woman who is unmarried can find employment and fulfillment. But for the rest of us, it is a sea of murky waters and no sure way to navigate them.” She wrinkled up her nose and leaned forward as if to convey a secret. “And we don’t really like to be called spinsters. It’s not very flattering.”
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