The Affairs of Harriet Walters, Spinster

by Cathy Spencer

  “You would have been proud of him. Not only did he win a blue ribbon in his race, but he caught a pig.”

  “Good for him. I’m so glad! Please pass along my congratulations, Mr. Ash. Now that he is covered in glory, his aunt will repeat his successes for months to come, I am sure.”

  Ash laughed. “That is probably too true. I hope that you will not suffer from their repetition, Miss Walters.”

  “Not at all. His great-aunt is justifiably proud of the boy.”

  The schoolmaster glanced down the stairs and saw Harriet’s party waiting. The wind tore at his coat, and scurrying clouds darkened the sky. “But I fear that I’m keeping your aunt and her friends, and it threatens rain.”

  Harriet clutched at her hat before the wind could snatch it away. “Please, do come and say hello to everyone, Mr. Ash. I’d be happy to introduce you to Mrs. Evan’s daughter, too. I’m sure that Mrs. Evans would wonder if I did not bring you over.”

  Mr. Ash turned to look at Mrs. Fitzwilliam. “Yes, I believe that I saw her in church when she visited last year. I would be happy to make her acquaintance.”

  Harriet led the schoolmaster over to her party and made the introduction. “Mr. Ash is a historian and an excellent lecturer, Diane,” her mother added. She went on to describe the schoolmaster’s recent discourse, and the praise he had received from the parish ladies.

  “I am sorry that I missed your lecture, sir. It sounded like a fascinating topic,” Diane said. Ash flushed a little at their compliments and bowed.

  “Young man, we’re going back to my house to have a bite to eat. Why not join us, if Mr. Harris won’t miss you? There’s room for you in our carriage,” Aunt Edna said. Harriet’s eyes widened in surprise; she had never expected any encouragement from her aunt in that direction.

  “Thank you for your invitation,” he stammered, obviously surprised as well. Ash looked around for Mr. Harris and, catching his eye, beckoned for him to join them.

  “Mr. Harris,” he said as the headmaster arrived, “Mrs. Slater has kindly invited me for some luncheon, if you do not require my services this afternoon?”

  “I’ve nothing pressing for you, Joseph. Go and enjoy yourself. Just don’t let the ladies lead you down the path of over-indulgence, eh?” The headmaster patted Ash kindly on the shoulder and nodded to the ladies before departing.

  “Very well, come along with us, sir. Mabel and Diane, we’ll see you back at the house.” Aunt Edna marched toward her carriage with Harriet and Ash following more slowly.

  “What an unexpected kindness, Miss Walters,” the young man said.

  “Yes, I wonder what she means by it?”

  Cook had left a cold lunch for Aunt Edna and her guests which they fully enjoyed. Ash permitted himself one glass of wine with his meal, which made Mrs. Evans tease him about not partaking in more.

  “Even Mrs. Slater and I are indulging in a second glass,” she said. “Or perhaps you would prefer cider?”

  Ash grinned and shook his head. “No thank you, Mrs. Evans. Mrs. Slater’s cider is deceptively potent.”

  “Humph, I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man,” Aunt Edna remarked, drawing laughter from Mrs. Evans and a quizzical look from Diane.

  Diane changed the subject by inquiring into the schoolmaster’s interest in the Roman occupation. The young man warmed to his subject, talking about applying the techniques of the new science of archaeological investigation to the Roman ruins in Bath.

  “How very fascinating. I’ve heard of the work that Napoleon and his scientists did during the Egyptian campaign. So, you’re interested in doing the same in Bath? Tell me, Mr. Ash, have you ever visited Italy to study the Roman remains in situ?”

  “No, although that would be a dream come true. Unfortunately, I do not have the resources for such an expedition.”

  “How frustrating for a scholar such as yourself. Well, maybe someday you will realize your dream. Meanwhile, you have your duties at the school.”

  “Yes, which I really must be getting back to. Thank you very much for your company, ladies, and for your hospitality, Mrs. Slater. It was a pleasant change from my usual Sunday routine.”

  “You are welcome, sir. We enjoyed your company as well, didn’t we, ladies?”

  “Yes, indeed,” they responded.

  Ash rose to make his goodbyes. Harriet half-rose, intending to escort him to the front door, but he exited too quickly to afford her the chance. Aunt Edna watched as Harriet slid back into her chair.

  “Tell me, what did you think of our visitor, Diane?” Aunt Edna asked, turning to the lady.

  “He seemed interesting. Some of the ladies of my London acquaintance also share a fascination with ancient civilizations. For instance, I attended a party at Lady Sloane’s house last summer, and the silly woman had transformed her bedroom into what she imagined the royal chamber of an Egyptian queen to be. What a lot of money she spent on the project, plus the result was an atrocity.” Aunt Edna exclaimed over the absurdity of such an extravagance, and the conversation turned to other topics.

  At the end of the afternoon, Harriet was escorting Diane to the door when the lady extracted a promise from her for a walk the following morning. “Mother is getting so lazy these days that I cannot entice her to walk for more than a mile or two. One of the advantages of village life is its proximity to a good, long, country ramble. I’m sure that you must share my affinity for walking, Miss Walters. Will you come with me tomorrow?”

  “I would enjoy that very much.”

  “Excellent. I’ll call for you at ten o’clock.”

  The morning was clear and dry when the two women embarked upon their walk. They were dressed for the cold December weather and enjoyed the exercise. Harriet begged Diane to describe some of London’s wonders to her, and the lady was happy to oblige. After a time, however, the conversation turned to Harriet, and to her life in Rexton.

  “I understand from Mother that Mr. Ash is a particular friend of yours, Miss Walters,” Diane said.

  “I would not go so far as to say a ‘particular’ friend, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. He is an amiable and intelligent man, and I enjoy our conversations about history and old ruins.”

  “Do call me ‘Diane.’ ‘Mrs. Fitzwilliam’ sounds so stuffy. May I call you ‘Harriet’?”

  “Please do. But as to what your mother says about Mr. Ash, I fear that she flatters me. We have some interests in common, it is true, but I think that he simply enjoys talking to someone who shares his interests.

  “Please do not speak so slightingly of yourself, Harriet. I’m sure that many gentlemen find you appealing.”

  Harriet looked away. “Men do not take any particular notice of me. I’ve come to accept that fact. I am plain and unappealing.”

  “Nonsense, Harriet. You’re willowy and graceful, plus you have a fresh complexion and sympathetic eyes. I know fascinating, successful women who are not nearly as attractive as you. Perhaps you lack the confidence to shine in society, but that is the secret of any woman’s appeal. That, and being a good listener. Gentlemen find it especially flattering when ladies hang upon their every word. Why, with a little practice, men will be clamouring for your attention.”

  Harriet smiled doubtfully. “Really?”

  “Definitely,” Diane said, sliding her arm into Harriet’s. “That is why it’s so important to beware of men who seek you out because of your fortune. I had to be vigilant against such scoundrels before Mr. Fitzwilliam claimed my hand. So you must be cautious with your Mr. Ash.”

  “But, I don’t know what you mean. I have no fortune to tempt a man. If people think that I will inherit from my aunt, they’re mistaken.”

  “You may not be an heiress, my dear, but you’re obviously a lady, and your aunt is a woman of means. Someone seeking financial gain, such as Mr. Ash, might assume that Mrs. Slater will leave you her property when she is gone.”

  “Such a person would be very much mistaken!”

  “Exactly. Now, I kno
w the situation between you and your aunt, but Mr. Ash may not be so well-informed. Just be careful not to encourage him too much, if you do not mind my saying so. How tragic it would be to tie yourself to a schoolmaster only to live the life of a pauper. You must save yourself for someone who can look after you properly, Harriet. You deserve that.”

  Diane squeezed Harriet’s arm in a friendly manner. As they strolled together in silence, Harriet pondered over what Diane had said. She did not like to think of the school master as a fortune hunter, but perhaps that explained his interest in her?

  “Do you really think that Mr. Ash believes I will inherit my aunt’s estate?” she finally said.

  “Just be careful, Harriet. I do not wish to see you unhappily married. I have seen that happen too frequently among my circle to wish to see it happen to you.”

  Harriet nodded and took Diane’s words to heart. She would not let her enjoyment of Mr. Ash’s friendship sway her good judgement. Diane was a much more experienced and worldly woman than she, and Harriet did not want to appear foolish by falling prey to a fortune hunter.

  The rest of Diane’s visit passed very pleasantly. With Mrs. Evans’ encouragement, Diane and Harriet were constantly in each other’s company. Harriet saw nothing to change her initial opinion of her new friend, despite what her aunt had said.

  When Diane finally returned to London, Harriet felt bereft, as if a bright star had passed from her orbit. Her sole consolation was that Diane had promised to correspond with her, and to pay another visit the following spring. Meanwhile, the Christmas festivities were approaching, and there was a visit with her mother, and with Helen and her family, to anticipate.

  Mrs. Evans dropped in to see Harriet and her aunt the morning after her daughter’s departure. She settled into a comfortable chair before the fire and propped her feet upon a stool.

  “With Miss Walters leaving for the Christmas holidays soon, I thought a little social gathering might be pleasant before she goes. Perhaps a card party or a musical evening? Miss Walters, you have a pretty voice and you’re accomplished on the pianoforte. What would you say to performing before a small circle of our friends?

  “I would not mind accompanying someone else, but I would not feel comfortable singing alone.”

  “Well, we can discuss that later. Would you like me to invite Mr. Ash to the gathering?” Aunt Edna stiffened on the couch beside Harriet.

  “Will Mr. Ash still be in Rexton for your party, Mrs. Evans? I should think that he would be going home to his own family soon for Christmas.”

  “He may be, Miss Walters, but I plan to have my party within the week. I’m sure that the school term will continue at least until then.”

  Harriet looked away. “Of course, you can invite whomever you choose, Mrs. Evans, but please do not invite Mr. Ash for my sake.”

  Mrs. Evans frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought that Mr. Ash was your friend?”

  “I suspect that he enjoys talking to me merely because I am a willing listener.”

  Mrs. Evans frowned and was about to say more when Aunt Edna interrupted. “Harriet, my rose-coloured thread is missing. I must have left it upstairs with my embroidery bag.”

  “I’ll get it for you,” Harriet replied, glad to avoid any further discussion of her friendship with Mr. Ash.

  When she was safely out of earshot, Aunt Edna said, “Mabel, I wish that you would not encourage Harriet to see Mr. Ash. I do not approve of their friendship.”

  “I know your opinion of the young man, but I am sure that Miss Walters likes him, and there are so few eligible young men in Rexton. You must not crush her one chance for happiness.”

  “It’s Harriet’s happiness that I'm thinking of. Would you have her living in squalor on a school teacher’s salary instead of being looked after comfortably by her own family?”

  “Would you prefer that she never have a home of her own, Edna, and be forced to live as a dependent in someone else’s all her life? Would you deprive her of the possibility of a husband and children?”

  “Nonsense, you and I live quite contentedly without a husband and children. Helen has so many children – one of them will always provide a home for Harriet. Her needs will be met and, surrounded by family, she will be less alone than we are.”

  Mrs. Evans sat down on the couch beside her friend. “Really, Edna, I do not understand you. Do you regret having had a husband, children, and a home of your own? Would you take that chance away from your niece?”

  Harriet’s aunt put down her needlepoint to face her friend. “Of course not. How dare you say such a thing to me, Mabel! Mr. Slater was a fine man and a good provider, and my children and grandchildren mean the world to me. They are just not all the world to me, nor is your daughter and her family to you. And that’s how it should be. Husbands die, children grow up and move away, and old women like us find things to do while we await our eternal reward.

  “Oh, Edna, how dreary a picture you paint. What about love? What about the joy of holding your own baby in your arms? Miss Walters is still a young woman with her whole life before her. She has had such a little life, Edna. Don’t ruin her one chance to be more than just a dependent.”

  The two women were quite agitated when they heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway. By the time Harriet entered the room, however, Aunt Edna was placidly sewing on the sofa, and Mrs. Evans was gazing into the fire.

  “Here you are,” Harriet said, delivering the thread.

  “Thank you.”

  Harriet hesitated before saying, “There was something about which I wished to speak to you, Aunt. Mrs. Higgins invited me to a little Christmas gathering at her home this week, an early dinner on Friday. Shall I go, do you think? I did not wish to disappoint her.”

  “Will you be her only guest?”

  “No, she’ll be inviting her great-nephew as well. I suppose that Mr. Ash will be bringing Oliver.” Mrs. Evans shot a sharp look at her friend, who glared back at her. Harriet’s head was bent toward the carpet, so she did not see their exchange.

  “It will be dark earlier and much colder than the last time you attended a party at Mrs. Higgins, Harriet. I suppose that I will have to send you in the carriage, and have it fetch you afterward.”

  Harriet was relieved that her aunt was offering her the carriage; she did not want Mr. Ash to walk her home again. “If you do not mind, Aunt? I would not have to stay for very long. Perhaps an hour would be sufficient.”

  “Well, I suppose that you should go. I’m sure that Reverend Simons would expect as much.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Aunt Edna.” Harriet took a chair and bent her head over her needlework.

  Mrs. Evans cast a worried look in her direction. After a minute, the lady stood up. "Well, I have some correspondence to finish before the afternoon post, so I must be leaving. Miss Walters, would you mind accompanying me on a little errand? I have finished knitting the scarf I made for you, but I forgot to bring it with me today. It promises to be cold this week, and you will be glad of it. Will you come with me to pick it up?”

  Harriet put down her needlepoint. “Certainly, Mrs. Evans. You’re very kind to have knit me a scarf. I’m quite ready to go whenever you are.”

  “Excellent. Goodbye, Edna, and thank you for the coffee and cake.”

  “You’re welcome,” Edna said, giving her friend a quick pinch on the arm when Harriet wasn’t looking. Mrs. Evans batted her hand away and followed Harriet from the room.

  When they arrived at Mrs. Evans’ house, the widow invited Harriet up to her room to fetch the scarf. Harriet had never visited her friend’s bedroom before, and was charmed by the cheerful decor. Embroidered pillows lay piled upon the bed, the dressing table and mirror were crowded with perfume bottles and pretty trinkets, and a comfortable chair, low stool, and table were placed before a fire burning in the hearth. An oil painting of a young girl leaning against a seated woman hung over the mantle. Harriet walked closer to study it while Mrs. Evans fetched the scarf.


  “That portrait was painted of Diane and me when she was eight years old,” Mrs. Evans said, joining Harriet beneath the picture.

  “I can see where Diane’s gets her beauty, Mrs. Evans. She looks just like you in that portrait.”

  “Thank you. My hair used to be that same shade of gold, but it has been grey for many years now.” The two women stood before the hearth, Harriet admiring the picture while Mrs. Evans studied her young friend. “Diane lives too far away to visit very frequently, so I’m glad of your company, Miss Walters. You’ve made a sizable difference in Edna’s life, too. She was isolated before you came, but now she takes an interest in the world again. Your coming has eased away all the little complaints that she used to have.”

  “Thank you, I’m glad to hear it. I’m also grateful for your company, Mrs. Evans, and for your friendship with my aunt. Without you, she would not have any real friends in town.”

  “Well, we’ve been friends for a long time. It’s ironic that we were girls together, and now we are together at the end.”

  “Don’t say that. You’re both in good health, and I’m sure that you have many years before you.”

  “One never knows, and that is why old women like your aunt and I want to see our children happily settled before we pass. That includes you, my dear. I may not be your mother or even your aunt, but it would please me to see you happily married with a home of your own before I go.” Harriet said nothing, so Mrs. Evans added, “I was surprised by your comment about Mr. Ash this afternoon. You two haven’t quarrelled, have you?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “I’m glad. You seemed to be getting along so well. I have hopes for the two of you.”

  “Perhaps you should not, Mrs. Evans. Perhaps any interest that Mr. Ash has in me is due to a false impression of my expectations.”

  Mrs. Evans’ eyebrows rose. “In what way is he mistaken?”

  “He may believe that I will inherit Aunt Edna’s estate after she passes. Of course, that is not true.”

  “Do you mean to tell me that you think Ash is a fortune hunter? I’ve never had that impression of him. Why would you think that? Has he said anything to make you believe so?”