Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Newsletter Information
Other Books by Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
About the Author
The Spinster’s Secret
Jennifer Monroe
Copyright © 2018 Jennifer Monroe
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
If you would like to receive my newsletter with information on upcoming books, you may sign up at the link below.
Jennifer Monroe Newsletter
http://eepurl.com/dxJPnb
Other Books by Jennifer Monroe
The Duke’s Wager: Defiant Brides Book 1
Chapter One
Miss Alice Huntington sat at the writing desk as she tapped the end of the pen on her lip in an attempt to keep her mind focused on the letter before her. She and Miss Lily Stripleton had attended finishing school together and they shared in the occasional letter from time to time. However, the last letter Alice had received explained that Lily was to be married and that left Alice with no more unmarried friends. Thus, she was the last, the spinster of the group, and she vowed to remain as such. Although she was happy for her friend, she herself had no interest in marriage whatsoever.
She sighed and continued with her letter, wishing Lily much luck and love in her marriage. Although she had been invited to the wedding, Alice explained that she would be unable to attend, as it was much too distant for her to travel unaccompanied, and she had no companion with whom she could travel. She could have easily hired a woman, or perhaps asked her mother if Esther could be in attendance; however, the truth was, she simply did not have the desire to attend such a function.
When she completed the correspondence, she blew on the ink and set it aside to allow it to dry and then stood and stretched, pleased with the morning’s accomplishments. She had taken a stroll through the garden, stopping to cut several of the most beautiful flowers, which she arranged for the large table in the entryway. Her mother, of course, had been thoroughly pleased with them, for which Alice was quite happy. Her father, on the other hand, had not given the arrangement a second glance, but he was a man, after all. If it had been an arrangement of property deeds or business agreements, however, he would have been delighted beyond belief.
She walked over to the window and looked out across the garden. The stables stood on the other side, and Alice felt a twinge of pain as she thought of Thomas. Perhaps she could write him a letter as well. She returned to her writing desk, dipped her quill in the ink and simply stared at the page. What could she tell him?
Once she began, however, the words came easily, and the ink flowed from the pen, her script perfect, as it always was. As she went to sign her name, however, a knock came to the door and she quickly folded the letter and hid it in one of the drawers of her desk.
Drat! Now the ink will be smeared.
“Yes? Come in,” Alice called out.
Alice’s mother entered, her purple gown flowing around her slippers reminding Alice of the lilac blossoms she had included in her flower arrangement. Her mother was still a beautiful woman for one her age, and though Alice did not share her mother’s doll-like facial features, she did inherit the woman’s red hair and green eyes.
“Good morning, Alice,” Mrs. Huntington said as she closed the door behind her. “Have you asked Esther to see to your gown for this evening’s party?”
Alice stifled a sigh. Her sister, Emily, had finally reached the age of eight and ten, and her parents had spent an abundant amount of time and money preparing for a party as a way to celebrate. Alice knew exactly why they insisted on such extravagance, for they had done the same for her birthday six years earlier—they hoped she would catch the eye of an eligible man, something they had been unable to do with their elder daughter. They had voiced their frustrations for the fact that Alice was now a spinster, but now with their younger daughter coming of age, their eye could now be cast on her rather than wasted on Alice.
“Yes, Mother. Esther has already seen to it and it is hanging in my wardrobe ready to be donned this evening.”
Mrs. Huntington nodded. “Very well.” She gave Alice a critical look. “I do wish you would not wear those eyeglasses,” she said with a grimace. “They are not very becoming. It is no wonder you have never had a beau.”
Alice pushed the frames up on her nose. In all honestly, she did not need the eyeglasses. She had procured the frames from an old pair left by one of the servants and had the lenses replaced by clear glass. The optician she had visited when she was off in Kent to see her aunt and uncle had given her the strangest look when she made the request, but being that Alice produced more than enough money to cover the cost, he had readily agreed. Being that she was far away from home when she received the spectacles, her parents never learned of her deception, and with a small amount of playacting at struggling to see without them, the idea became an acceptance within no time.
“If you wish me to walk into walls and trip over chairs, I would be happy to go without them,” Alice replied sheepishly.
“No, no, there will be no need for that,” her mother said with a wave of her hand. “I would simply like everything to be perfect this evening. And I wish you to look as fetching as your sister tonight.”
Alice found her mother’s words a little disconcerting, but she pushed the feeling aside and took her mother’s hand in hers. “It will be a perfect evening,” she assured her. “You have spent too many hours for it not to be.”
Her mother smiled. “Yes, I am quite prepared. Well, do not dawdle, my dear, we have much to do before we dress for this evening.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Mrs. Huntington left the room and Alice sighed. She truly was happy for her sister. They had always been close, even with the large difference in age, and Alice hoped the girl would find a nice man to marry. Just because Alice chose not to marry did not mean she could not wish it for her sister.
She glanced at the drawer that held the letter she had been writing when her mother knocked on the door. Rather than rewriting it, however, she returned the stopper to the ink bottle and gathered the letter she had written to Lily. She could write to Thomas another time.
***
The grand party was the last place Alice wanted to be. The men moved at such speed in their desire for conquest, the odor of their arrogance seemed to soak the very fabric of the gown she wore. The air around her was filled with titters of laughter, the younger women gushing at every word the men spoke to them and the combination of it all made her ill. The outdoors had so much more to offer, so much to explore,
and that was where she belonged, not cooped up in the overly hot and stuffy ballroom. No, Alice Huntington belonged somewhere else…anywhere else, but certainly not here. That was one of the many things she knew as fact.
A man moved past her in a rush, his eyes wide as he approached her father, Mr. Dudley Huntington. Her father had amassed an ever-growing expanse of wealth and was always eager to show everyone his many treasures, including the massive ballroom. Alice had to admit that the ballroom was tastefully decorated with its large mirrors framed in dark oak to reflect the light coming from the heavy chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The mirrors alternated with artwork and large tapestries depicting medieval battles. Alice would have preferred those to be replaced by subject matter that was lighter in nature—perhaps a field of flowers or representations of lovely picnics under bright green trees. However, her father was obsessed with medieval times, and his house, as well as his attitude, reflected that obsession. Plus, she had no say as to what went into the décor of Glassberry Estate anyway.
Her father clapped the man who had approached him on the back, grabbed a drink from a passing footman, and handed the glass to him. They both raised their glasses, her father’s cheeks and nose already a rosy color.
“Emily,” her father called out to Alice’s younger sister, who stood beside Alice with wide eyes that constantly moved over the crowd. “Come here, please.” Emily looked beautiful in her white dress with tiny yellow daisies and yellow ribbons that adorned the puffed sleeves. The neckline was the lowest Emily had ever worn before, but she carried herself straight and confident, as if she had worn such clothing for years. Alice was proud of her sister for showing such bravery, for earlier Emily had rushed into Alice’s room on the verge of tears.
“Oh, Alice!” she had cried. “How am I to wear something so revealing? I will be a laughingstock. People will believe I have loose morals!”
Alice laughed. “They will believe no such thing. Your dress is of the latest fashion, and trust me, you look beautiful. Just last week I attended a party at Chuntingham House and Miss Bandrum attended in a dress much like this one. No one treated her any differently.” She paused and then giggled. “Well, that is not necessarily the whole truth. The men seemed much more interested in her, but they did not treat her with less respect than they did any of the other women in attendance. In all actuality, they showed her even more.” That was indeed the truth, at least from an observer’s standpoint. The men had looked at the girl as lions at a lone gazelle, but Emily needed reassurance, so it only made sense to leave out that bit of information.
This seemed to calm Emily. “Thank you, Alice. I am not sure what I would do without you.” She gave Alice a tight hug.
Alice had to keep back the tears that threatened to fall. Since she was so much older than her sister, six years to be exact, Alice had always felt the need to take care of her. It saddened almost as much as it gladdened her that Emily would soon find a husband.
Their father’s voice brought her back to the present. “Emily, I would like you to meet Lord Gregory Ashbury,” he was saying as he presented the man next to him.
Alice suppressed a laugh as the man’s face lit up and he took her sister’s hand and planted a kiss on the knuckles. He was not a superiorly handsome man, but he was also not homely. He was a bit stocky but not overly so, and besides the large nose, the man’s face did not cause her discomfort when she looked at him.
“Miss Emily, a most wonderful pleasure to meet such a treasure such as yourself,” Lord Ashbury said. “I see your father hides his greatest jewels in his wonderful home.”
Alice considered whether she should laugh or sick up at the man’s words. Here she thought she had heard every compliment a man could give a woman, but this man produced the worst drivel of them all.
Emily, however, seemed taken with the man, and she beamed at his words. “You are too kind, My Lord,” she said as her cheeks reddened.
“Perhaps later your father would allow me the privilege of conversing with you?” Lord Ashbury said.
“Father?” Emily asked, her eyes pleading.
“I believe that can be arranged,” Mr. Huntington said. “So, Ashbury, have you…” The men continued their conversation, and Alice sighed with relief that the nauseating introductions were finished.
Music played in the far corner and several couples lined up for a swift country dance, hands clapping and smiles wide. However, rather than watch the turns, Alice studied the lovely variety of hats worn by the women. She could not remember a time in her life that hats had not intrigued her. A woman of fair skin as she was, wearing hats had been a necessity, lest her skin freckle from a single ray of sun. Her mother had insisted from a young age that she never leave the house, even for a second, without some sort of hat or bonnet, and because of that, Alice had become quite fond of the variety of styles. One woman, for example, wore a wonderful dark blue bergere, its ruffles matching the ribbon around her waist, while another wore a bonnet with a massive yellow feather that caused people around her to duck and draw back so as not to be struck by it.
“Miss Huntington,” a croaky voice said from behind her.
Alice turned and smiled politely at a short elderly woman in a purple gown with lace all the way up her neck. The woman’s hat almost hid her face, and the smell of the grapes and strawberries was almost overwhelming. “Lady Sherwood, how are you this evening? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes, quite,” Lady Sherwood replied. Alice found it difficult to not bend over so as to hear what the woman said, her voice was so quiet, especially in the midst of all the people who crowded into the ballroom. The manner in which the woman stood hunched over did not help matters, either. “It is a bit stuffy in here, but one must agonize through it, do they not?”
Alice nodded. At least the woman was not sharing one of her stories of the many parties she attended in her youth…
“I remember when I was but eight and ten and my parents…”
Alice listened politely, hoping she had not invoked the stories by simply thinking about them. It was not that she did not enjoy a good tale, but when one was trying to mingle with the guests as daughter of the hostess, it was difficult to focus on the lengthy and well-detailed stories the woman told. In no time, Alice found her mind wandering, and she looked longingly at the door that led out to the veranda.
She pulled out her fan and began to vigorously move it in front of her face. It was as if the room was somehow closing in on her, and she made to glance once again at the veranda. Just as she turned, a footman carrying a silver tray filled with lovely fluted glasses of some sort of beverage walked past and Alice’s elbow struck it, and it crashed to the floor, the sound of breaking glass and ear-piercing silver clanging on the floor, causing the entire party to stop and stare at her.
“What on Earth are you doing?” Mrs. Huntington hissed.
“I’m sorry, Mother, I did not see him.”
Mrs. Huntington sighed heavily. “Everything is fine,” she called out to her guests. We have just had a simple mishap, but it will be cleaned up in no time.” Then she lowered her voice and said to Alice, “You are much too old to be this clumsy! Please be more careful.” Her smile never wavered, but if anyone studied the woman’s face closely enough, they would have noticed how tightly clenched her jaw was.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Mrs. Sherwood asked with a sympathetic smile.
“Yes, she is just fine,” Mrs. Huntington replied for Alice. How Alice hated when her mother spoke for her; she was quite capable of speaking for herself. Her mother gave her another annoyed glare and then walked off to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Johanson who had just arrived only moments before.
Much to Alice’s dismay, as the footman cleaned up the mess, Lady Sherwood continued with the story she had been telling, or perhaps it was a different story. Alice was unsure, but she nodded absently nonetheless. Her eyes wandered around the room once again. Over a hundred people had come to wish Emily well, or at
least put up the pretense of doing so, and Alice found it more and more difficult to remain where she was.
“…do you not think, Alice?” Emily asked. Then she gasped. “Oh, I do apologize, Lady Sherwood. I did not see you there.”
Alice was utterly confused. She had stopped listening to the conversation between her father, Lord Ashbury, and Emily, as well as the story Lady Sherwood had been telling. “I am sorry. What were you saying?” she asked the older woman.
Lady Sherwood chuckled. “No, no, that is quite all right,” she said with a pat to both girls’ arms. “You young ladies do not need to be entertaining an old woman such as myself, nor do you need me to entertain you.”
“Oh, no! I beg your pardon!” Emily said, the anxiety clear in her tone.
“Not at all, my dear. You have your duties, and they are very important. Plus, I see the Lady Dowager Hollyoak across the way, and I have not spoken with her in weeks.” Without another word, the woman hobbled over to a far table where another older woman sat, her wide-brimmed hat laced with black and a dark purple that matched her gown, and the two were soon deep in conversation.
Emily leaned in. “I believe Lord Ashbury may have taken a liking to me,” she whispered.
Alice gave her a smile, noticed her sister’s flushed face, and decided it would be a wonderful excuse to leave the confines of the house. “Would you like to go outside for some air?” she asked.
Emily glanced around. The men were deep in conversation and clearly not paying any attention to them, but the girl seemed reluctant to go. “I am sure we should not leave. Father will not be happy…” she replied anxiously.
“If you will please excuse us,” Alice told the men, although she doubted very highly they would have noticed for some time if the women had left without announcement.
“Ah, yes, Ashbury,” Mr. Huntington said as if he had just remembered something of importance, “may I introduce my elder daughter, Miss Alice Huntington.”
The Spinsters Secret Page 1