The Spinster and I (The Spinster Chronicles, Book 2)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Mother,” Prue said quickly, hoping to make the request before her mother was too lucid to plan, “might I call upon Charlotte Wright after we arrive home?”

  Her mother looked at her for a long moment, blinking as though she did not understand. Prue couldn’t blame her, she’d managed the entire question without stammering, which was a rarity with her mother, and if she had only just woken…

  “Charlotte Wright?” her mother repeated, her brow darkening. “She’s not much wealthier than you now, and thus is less of a valuable connection.”

  Oh, Charlotte would be delighted to hear that. Prue nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, Mother. But she does know how to m-manage Society so well, I thought it might be w-wise to confer with her on the topic.”

  Again, her mother blinked her large, owl-like eyes. “It’s an excellent idea, Prudence,” she finally said, a bit confused as she found herself saying anything praiseworthy about her daughter. “Yes, call upon her, by all means. I will not accompany you, I am far too fatigued. Take a servant.”

  A hot burst of elation hit Prue’s stomach, and she forced herself not to smile at all. “Yes, Mother.” She looked out of the window and bit the inside of her cheek again.

  It was Wednesday, which meant the Spinsters would be gathered to discuss the upcoming articles for the Chronicles. She could remind herself that she was not alone and friendless in this, nor was she unprotected. She could manage this new way of life with their aid.

  She could.

  They arrived at the house and entered to find flowers, cards, and a somewhat frazzled-looking pair of maids trying to decide what to do with more flowers that had just arrived.

  “Harper,” her mother chirruped, taking everything in with a calculating eye. “What is this?”

  The butler stepped forward, his slender figure seeming somehow frail now. “Cards and gifts for Miss Westfall, ma’am. They’ve all arrived in the last few days.”

  A slow, satisfied smirk filled her mother’s face, and she turned to Prue with the same look. “Go upstairs and change, Prudence. Call upon Miss Wright, and then return here straightaway. There is much to be done. And mind you don’t spend too long with that hussy. Eliza and your aunt and uncle are coming for dinner, and I must beg their advice on this matter.”

  Prue blanched and hurried up to her room, any hopes for a collected manner vanishing in the face of her new reality.

  Flowers, cards, gifts… And to be subjected to Eliza after what she’d just been through?

  She couldn’t breathe, and despite having just arrived, was wild to be gone again.

  Once changed and accompanied by a footman, Prue climbed back into her carriage and rolled on towards the Lambert residence, the unofficial meeting place of the Spinsters. She could feel tears welling behind her eyes, but she forced them to remain there. There was nothing the Spinsters could sniff out so well as distress, and obvious signs would make short work of all of this.

  Thankfully, it was a shorter trip to Izzy’s than Prue anticipated, and she disembarked from the carriage without any assistance, rushing into the house as though it were the only safety she would know in the world.

  Bonnet, gloves, and spencer were handed off to a maid, and she was taken to their usual parlor, holding her breath every step of the way.

  The others were already within, chatting with their usual eagerness, and she was pleased to see that Lady Edith Leveson was actively engaged in the conversation. She was a recent addition, and somewhat of a novelty, being a widow as opposed to a spinster, but Prue liked her immensely, finding her far more reserved than the others, but with none of the shyness that held Prue captive.

  Edith wasn’t shy. She was rather more like Charlotte than Prue if Charlotte would behave a little more like Prue.

  Though she had not even been gone a week, she felt as if a lifetime had passed since she had seen any of them. Somehow, it hurt to admit that.

  “Prue!” Izzy squealed when she caught sight of her. She jumped up and came over to hug her. “Oh, we missed you! And your last Quirks and Quotes was so popular, you should have heard how people have been going on about it!”

  Prue smiled and hugged her friend in return. Izzy was a veritable ray of sunshine no matter what was happening, never spoke ill of anyone, and was never anything less than perfect at any given time. Being around her made one comfortable, content, and warmed by her goodness.

  It was more soothing than ever now.

  The others rose and hugged Prue in turn, and she smiled as Georgie passed on Tony’s greeting as well.

  “He’d have been here, too,” Georgie assured her, rolling her eyes, “but Francis wanted him to go to the club, and since Hugh is being a right troll…”

  “Too right,” Elinor Asheley muttered darkly from the corner.

  She was far too young to be a spinster, with or without a capital S, but they let her participate with them anyway. She had strong opinions, a cynical nature, and purposefully held herself back from anything resembling a courtship.

  It was the oddest thing.

  Georgie looked at Elinor in exasperation. “Yes, thank you.” She looked at Prue, still smiling. “But he will be here later, and says he has a task for your next article.”

  Prue nodded and situated herself between Edith and Grace on the sofa while Izzy poured her a cup of tea.

  “Prudence Westfall,” Charlotte said slowly from the other side of the room, looking Prue over as though she had never quite seen her before. “What is this I hear about money and lots of it?”

  The room stilled as Prue looked at Charlotte, letting her warm, curious, dark eyes take in everything that Prue’s fair ones might show. Everything rose to the surface, the fear, apprehension, anxiety, and fatigue warring for primary position, and all jumbled together until Prue did the one thing she had sworn not to.

  She burst into tears.

  Chapter Nine

  The fashions this year are middling, and nobody seems to quite know what to do about the lace that appears so in style. This author has seen fichus of lace, skirts trimmed with lace, lace detailing on necklines… or the rather poor attempts at them… lace ribbons, lace overlays, lace gloves… Lace is everywhere, and it seems a girl could not possibly find a husband without lace. Heaven forbid.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 14 May 1818

  “I cannot believe that you failed to get a single gown with lace on it. Not a single one! You are hopeless, Prudence Westfall.”

  “It really is quite sad, Aunt. All that money and the lamb doesn’t know what to do with it.”

  “Quite so, Eliza.”

  “There is still time, Aunt. Do let me take my dear cousin to procure some proper lace items next week. You know I have quite the eye for these sorts of things.”

  Prue couldn’t do anything about the rampant flush from her shoulders up, but she made every conceivable effort to have no other reaction to the conversation happening around her, despite being the subject of it.

  It was the only way to survive.

  A night at the theater was usually something that Prue enjoyed immensely, but when a box was secured for her family, including her cousin, it was one of the worst things she could have endured.

  And if her mother agreed to Eliza’s offer…

  “That would be so good of you, Eliza,” her mother said with a simpering sigh of affection. “It would be just lovely to have you assist Prudence in such a kind way, wouldn’t it, Prudence?”

  “Yes, Prudence,” Eliza hissed, sitting just to Prue’s left. “Wouldn’t it?”

  Prue swallowed in response.

  “We’ll all go!” her aunt suggested brightly, her voice warbling as it always did. “A delightful outing of women!”

  That would be better, Prue was sure, but if she knew Eliza…

  “Oh, but Mama!” her cousin protested on cue. “I was so hoping to have some private time with Prudence! We weren’t expecting to be up here for the Season, and I want to hear about everyth
ing I’ve missed! You know that nobody has the sort of details a wallflower does, they see and notice everything!”

  “Very true, darling, very true.”

  Really, it was as if Aunt Howard had no idea of anything except what Eliza said. Prue had never given any of them the notion that she saw or heard or noticed anything of significance at any point in time. Of course, what Eliza had said in this case actually was true, but she had no reason to suspect that Prue would be such a source for her.

  And while she certainly played the wallflower on occasion, she hadn’t thought one could actually be a wallflower. If she were anything, surely she was more like wallpaper…

  Prue sighed a little, wishing that the performance would begin so that her cousin might be a little less invasive of Prue’s evening.

  “I saw that,” Eliza told her, keeping her voice low.

  Prue did not look at her.

  “You’re not going to have it so easy, lamb,” her cousin went on, her tone turning almost sinister. “You have a fortune now, and I am going to take full advantage of that. You will be my patron, like it or not.”

  There was no need to respond to that. No question meant no need to answer. Prue knew very well that the slightest stammer on her part would evoke a vindictive response from Eliza, and she was only barely holding it together at this moment.

  “Say something, lamb,” Eliza said as she leaned closer. “Say something.”

  Prue clenched her teeth hard, her cheeks somehow flaming more than before.

  “Glow, little lamb. Glow.”

  Her palms began to sweat and she her jaw began to ache with the pressure of her teeth.

  “Baa,” Eliza bleated with a laugh. “Let’s hear it. Baa.”

  Prue closed her eyes. She tried to swallow but couldn’t seem to manage it.

  Eliza chuckled and sat back against her chair. “Simple women never get anywhere, Prudence. Remember that.”

  Being back in London had not done anything for Prue’s comfort, and Eliza was more menacing in her efforts than she had been in years. Thanks to Prue’s fortune, now the family connections were even more worth preserving, not that there had ever been a question of it before. At least her uncle seemed to have some idea of the difficulty Prue was facing, as he appeared to be giving her more sympathetic looks than usual.

  It didn’t lead him to act in any sympathetic way towards her, but she hadn’t expected that.

  Dinners with the Howards. Outings with the Howards. Now, the theater with the Howards, and, if Eliza had her way, shopping with the Howards.

  It seemed that the suitors would not be Prue’s greatest problem in London, but rather her own family.

  That shouldn’t have surprised her.

  Changes were happening faster than Prue would have liked, and her mother was on a rampage to turn Prue into the proper heiress she imagined she should be. The new gowns had arrived, and only half of them were the ones Prue had liked. The rest had been additions from her mother.

  Every Wednesday was now for callers, and soon they would add Fridays, as well. Tuesdays and Thursdays were for making calls herself, and Mondays were for shopping. Saturday and Sunday, she had a reprieve from set tasks, aside from church services, and even those had been turned into an opportunity to look lovely while being pious.

  Given the fervency of Prue’s prayers of late, she rather expected she was more pious than any of the clergymen.

  A new maid had been hired specifically to be Prue’s lady’s maid, and while Prue had balked at the change at first, she found herself rather enjoying having Bessie around. She was not at all chatty and had a tasteful eye, which was the most comforting thing that she could have possessed. There would be no more catastrophes like the orange dress a few weeks ago, now that Bessie was entrusted with all things appearance for Prue.

  That had surprised her, as her mother tended to have a vested interest in such things, but no more. Bessie had once been lady’s maid to Mrs. Miranda Sterling, she’d been told, and that was quite good enough for Mrs. Westfall. Prue thought that seemed a bit farfetched.

  Having met Miranda herself, she could not imagine anyone being anything for her only once. She was the sort of woman who engendered lifelong devotion wherever she went.

  But she had yet to work up the courage to ask Bessie about that rumor, and she did not think she would any time soon.

  At least this evening she knew she looked well enough. Bessie had chosen to adorn her hair with the sort of simple elegance that Prue had always wished for but had never been able to manage herself or describe adequately enough. It flattered the shape of her face and the texture of her hair so well that she wondered at having ever worn it any other way. Soft ringlets danced near her ears and were matched by thicker, longer curls in the back, pinned amidst plaits and white ribbons to match the white details on her blue silk gown.

  Silk. Of all the silly things for a wallflower and spinster to wear, silk seemed chief among them. It hardly suited her, no matter how flattering the shade and cut. According to her mother, that was because there was no lace anywhere to be seen.

  The musicians near the stage started into their first piece, and Prue exhaled very slowly, taking great care not to do so audibly. She was now to be corrected on the tone and frequency of her sighs, as well. Because heiresses do not sigh.

  Apparently.

  She would have to tell Charlotte that one. How distraught she would be.

  The opera commenced, and while Prue couldn’t recall which opera they were seeing, she did not particularly care. Any of them would have been a welcome reprieve, and she was only grateful to have time to listen and reflect. The drama on the stage just might distract her from the drama in her own life, or else enhance it.

  They would commence to an evening of dancing and music at Lord and Lady Mortimer’s after the opera, which meant that Prue would be getting home rather late, which meant that she would have quite a headache tomorrow, which was unfortunate, as she would be forced into accepting callers shortly after breakfast.

  At least there was a limit to the number that came, or that her mother allowed, and Prue had never been so grateful for small public rooms in her life. It was saving her the trouble of more chaos than she already faced, and while it had not been much of an issue thus far, if things continued the way they were going, they would need the size restriction.

  The Spinsters had been stunned by Prue’s admission of her inheritance and fortune, and only Charlotte had scolded her for the secret, and then just for a few minutes. Prue’s tears to them the other day had startled them all, as she generally avoided crying before them at all costs, and their love and support had relieved much of her anxieties at the time. There had been no significant events as yet where Prue had been forced into her usual difficulties, but the smaller gatherings were proving just as challenging, though in different ways.

  Card parties were less about the cards and more about her. Taking tea had nothing to do with the beverage and everything to do with negotiating relationships and events. Rides in the park were anything but refreshing and turned into interrogations.

  No panicking, no need for saving, but she had certainly flushed and stammered, as she did, and that seemed quite enough. Some of her initial suitors had already cried off, and she wished them far, far away. Others were utterly devoted to the idea of making her like them, though nobody seemed to actually try to understand just what it would take for them to do that. With the ridiculous characters she had seen thus far, she began to wonder if any of their methods actually worked on the sentient females of Society.

  They must have done, or there would not have been half so many marriages as existed.

  Two weeks since Tinley House, and she was more at sea than ever.

  Smaller parties meant that not all her friends would be in attendance, and in some cases, none of them were. She had yet to attend an event where Izzy, Georgie, or Grace did as well and had not even seen Amelia Perry yet. She had seen Charlotte numerous t
imes, but given the congested nature of Charlotte’s circles, they did not do much by way of association. She knew very well that if she had trouble, Charlotte would have bowled the entire group over to get to her, but no occasion had driven them to that yet.

  Come to think of it, Prue wasn’t entirely sure that such extremes would have made her feel any better. It spoke to Charlotte’s loyalty, most assuredly, but the scene such antics would have created might have done more harm to Prue’s delicate frame of mind than anything else. Provided she noticed, at any rate.

  Low, rumbling sounds drew Prue’s gaze across the seats to her mother, aunt, and uncle, only to find two of the three dozing without shame. Her uncle stared straight ahead at the stage, though it was quite clear that he was neither seeing nor enjoying anything before him. It was entirely possible that he was, in fact, asleep with his eyes wide open.

  Such talents would have explained his lack of accomplishment in Parliament and his subsequent replacement, but that was neither here nor there.

  Prue smiled a little and looked back at the stage, biting back the need to sigh again, this time with resignation. The tenor currently performing with all of his might was only fair in his talents, and it was quite a shame, as the music was extraordinary. But without the vocal ability to match what the musicians provided, there was not much to see there, so Prue took the opportunity to glance about the theater.

  There were a great many people in attendance, and some of the patrons she could see were those who tended to plague her with questions about anything they thought might be of interest to her. If they had seen her enter tonight, as some certainly would have done, she would need to remember to have answers and opinions at hand.

  Not that anyone wanted to hear her opinions, given the difficulty she had with basic answers when provoked, but she would have to be prepared for every eventuality.

  A late arrival in an upper box across the theater caught her attention, and she watched as a dark-haired man in eveningwear situated himself in a chair, no companions near him.