Spinster's Gambit

by Gwendolynn Thomas

  “Alright, so I won't look at the pawn,” he stated, covering the piece with his hand. It was difficult to believe that the woman across from him had only been studying this game since she was one and twenty. Five years, then, if he had her age correct.

  Five years, Aspen repeated to himself, missing Miss Holcombe's reply entirely. Jack had been learning the game for five years, he'd said. Aspen stared at Miss Holcombe's face, so identical to Jack's. The same skills, the same look of concentration, the same intelligence, wry humor, interests. The same face. Only the clothes were different. It was mad, to think anything of it. But how could he not?

  Was he to believe that she’d dressed in a man’s clothing and met him at Daniel’s fencing hall? With Daniel’s assistance?

  The man would do it, Aspen thought, staring into Miss Holcombe’s bright green eyes. She matched his gaze and smiled and Aspen felt his jaw start to drop. Mr. Jack Holcombe. Not a man at all.

  Utter madness. And it would explain everything. Jack’s long pinned-back hair hidden beneath an old fashioned wig, his ill fitting garb, his awkward stride and feminine posture, his high pitched voice and soft hands, so much like a woman’s. Miss Holcombe’s motivation in sitting next to him three days before and prompting him for a chess game and knowing his skill level. For she’d played with him in the guise of Mr. Jack Holcombe. Aspen swallowed heavily. How had he not seen this before?

  He had to confirm it. Surely, this was madness only. Why would she have approached him three days before, if she’d had so much to lose?

  “So then, for example, in your last game of the tournament, when Philidor managed a rook mate after he captured your second pawn, he'd been using a similar technique?” Aspen asked, practically babbling. Miss Holcombe had been nowhere near there; it had been a gentleman's event – but her eyes lit up with recognition.

  “Yes, precisely. The mistake there was in losing control of the center in a fairly similar scenario. He forked my knight with my rook, and I managed to move my rook to a position that protected the knight, but I'd lost control of the central squares. This opening can lead to black doing the same thing, and it is possible to make it a strong opening for black, but it's difficult. Let’s imagine black takes the queen’s bishop’s pawn-”

  Aspen felt his jaw drop, unable to control his expression. He tried to imagine the woman in front of him putting on breeches, standing in the middle of his home surrounded by men, and wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh uproariously or back away. She had to be utterly, utterly mad.

  Aspen kept blinking, trying to remember all the times he'd seen ‘ Mr. Jack Holcombe’. He'd taught this woman billiards, he'd taken off his waistcoat in front of her.

  How much else about women's lives am I missing?, he wondered, imagining his mother sneaking off to fight the French on the border every season, only to return for the few weeks of her house party.

  What in the hell? This woman he'd been considering courting had met him as a man? That awkward, effeminate Jack Holcombe that'd become his friend, not a man at all. He felt a blush start to work its way up his face and he turned away. She was utterly insane, enough for an asylum. And he'd thought of courting her.

  Miss Holcombe stopped talking suddenly, cutting off halfway through a word, apparently noticing his silence. Her eyes jerked up from the board and her eyebrows furrowed, clearly trying to figure out when she'd lost him.

  Her eyes widened suddenly, her whole face whitening as if she were about to be ill, and Aspen knew that, at very least, he didn't have to say it aloud.

  “I-” she started, and stopped. Aspen felt his mind start to whirl, trying to figure out what on earth he ought to say.

  Nothing, he thought. He'd be grateful, were he so humiliated as to be caught wearing women's clothing, if no one said anything at all.

  How the hell had this happened? She had to be insane. And Daniel just as much so.

  “It was never meant to be more than the once,” she stated finally.

  And then what? You fancied the wig?

  “I will keep your privacy, ma'am,” he promised, standing up from the board as rapidly as he could. She stared up at him, her face white and pleading. Aspen bowed to her and turned around to make his exit, doing his best to maintain his dignity. The woman was leaving that morning. That at least was fortunate.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jac was glad Aspen – His Grace to her now, surely – had spoken with her in the green salon. It was private and had a locking door. She leaned her forehead against the door and stared down at her feet, trying to slow her racing heart.

  What would have happened, had I not exposed myself to him? He'd been so friendly, unlike how he usually was with women, like he was speaking with her as Jack again. She'd been able to smile and tease and curse and he had responded in kind. Where would that have gone?

  I would have been living a lie, she told herself, stepping away from the locked door, tears starting to build up behind her eyes. Her throat felt pinched. And Aspen was gone.

  He was never going to propose and if he had, I'd have lied to him even before our first day together. It's just as well. Don't think about it. She curled up in the large armchair at the back of the room, praying Daniel did not find her until she was done.

  By the time she ventured back into the hall their carriage was outside. Footmen were taking trips into the house, loading her trunks. Jac did her best to wander around the main floor of the house, for once glad Daniel was nowhere to be seen. She would tell him when they were gone. She couldn't let herself think until she was properly alone.

  ~~//~~

  Daniel saw Aspen burst into the breakfast room, fury clear on his face, and lowered his newspaper. Aspen’s face was white, his expression utterly baffled. The duke crossed the room in three strides and stood with the large breakfast table between them, his jaw clenched.

  This is about to be very awkward, Daniel thought, folding his newspaper and pushing it out of the way.The man had found out, Daniel was sure of it.

  “Mr. Jack Holcombe, your sister?” Aspen bit out, sounding disgusted. Daniel glanced about the empty room. This was not a discussion to be having publicly.

  “Please, Aspen, sit down,” Daniel suggested, doing his best to keep his voice calm. He had to find Jacoline.

  “No, thank you,” Aspen answered, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. His fingers on his right hand bit into the leather but his left had little purchase, its rippled skin held too tight. And Jacoline had come to love him so. Aspen was about to prove himself unworthy of her, Daniel guessed.

  “My sister will likely never marry, never run her own household and never have any friends within society with the possible exception of the eminent Lord Candrow, an elderly man ruled by his gluttony and his bigotry. Most sisters have much to lose with their reputation. Mine did not,” he explained.

  “And what could possibly be gained by dressing in such clothing and gallivanting about society waiting to be ostracized?” Aspen bit out. He was not listening now, Daniel thought, pausing. He hoped the duke would consider his words someday, though it likely would not help Jacoline at all. He did his utmost to keep his voice calm.

  “You listened to her, did you not, at that political luncheon? You spoke to her about slavery and politics - topics women rarely broach, if at all. She got to speak to you freely, though I admit some of the discussions at hand may have been outside of what I wanted for her.”

  Aspen gaped at him.

  “She was wasting away, Aspen,” Daniel insisted.

  “You made her into a farce and exposed her to ridicule,” Aspen answered, his gaze accusing. Daniel quietly put down his fork, suspecting he was watching a friendship end.

  “That is only if you ridicule her,” he answered seriously.

  “You should treat your sister better,” Aspen growled and strode from the room. Daniel got up to follow him; he had to go find Jac.

  ~~//~~

  Jac was qu
iet as Sarah directed the footmen to haul her trunks to the waiting carriage. For once, Sarah did not ask what the trouble was and Jac gratefully did not answer. She’d been hoping for a duke. She was utterly, utterly mad.

  But he'd spoken to her like Aspen again, interest shining in his eyes and Jac desperately wanted to know if that had only been directed at the conversation or if, perhaps, that interest might have extended to her. She’d certainly seen suspicion grow in Aspen’s eyes, as her lies piled up. Had there been interest? A hope of romance?

  He does not make friends easily, Daniel had said. Jac felt guilt well up in her stomach and sat down on her bed. How was it that her foray into spontaneity and adventure had had adverse effects for everyone but herself? Daniel seemed to be living in a curio cabinet with all the world looking on and wondering how he’d come about.

  It was with great relief that she climbed into the carriage into the seat across from Daniel, finally finished with their very awkward formal goodbyes. Aspen had been nowhere to be seen, along with the majority of the guests. Jac settled in facing forward and the footman closed the carriage door with a heavy thump. Jac slumped on her bench and let her head fall back on the headrest behind her.

  “You fell for him,” Daniel stated. Jac rubbed a hand down her face and nodded, feeling hopelessly foolish. “Well, that's an interesting quandary. Do I gain a brother or kill a best friend?” Daniel asked lightly, staring up at the top of the carriage as if looking for inspiration there. He shrugged easily. “Well, his call,” he answered himself, rubbing his hands together, as if with great anticipation.

  “You're not going to kill him,” Jac replied. Daniel tilted his head to look at the ceiling, squinting slightly as if considering it again.

  “No, no, I might,” he said finally. Jac chuckled grimly.

  “You're not going to kill him,” she ordered. Daniel smiled softly at her and Jac wanted to hug him like they did as children. What would she ever have done without him? Daniel sobered finally and leaned his head back on the seat, obviously planning on falling asleep. “It’s all over, regardless. I shall not see him again,” she explained and Daniel looked up. He opened his mouth as if to protest and closed it again, apparently only just remembering their recent, rather spectacular fall from grace.

  “I'm sorry, Jac,” he muttered. Jac pulled her embroidery out of the basket set at her side.

  “As am I,” she answered and his mouth twisted with what looked very much like regret. He stared out the window and they bumped steadily along, finally heading home to the country where they belonged.

  “Should we not have done it?” he asked finally, turning back to face her. “Should we have followed society’s rules, regardless of our preferences?”

  Jac frowned and tucked her thin needle into the embroidery to keep her place.

  “My situation is not highly altered. I was overlooked before. Now it is simply an intentional slight,” she replied and smiled, thinking over her time advancing and retreating, a meter long blade in her hand. That had been worth it. Her smile faded as she thought of Daniel’s consequences. “but I would not have risked your reputation. I simply did not think of it,” she stated honestly.

  Daniel laughed lightly, but it sounded angry.

  “That’s hardly righteous, is it? For me to be willing to risk your reputation but not mine. Perhaps this is justice kicking us in the teeth,” he said and Jac shook her head.

  “You had quite a bit more to lose,” she said. He’d had the good fortune of a great many admirers, female and male alike. Daniel sobered, the smile melting off his face as if it had never existed and Jac regretted her words. He nodded slowly and returned to staring out the window.

  “Yes, I did,” he agreed.

  ~~//~~

  Daniel groaned and collapsed into the chair behind his desk, his head falling back to smack against the headrest. Jac settled into the chair in front of him, glad to be out of the carriage. She didn’t think she could stand to take another trip for a long time. Her whole body ached. Letters were piled on the side of Daniel’s desk, waiting for his attention.

  “Lord Candrow sends his regrets,” Daniel noted, flicking a letter in her direction. Jac leaned forward to take it, unsure why her fingers shook.

  She pulled it into her lap and took a deep breath, flipping it between her fingers and wondering what she wanted from her life. She was twenty-six years old. She was no longer hoping for a fairy tale or an adventure. She likely had sixty years left to her to dispense with. Jac sighed, running her hand over the stiff paper.

  There are women scholars, she knew. Jac felt tears building up in her eyes and blinked at them angrily. She broke the seal on the baron’s papers. If nothing else, she’d live her life with all of the facts laid before her.

  Dear Miss Holcombe,

  I wanted to write you to give you my condolences on the recent very public revelation of your brother’s proclivities. It is a subject about which one can hardly speak, let alone write, and so I shall save it for future conversations.

  However, let me assure you that your own reputation remains very much so as it has ever been, even if not in the public eye, for I am certain you are responding with the proper disdain proportionate to the despicable nature of your connections. When it comes to your brother’s immorality, a word used in a certain sense which I need not define, we have but too much reason to fear that there are numbers of such indiscretions yet undiscovered and that this abominable practice gains ground every day. In the light of such an unfortunate truth, I must endeavor to show the same restraint and make no secret of my condemnation.

  Sincerely Yours,

  Charles Candrow.

  His given name is Charles, Jac noted, running her hand over the letter. She folded the letter quietly, struggling not to feel anything at all. She slid the letter back onto the desk, knowing Daniel would not pry, and she’d end up telling him regardless.

  That answers that, then, she thought, settling back into her chair. She had no prospects. Daniel had straightened and was watching her avidly now. Jac tried to smile at him.

  “And it's over,” she breathed out, rubbing a hand across her forehead. Daniel’s gaze grew sympathetic.

  “You would not have married him,” he said. Jac nodded quietly, agreeing, though she could not shake the feeling that she’d just lost something valuable.

  I will never have children. The thought cut into her. But she’d been coming to accept that truth for many years.

  “And the lies are over,” Jac said, breathing out a heavy breath. That, at least, was a great relief. Daniel glanced up at her, his gaze heavy. “No more lies,” Jac repeated, but he had turned to look out of the window behind him.

  “No more lies,” he repeated quietly, pausing as if rolling the words around on his tongue. “No more lies.”

  Jac nodded and leaned back in her chair, relaxing as she would not do but in his presence. She doubted they’d entertain any company beside each other’s for years, until Daniel courted a wife and the rumor finally died.

  “Jac, I -,” Daniel started, turning back in his chair and drawing her attention. “This had unforeseen consequences,” he said finally, running his palms over the fabric of his pants and avoiding her gaze. Jac frowned.

  “I’m hardly unaware,” she protested and he smiled grimly, a quiet strain of fear in his eyes. Jac felt her heartbeat pick up at the sight. “What is wrong?”

  “Jac -” Daniel started and cut off, running a hand over his nose and mouth. “I’d had a lover.”

  Jac stared at him, trying to understand what he’d said. He’d pronounced it like a death sentence. Jac wasn’t sure she’d heard the right words at all, muffled as they’d been. There was no reason for Daniel to be telling her about such a thing.

  “There was evidence to find, if someone got too curious,” he continued. Jac shook her head, confused.

  “A mistress will hardly matter in this. Why are you telling me?” Jac as
ked, shaking her head to clear the images his words brought. Knowing about her brother’s love life was inappropriate in the extreme. Daniel closed his eyes and swallowed heavily, only looking more uncomfortable. “And they cannot find Mr. Jack Holcombe, clearly. You should not be concerned,” she added.

  “No more lies,” he muttered under his breath, like a mantra, before meeting her gaze again. “There was another man. Not a mistress, a man,” he stated, staring at her and Jac felt her jaw go slack.

  “You cannot mean -” she started but Daniel’s expression did not change.

  “Who -” she tried again before faltering, deciding that it would be improper to ask. Daniel’s gaze lightened however, apparently pleased by the question.

  “Mr. Henry Charington,” he replied. Jac sat back in her chair, trying to process the words and how she was supposed to respond. Mr. Henry Charington. When Daniel had gone to steal his breeches he’d - Jac flushed, realizing what information she’d just been given.

  “That explains a lot,” she stammered, thinking about the clothes. Daniel chuckled dryly.

  “How did you think? That I was sneaking into a man’s bedchamber halfway through a political discussion and stealing his breeches without notice?” he asked her and Jac felt her eyes widen.

  “I do not know the ways of men,” she replied and Daniel laughed.

  I cannot be having this conversation, she thought, but Daniel’s laugh voice light and easy as it had not been in too long.

  Jac watched him, trying to order her thoughts. He’d always seemed so open with her, after he’d finally returned from his travels so guilty and repentant.

  “Why did you never tell me?” she asked quietly and Daniel raised his eyebrows at her, looking disbelieving. Jac glared back, unyielding. She’d dressed in breeches before him. Daniel blew out a heavy breath.

  "It was not only my secret to share," he answered quietly.

  “Miss Charington,” Jac breathed, thinking aloud. “You called her Laura.” Daniel’s happy expression melted.