Spinster's Gambit

by Gwendolynn Thomas

  “The case would damage him just as much there. The prosecution has no evidence of sodomy, Lord Chancellor. I suspect they desire only to pull as much humiliating gossip and slander in front of the court as possible, though they are doomed to lose the case,” Aspen insisted, leaning forward in his chair and speaking faster. “Lord Holcombe can sue for defamation after the fact, but that will not reverse the damage. The prosecution is using your court as a theater,” Aspen insisted. The Lord Chancellor blinked and paused from pulling himself from his chair. Aspen released a relieved breath and Lord Yearling’s eyes narrowed.

  “They have no evidence of penetration?” he asked and Aspen closed his eyes, fighting off an absurd blush at having such a discussion about his friend with an eighty-five year old peer of the realm.

  “None, Lord Chancellor,” he promised. The Lord Chancellor huffed out a breath and pointed a finger at him.

  “That had better be true. I would rather look omniscient than biased, of the two options,” he warned. Aspen nodded again and Lord Yearling resumed shifting himself to the front of his chair. Aspen did not dare offer to help him stand, but positioned himself in front of the man, ready to catch him should he fall. Lord Yearling straightened finally, on his feet again, and scowled at him.

  “And tell your mother that I’m only trusting you on this because of her holiday dinner’s treacle tart. Otherwise I’d have thrown you out,” he groused, starting out of the room.

  “Lord Yearling?” Aspen called. The man turned back slowly, placing his feet carefully away from the edge of the rug. “Who pushed for this indictment?” he asked. The Lord Chancellor grimaced and shook his head.

  “Lord Candrow. And don’t doubt he will be hearing from me, should your notion prove correct, though I must worry about any claim against a case’s prosecution when you don’t even know who’s behind it,” he said, his eyes narrowed. Aspen wanted to kick himself, and kept his eyes on the old man, praying the Lord Chancellor would not change his mind. “I’ll trust you anyway, Your Grace. May it not make me look like a raving old coot,” the man said finally, shaking his head as if at his own idiocy before carefully turning around again, apparently trusting Aspen to find his own way out.

  ~~//~~

  Mr. Charington acted as if the indictment were already withdrawn. He strode around the foyer, his hands clasped in a fist in front of his mouth, his eyes alight with good humor and relief. Daniel and Aspen and presumably every other peer of the realm were gathered in the House of Lords, their court closed to the public. Jac wandered toward the parlor, worry heavy in her stomach. By the time she got to the piano she didn’t know what to do with it. She sat down in an armchair and Mr. Charington slumped down in the seat across from her, apparently weak with premature relief.

  “He took me back,” he murmered and Jac wasn’t sure he’d meant to speak aloud. “Oh, thank the lord for daughters,” he exclaimed, running his hand through his thick hair and tugging it through its knots.

  I will speak with my father, Miss Charington had threatened, Jac remembered, smiling.

  “Does she know, then?” she asked curiously and Mr. Charington looked rather abashed.

  “There was rather no hiding it. Daniel helped raise her,” he replied. Jac felt her smile melt. How had Daniel kept her from this much of his life? She felt very alone, confronted with this man. “After my wife died-” Mr Charington started, the light from his eyes fading. “We were too alone,” he said, before shaking his head and smiling rather ruefully. “Love has a way of assuring you that you’ll never be that alone again.”

  Jac felt something leaden land in her stomach and did her best to smile happily for the man. From his concerned frown, she guessed she’d looked rather disturbed.

  “And he forgave me,” Mr. Charington breathed, leaning back in his chair. Jac ran her finger over the arm of her chair, wishing Mr. Charington would leave her alone. His relief was palpable and exhausting. “Come, enough of this useless waiting. If we are to wait, let us wait outside the House of Lords,” he said suddenly, pushing himself from his chair. Jac smiled and nodded. She needed to do something and she needed to stay out of the quiet house. Perhaps Mr. Charington knew it, for he called for a servant to ready his carriage.

  How many does he own? Jac wondered idly as the man left the room.

  ~~//~~

  Lord Candrow sat at the front of the room, his hands clasped together on the prosecution’s table in front of him. Aspen had not spoken to him in years, since he’d stopped going to the exhausting, miserable meetings of Parliament, and found his way in painting. This was too soon to see him again, Aspen thought, watching the man stare around the House of Lords, looking for allies. This was the man who’d courted Miss Holcombe? It was a disturbing thought.

  Lord Yearling worked his way across the room, his feet and cane shuffling along the hard stone floor. The tension in the room rose steadily, until Aspen thought that most of the peers of the realm were holding their breath, thinking of the damage the marble tiles would do, should the old man fall. Lord Yearling got to the Woolsack seat and sat down, facing the room, taking his position as the court’s Lord High Steward. Aspen sat, following the Lord Chancellor’s example with the rest of the crowd, and was finally able to see Daniel at the defendant’s table. Daniel sat staring at Lord Yearling, his hands clasped too tightly on the tabletop, his usually joyful expression still and solemn.

  “Lord Candrow, if you cannot present definitive evidence of sodomidical penetration, I hereby recommend an immediate acquittal for Lord Daniel Holcombe, Viscount Holcombe,” Lord Yearling stated clearly, staring at the prosecution table. Aspen exhaled heavily, relieved, and glanced about the room at the other lords’ faces. They did not all look surprised. Daniel looked perhaps the most shocked out of all of them. His mouth opened, fully agape, and he turned in his seat to glance about the room, as if one of the peers of the realm would stand from his bench and shout an explanation to him. Lord Candrow stared at the Lord Chancellor for a moment, apparently processing, and his expression soured.

  “Well, no, your honor, but circumstantially-” he started awkwardly. Lord Yearling held up a hand, his eyes clearing in what looked like relief.

  “Definitive proof, my lord, or I will move for an immediate acquittal,” he threatened again, before glancing at Lord Holcombe. Daniel stared at the elderly Lord Chancellor, looking utterly relieved. Lord Candrow flipped through the papers of what looked like genealogy charts on his small desk.

  “Viscount Holcombe clearly lied about the origins of the man who went under what I will prove to be the false identity of Mr. Jack -”

  Lord Yearling held up his hand again, looking frustrated.

  “Lord Daniel Holcombe is not accused of creating false identities or deceptions, Lord Candrow. He is accused of sodomy, against the Buggery Act of 1533. Do you have evidence for that?” he demanded.

  Lord Candrow stared at the man, looking flabbergasted and Aspen grinned.

  “No,” Lord Candrow admitted finally, his shoulders falling. “But Lord Holcombe has a home, in Kensington -” he started, shuffling through his papers again.

  Lord Yearling cleared his throat.

  “I move for an immediate acquittal,” the Lord Chancellor demanded.

  Aspen stood with the men around him to mark his vote in Daniel’s favor and glanced around the room at the men standing with him. There was clearly no need to count; they had the majority.

  We’ve gotten it thrown out of court, Aspen thought, relieved, watching Daniel’s hands finally relax. The man turned and found him in the crowd, his eyes alight with hope. Aspen did not know how to respond. By rights he should be furious with the man and his sister for humiliating him, but Daniel’s eyes sparkled with mischief again and Aspen believed the idiot had been well-minded. Aspen smiled back, realizing the hope in his friends eyes had started to dim, and Daniel straightened, restored.

  Aspen worked his way to the man through the crowd and fou
nd Daniel in a small pocket in the crowd, most of their peers keeping a careful distance despite the court case. The rumors had not been disproven, though Daniel met Aspen’s eyes and grinned at him, apparently unconcerned. Aspen shook his hand firmly and the surrounding crowd took note.

  “Thank you, for everyone you’ve spoken to,” Daniel said sincerely, shaking Aspen’s hand a last time and releasing him. Aspen was not sure what to say. His mother and Mr. Charington had won the man the majority. They made it to the outer doors with the man and pushed his way through, to see Mr. Charington, and his daughter, and Miss Holcombe waiting together in the cold, leaning on the tall stone wall there. Aspen hesitated, unsure what to do when faced with Miss Holcombe again, but the woman did not seem to notice him at all. She threw herself at her brother quite improperly, her arms flung around his neck. Daniel laughed whole-heartedly and spun her in a circle like a man with a young child.

  “How did it turn out?” she demanded and Daniel laughed harder, sounding almost hysterical now.

  “Acquitted, immediately. It’s over,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief before meeting Mr. Charington and Aspen’s eyes in turn. “Thank you,” he said, releasing Miss Holcombe. The tall woman stepped back, looking a bit embarrassed. Miss Charington had no such reservations. She ran toward Daniel and hugged him about his waist, hanging on like a limpet. Daniel ran a hand over her hair, not seeming to mind. He met Mr. Charington’s eyes and his gaze softened.

  “You realize this means I’ve been effectively declared immune from charges against the Buggery Act, without extraordinary, definitive proof,” Daniel said, matching Mr. Charington’s gaze over his daughter’s head. Mr. Charington’s eyes darkened, his smile growing, and Aspen had to look away from what seemed to be a private moment. He met Miss Holcombe’s gaze on accident. She looked away rapidly and Aspen kicked himself for intruding on the small family reunion.

  “Excuse me,” he interjected and walked away. He’d only gone six steps before he realized that he was going in the opposite direction of his carriage, but he couldn’t get himself to turn and look so foolish when Miss Holcombe was almost sure to notice. He turned the corner sharply, deciding to go around the block like a fool.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  He had to find another spinster, Aspen decided, stepping into yet another ballroom two weeks later. The 'spinster' idea, at least, had been promising. He'd thought the main obstacle in his marriage hunt would be avoiding Miss Holcombe and her brother but it seemed they were doing that part for him. They did not often accept the very few invitations they received. Aspen did not believe they'd stayed for the end of the season at all. Miss Holcombe had abandoned her search for a husband. Aspen grimaced at the thought, trying not to feel responsible. He had never formally courted her, had barely even started, and she had lied to him beyond all reason.

  Aspen sighed, glancing around the side of the ballroom to where the wallflowers and chaperones waited for the ball to end. Miss Holcombe had done him a great disservice. He found himself now to be quite a bit more picky than he remembered. He could not abide the women staring at his waistcoat and giggling like china dolls set to shatter if they made any real noise. Every woman he’d ever met embroidered and played an instrument and sang, but no one else did it brilliantly. At least with the spinsters he'd find women who were as miserable at a ball as he was and who were truly of an age. The appeal of Miss Holcombe, he'd decided, was that she was a woman, not a girl.

  And not a man, he added, snorting again to himself as he remembered Jack bounding about the fencing training room, dodging himself straight into a wall.

  Herself, he corrected, imagining Miss Holcombe in her skirts doing the same. He barked out a laugh at the memory, drawing the very concerned stares of a few gossiping matrons near enough to hear despite the din of music and chatter.

  He'd find a spinster, he confirmed to himself, scanning the women seated at the edges of the ball. A sane one.

  ~~//~~

  Jac didn’t think she’d let Daniel talk her into attending a ball ever again. She could not again wander around a ballroom for hours, trying to remain unseen and watch Aspen search for another spinster to ask to dance. He’d evidently decided that in that, at least, he’d done well with her.

  “Are not balls magical?” Miss Charington breathed, popping out of the crowd at Jac’s side. She smiled and took Jac’s arm in hers. Jac blinked rapidly, letting herself be led around the edges of the ballroom.

  “Not particularly,” she answered finally, glancing at Aspen leading Mrs. Clarence down the center of the dance. Jac wished she could warn him away from the gossiping woman, but turned her face away. Miss Charington was watching her carefully, apparently, for her eyes narrowed.

  “Would you like to join the Ladies' Philosophical Society of London?” she whispered, clutching Jac’s arm as if imparting a great secret. Jac blinked rapidly.

  “I -” she started before frowning. “Does that exist?” she asked. Surely she’d have known about it, bored as she’d been for so many years.

  “I’m starting it,” Miss Charington announced, holding her head up high as they turned to walk along the open balcony doors. “It’s for women scientists and scholars. I’m a scholar,” she announced, before flicking her head, throwing her bangs out of her eyes. “So?” she asked, peering at Jac.

  “I’d love to,” Jac said honestly and the girl smiled hugely, looking proud of herself.

  “There. Now we’re two people. A real club,” she said. Jac bit her lip to keep from laughing and nodded solemnly.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” she said. Miss Charington jumped in her skin as if she’d been prodded.

  “Oh! I’m to dance the next with Lord Hartwell!” she remembered, covering her mouth with her hands. “I forgot!” she giggled and dashed off toward the man to reach him before the next music started. Jac watched Aspen bow politely to Mrs. Clarence and start scanning the crowd for his next partner. Jac slipped quietly out of the room, disappearing from the crowd.

  ~~//~~

  Jac wandered about the upstairs hallway, not wanting to disturb her brother’s time with Mr. Charington and his daughter in the downstairs drawing room. From the sound of it, they were playing at cards and Jac did not much enjoy the pastime regardless. She settled finally in the top parlor window, facing the next street and its row of identical townhomes. She did not feel welcome to be still at home. Daniel would curse out her idiocy, she knew, but he was not the bachelor she’d thought he was. From the sound of it, he hadn’t been for years. He could have a life and a child in this home, if she were out of it, but instead, Mr. Charington and his daughter could only come to visit.

  Why couldn’t it have gone differently? She wondered, imagining Aspen’s laughing face, the crinkles around his eyes.

  “Miss Holcombe?”

  Jac turned, surprised, to see Mr. Charington hovering in the doorway, a wrapped bundle in his hands. He glanced around the room cautiously and smiled at her.

  “Oh! Come in,” Jac said, turning on the windowsill to face him fully. “I was only woolgathering.”

  Mr. Charington nodded and entered the room.

  “Miss Holcombe, it occurs to me that your brother and I are taking a rather large risk with your reputation,” he started. Jac held up a hand.

  “It is not a concern,” she promised him.

  I have no prospects regardless, she added to herself. Mr. Charington nodded.

  “Be that as it may, it is not equivocal. I propose that we make a pact, to be the least proper family in England,” he said. Jac smiled lightly, not sure of his meaning.

  “I did risk your reputation quite badly,” she replied, glad the air was cleared. Mr. Charington smiled easily and settled his package on the table beside her.

  “Open the package, my dear. It is yours, regardless, but do get back to me if you are amenable. Daniel would be quite relieved,” he said, and wandered out the way he’d come.

 
Jac frowned, listening to the strange man making his way down the stairs. She pulled the package onto her lap and untied its ribbons. She loosened the folded thin paper to find a beautifully embroidered, deep green cloth beneath. Jac blinked, seeing a small box tucked in the middle of the fabric. She opened it cautiously, unsure what a man like Mr. Charington would give her, to find a simple, pressed cravat pin.

  Eastern Textile Company, she read and felt her eyes widen as she glanced back at the green fabric. She pulled it out of the packaging and found herself holding a well-made embroidered waistcoat.

  “No,” she breathed, seeing the matching breeches beneath it.

  A pact, to be the least proper family in England, Jac thought, feeling her heart start to pound at the idea.

  ~~//~~

  Aspen left his coffeehouse and pushed into the cold night air, lifting a hand to call his carriage toward him. It’d been a pathetic evening. He’d not wanted to talk on any subject or to any man. He kept thinking of Jack – Miss Holcombe – leaning over the table, joking about Norway, arguing against Sweden’s territory rights.

  Does that mean you consider the Arctic Circle to be a better place? Aspen remembered, snorting out a laugh as he climbed into his carriage box.

  I brought her once, Aspen growled, slamming the carriage door closed for himself. There was no reason it should affect every other time he went to Smyrna. He’d frequented this coffeehouse for years. He’d met hundreds of men there.

  She was better company, he thought, tipping his head back in his coach seat.

  ~~//~~

  “You have nothing to lose,” Daniel reminded her yet again as he set out a small dish of cream for the cat at his study window. As always, the cat waited until he shut the window again before it leaped up onto the edge outside and started lapping at it.

  “You do realize that is hardly a hopeful, uplifting thing to say, yes?” Jac confirmed, watching the little animal. “That I have no prospects anyway?”