The Spinster & The Coquette

by Caylen McQueen

  Alexander sat beside Frank on the sofa, across from the sisters. “I am quite alright. I came to see you, Miss Waverly, and that was my only reason for coming. Tea is not necessary.”

  Hester sighed. Just once, she would have liked to be the Miss Waverly who attracted the attention of the handsome young gentleman. As Cordelia and Mr. Snowley conversed, Hester’s gaze met Frank’s. He must have understood her feelings, at least to some degree, because he frowned.

  “If you painted a portrait of me as I am right now, it could be summed up in three words,” Cordelia mused. “Freckles, frocks and flowers.” She held the bouquet beneath her nose and inhaled deeply. “So fragrant!”

  “Fine, fair, and fetching,” Mr. Snowley was grinning as he described her. “As for your freckles, they are adorable.”

  “My sister would say I am flippant, frivolous and fractious.” Cordelia waited for her sister to disagree, but an objection never came. “And I will have to disagree with you, Mr. Snowley, as my freckles are anything but fetching. They ruin a perfectly good complexion.”

  “And I will have to disagree with you, Miss Waverly,” Alexander echoed her sentiment. “Your freckles are irresistible!”

  “You spoil me with compliments.”

  “Every woman should be spoiled with compliments, provided they are worthy of them,” Mr. Snowley said. “And you are most certainly worthy.”

  Hester was rescued from her growing feelings of envy by the arrival of a second guest. He did not come with flowers, but Cecil Hargrave looked every bit as handsome as the gentleman who came before him—in Hester’s eyes, anyway. A very tall man, Mr. Hargrave had to stoop to enter the room. His once-unkempt hair had been brought to order, and his wide shoulders displayed his tan greatcoat to perfection.

  After seeing both gentlemen, Frank groaned into the palm of his hand. He assumed Mr. Hargrave was a second suitor of Cordelia, and was a bit surprised when he addressed the older Miss Waverly.

  “Good day, Miss Waverly,” the older gentleman said. “I hope I find you in good health?”

  “Quite good. I am pleasantly surprised to see you again so soon,” Hester said. Nearby, her sister and Mr. Snowley were engaged in their own conversation.

  “Is it too soon?”

  “Not at all. You are always welcome.”

  Frank, who had been excluded from both conversations, was now clenching both of his fists until he was white-knuckled and shaking. Frank eyed his walking sticks and considered making an angry exit, but he knew his flight from the room would only attract attention, pity and sympathy. He closed his eyes and listened to parts of both conversations.

  “Your hair looks beautiful in the light,” Mr. Snowley said to Cordelia, “it is as if there is fire in it!”

  “I have been thinking of you since the moment we parted ways,” Mr. Hargrave confessed to Hester. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say that?”

  Now that they were getting attention from other men, Frank knew he would be shunned. The arrival of the sisters secretly made him so elated. Their presence gave him purpose. Was he foolish to think they would actually care to spend time with him? The arrival of the other gentlemen made Frank realize what a fool he had been. Hester and Cordelia had better ways to spend their time, and more worthy men to see. They would forget all about him.

  When Mr. Hargrave suggested a turn around the garden, Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted them—all of them—out of his sight.

  “Frank,” it was Cordelia who addressed him, “Hester and I are to go for a walk in the garden with these gentlemen. Would you care to join us?”

  Frank shook his head and stayed silent, praying that no one would mention his affliction. Being unable to walk without assistance was not something that filled him with pride.

  “Very well. I shall find you later and think of some way to improve your mood. You have been sulking all day,” Cordelia accused him. Then she took Mr. Snowley by the arm and headed out to the garden, followed by Hester and her beau. As they stepped outside, Cordelia said, “My aunt’s garden is small, but rather pleasant. The hydrangeas are particularly lovely.”

  “I confess I have no idea what a hydrangea looks like,” Mr. Hargrave whispered to Hester. “I suspect Mr. Snowley is thinking the same thing, but he is not brave enough to say it.”

  “Mr. Snowley brought her a gift of flowers,” Hester quietly replied, “He cannot confess an ignorance of them now, or his gift would seem disingenuous.”

  “Every man is at least somewhat ignorant of flowers,” Mr. Hargrave claimed. “Beyond a rose, I could not tell you what any of them are called.”

  Hester smirked at him. “Surely you could identify a bluebell?”

  “Is it blue and shaped like a bell?”

  “Indeed. And suddenly, you are not as ignorant as you claim!”

  Hester and Mr. Hargrave’s whispering ceased. Hester wanted to enjoy the calm serenity of the garden, but her sister insisted on talking nonsense to her suitor.

  “Hester and I are both deathly afraid of insects,” Cordelia admitted. “Deathly, deathly afraid!”

  “Which ones?”

  “All of them!” She saw a large bee flitting between the flowers in front of them, so she halted in her path and waited for it to pass.

  “It sounds like it would be very easy to torture you, Miss Waverly,” Alexander teased her.

  “True. If my torturer resorted to bugs, I would relinquish any and all information immediately. Any insect would work on me. Except, perhaps, butterflies.” Cordelia tapped on her chin as she considered the thought. “Actually, butterflies would probably work as well. They are deceptively pretty.”

  “I quite like butterflies,” her suitor said. “I like it when they land on me. Dragonflies too. It feels as if good luck will come my way.”

  “Dragonflies? Landing on you? Oh, that would be horrid!” Cordelia squealed. “Once, I found a centipede in my bonnet. Can you imagine my reaction? It was easily one of the most terrifying moments of my life! I shall never know how long the vile creature was weaving through my hair, in and out, in and out!”

  Cordelia tightened her grip on Mr. Snowley’s arm. At the same time, Hester saw movement from the direction of the cottage. A curtain was peeled back, and Frank was peering at them from behind the gauzy veil, where he likely thought no one would see him. Though Hester pitied him, she did not want to draw attention to him. If they caught him staring, he would likely become the subject of ridicule, and she did not want to see him exposed to that sort of cruelty.

  “I once knew a man…” loquacious Cordelia continued, “who looked strangely similar to a bird. His eyes were round, and his nose was large and misshapen… like a beak.”

  “And I knew a young lady who resembled a horse,” Alexander said, “though I feel like a cad for admitting it.”

  As the younger couple engaged in useless repartee, Mr. Hargrave whispered to Hester, “I prefer my conversation to be a bit less… inane.”

  “It is my sister’s fault. She is a sweet, lovely girl, but she has always been a bit silly.”

  “You and your sister have very little in common. I know I am practically a stranger, but that is how it appears.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Hester agreed, “nevertheless, she is a very dear friend. Shared interests are not always a requirement in a companion.” Hester watched a bee hover behind her sister’s head and held her breath. If her sister heard the buzzing, Cordelia would likely throw a fit that would not impress Mr. Snowley.

  “I’ve often wished I had a brother,” Mr. Hargrave admitted, “Of all the people I know, the ones with siblings seem the happiest.”

  “Silly as she is, Cordelia’s companionship is invaluable. I am sure I shall never have another friend I care about as deeply as my sister.”

  “I used to feel that way about my wife. I never thought anyone else would compare to her. As of late, I am more optimistic.”

  “Your… wife?” Hester swore she felt a claw arou
nd her stomach, gripping her with irrational dread. “Are you married, Mr. Hargrave?”

  “I am a widower,” he explained. “I lost my wife and daughter nearly a decade ago.”

  “Oh no… I am so very, very sorry to hear that! How terrible!”

  “It was very sudden… a carriage accident. I lost my entire world in that day, and nothing could have prepared me for it.” He briefly closed his eyes as they walked. When he opened them again, Hester thought she could see tears glistening within them. “If my daughter was alive today, she would have been twenty… nearly as old as your sister, I believe.”

  “I… I’m afraid I do not know what to say…” Hester’s gaze dropped to the ground. She wanted to empathize with him, but nothing so terrible had ever happened to her. “My heart aches at the thought of it.”

  “Even after so much time has passed, I think of them every day. And every day, my heart heals a bit more.” As he studied Hester’s profile, Mr. Hargrave’s lips twitched into a strained smile. “Life can surprise you. If you’re lucky, you find a new reason to wake up each morning.”

  “And have you found a new reason, Mr. Hargrave?”

  “Yes…” His gaze never wavered from her face. She was younger than him—much younger—but he thought he saw promise in Hester’s gentle eyes. “I believe I have.”

  Chapter Six

  “I’m so very bored,” Cordelia moaned. She persistently tapped the same three keys on the pianoforte, over and over, as if she was composing the simplest of symphonies. Hester was knitting, and Frank was reading, as he often did. Only Cordelia found the day’s ennui to be unbearable. “So very, very bored. Where is Mr. Snowley? Why has he not come today?”

  “He was here yesterday, Cordelia. Perhaps he does not want to seem too eager?” her sister tried to reassure her.

  “Perhaps… but I would welcome his company. This day is interminably dull!” She pounded the same sharp note several times, which earned her a sneer from Frank. “What is it? Why do you look so disgusted?”

  “Your musical talent leaves something to be desired.” Frank sighed as he turned a page in his book. Not only was her music sour, it was also a bit distracting.

  “I really can play,” Cordelia assured him, “but it is not worth the effort. I needn’t exert myself when there is no one to impress.”

  “You could try to impress me,” Frank suggested with a frown.

  “True. But I daresay you are already impressed by me!” Cordelia winked at him from across the room. Frank’s tendre for her was as obvious as the nose on his face.

  Before he could protest or confirm her accusation, they were interrupted by an unwelcome guest. Shuffling into the room was Hyacinth’s scraggly dog Nomad, who was dragging something rather large within his teeth. When Hester caught sight of the dog’s loot, she gasped.

  “My slipper!” she exclaimed. “The dog has my slipper!”

  Hester threw down her knitting needles and raced toward Nomad, who hastened his pace in an attempt to abscond with her shoe. Despite having the tiniest legs imaginable, Nomad was much faster than he looked. He ran in circles, ducking and darting away from Hester’s grabbing hands. When she heard Cordelia chuckling, Hester threw an irritated glance in her sister’s direction. “Oh, you find this amusing, do you?”

  “I do,” Cordelia admitted. “I most certainly do!”

  When she saw Nomad chewing on the sole of her slipper, Hester shrilled wildly. She made another attempt to catch the thief, who eventually relinquished his treasure as he leapt onto the sofa. Hester reclaimed her slippers, which were unfortunately moistened by dog spittle. Then she seized the thief, plucked him from the sofa, and lowered him to the ground. “What a rascal!” Hester exclaimed. “Has Hyacinth never disciplined the beast?”

  “Never,” Frank affirmed. “He commits every kind of offense without any fear of retribution. Once, he found his way into my bedchamber and ruined my favorite breeches.”

  “I suppose even a small dog can wreak all sorts of havoc.” Hester studied her tattered slipper and frowned. She could see where Nomad’s teeth had been. There were tiny bite marks peppering her shoe. “Sometimes, I think small dogs are even more mischievous.”

  “I’m not sure I agree. Before Nomad entered our lives, Hyacinth had a mastiff named Tash. He was a great big brute of a dog, always stealing my food and ravaging the garden. He was a creature entirely without scruples.”

  “I love dogs. Truly, I do,” Hester began, “but they do require some guidance. They can either be your greatest friend or greatest foe.”

  They heard Cordelia groan, so they stopped their conversation and turned in her direction. When she caught them staring at her, she yawned and said, “Oh, don’t mind me. I am simply tired. And bored.”

  To Frank, Hester explained, “My sister’s need for excitement is constant and never-ending. Unlike you and me, she is not content to simply while away the day with trivialities.”

  “I would defend myself against your words, but it is true. I bore easily.” Cordelia plunked on the pianoforte a few more times, treating her companions to more sour notes. “And I am a bit tired. My lack of sleep is Mr. Snowley’s fault. Every time I find myself dozing, his handsome face invades my mind. However, I did sleep for part of the night… long enough to have a dream. As it happens…” Cordelia turned away from the pianoforte and clasped her hands in front of her. “I dreamt of you, Frank.”

  Frank’s eyes swelled. “Of me?”

  “Indeed. I dreamt that you were flying. I saw you soar into the sky, higher than the clouds! Even if it was a dream, it was an incredible sight to see.” Nomad approached Cordelia and sat at her feet, but she ignored him. “If you could fly, would that not be the most amazing thing? You would not even need to walk!”

  “Why would you dream such a thing?” Frank asked.

  “Perhaps your condition troubles me?” Cordelia shrugged. “Perhaps I wanted to see you freed from those infernal walking sticks? I cannot control my dreams any more than I can control the weather!”

  Frank could feel Hester’s eyes on him. The older sister was more intuitive and empathetic; she must have known the conversation made him uneasy. He did not want Cordelia pitying him, nor did he want to be thought of as infirm.

  “If I could have one wish, I would wish for you to be as healthy and strong as any man.” In Cordelia’s mind, her words were a kindness. In truth, they had a debilitating effect on Frank’s heart. She thought of him as weak, and it was a crushing revelation. “If you had the legs of a normal man, you could ask me to dance. It is such a shame that we shall never dance.”

  “Cordelia…” Hester uttered her sister’s name, a bit sharply. “That is quite enough!”

  “Why am I being chided? I only want the very best for Frank. Is that such a difficult thing to grasp?” Cordelia finally noticed the admirer sitting beside her feet. She scooped Nomad from the ground and cradled him to her chest like a baby. “Obviously this is a topic that neither of you wishes to discuss. I did not mean to offend you, Frank, if I did.”

  “No offense was taken,” he lied. Though her opinions were difficult to hear, he knew Cordelia was not a malicious girl. She was attempting to be thoughtful, not thoughtless. “I like to think I am not that easily offended.”

  “What did you think of Mr. Snowley?” Cordelia suddenly asked.

  “He seemed… decent,” Frank grumbled through his reply.

  “Decent!” Frank’s uninspired choice of word made Cordelia chuckle. “You did not think he was kind?”

  “He seemed amiable enough.” As Frank replied, he saw Hester wincing.

  “I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.” Cordelia gently touched her lips as she tried to imagine it. “His lips are so full and lovely… almost like a lady’s lips. And I bet they are soft, even softer than mine.”

  Hester groaned her sister’s name. “Cordelia…”

  “Oh… hush, Hes! I cannot tolerate your endless objections. Am I really so terrib
le that you need to assess and criticize my every word? I am sure every young woman dreams of kissing Alexander Snowley. He is, after all, so very, very handsome.” Nomad licked her chin, so she returned the dog to the floor and said to Frank, “You are very handsome and you have lovely lips. Perhaps I should wonder what it would be like to kiss you?”

  Though she held her tongue, Hester shook her head disapprovingly. She hated to see her sister toy with Frank’s emotions. It was a harmless flirtation to Cordelia, but a dangerous one to Frank. The danger to his heart was obvious.

  “Have you ever kissed anyone, Frank?” Cordelia crossed the room and sat beside him on the settee. “I cannot imagine you’ve had very many opportunities when you’ve been living a lonely life with Hyacinth.”

  “I…” Cordelia could see Frank’s pulse thumping in his neck as he struggled to reply. “I have not.”

  “Would you like me to kiss you?” Cordelia asked. “I don’t need to glance in Hester’s direction to see how she disapproves… I am sure she’s tempted to box my ears. But I do not care. I think you deserve a kiss.”

  Frank looked even more eager than the puppy who followed her across the room. With a racing heart, he asked, “Do you want to kiss me?”

  “I believe it would be very enjoyable.” Cordelia leaned toward him, closing the distance between his face and hers: she wasn’t going to give him a choice. When her lips brushed against his, she heard him sighing dreamily. As soon as his hand reached for her cheek, Cordelia pulled away and smiled, a bit awkwardly.

  “Do be mindful of his feelings, Cordelia,” her older sister warned her. “Frank is not your plaything.”

  “Now you are just being cruel!” Cordelia exclaimed. “Frank is hardly my plaything! I care about him! I care about him very much, and I would never hurt him. How could you even make such a terrible suggestion?”