Spinster Ever After

by Rebecca Connolly

  Why would her friends wish to continue to be such? She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, would never wish to, but hurt had been felt, and she had done nothing to stop it.

  Finally managing a swallow, Charlotte then cleared her throat. “If you and your husband would come to dine with my family on Thursday, we would be much obliged.”

  Elinor’s brows rose slowly. “What?”

  Charlotte nodded, the idea taking on more merit and a greater hold the longer it lingered in her mind. “Yes. Please, if you like.” She continued to nod, the speed of her thought picking up. “Hugh would likely detest having to endure supper without any perceived allies. I must be the devil in petticoats.” She immediately turned to Georgie, smiling. “Would you and Tony come? I’ll invite Francis, Janet, and Alice, too. What about Hensh? Do you think Hensh would make Hugh comfortable?”

  “Can I interrupt this sudden excursion into invitation generosity?” Grace interjected, laughing once. “When did we start calling him Hensh? I missed that announcement, and it sounds like the noise one makes on a sneeze.”

  Snickers rippled around the room, and Charlotte, feeling slightly lighter at seeing Elinor join in, scowled playfully at Grace. “It is a sign of affection, Grace, which I think Lieutenant Henshaw deserves, and if I could shorten Aubrey’s name without seeming unfashionably intimate, I daresay I would.”

  Grace made a face and put a hand to her cheek. “Please don’t say ‘unfashionably intimate’ when talking about my husband ever again.”

  The snickers turned to full blown laughter, and Charlotte was relieved to be able to join in. She hadn’t felt much like laughing of late, though laughter tended to be a habitual reaction even when there was no amusement to be found. She could laugh about anything and everything, had made a practice of doing so for the benefit of those around her for years, but to actually feel the desire to laugh… That hadn’t been with her in some time.

  “Shortening names can be very sweet,” Izzy reminded them when the laughter faded. “Molly Hastings, Edith’s lovely new ward, calls her uncle, Lord Radcliffe, ‘Gray’ rather than his given name of Graham, which I find charming.”

  Charlotte nodded, then cocked her head. “Is it odd, though, that he is not Uncle Radcliffe? Or Uncle Graham, at least. I wouldn’t dream of addressing any of my aunts or uncle without their formal family connection. It’s so peculiar.”

  “But your Uncle Herbert did not bring you up from the time you could barely speak a full sentence,” Grace reminded her, smiling fondly. “Radcliffe is raising that sweet girl, and no doubt, he will be the only father she remembers. She could hardly call him ‘Papa’, so why not a fond name of equal affection?”

  “I’m not judging them, Grace,” Charlotte insisted with a wave of her hands. “Heavens, you forget that I called my grandfather Pumpernickel before he died, much to the chagrin of my parents. And Uncle Herbert, come to think.”

  Grace simpered, clasping her hands before her heart. “Did you? That’s precious.”

  Charlotte only snorted before returning her attention to Elinor. “I do mean the invitation, Elinor. And everything it says that we aren’t saying in so many words.”

  Elinor smiled in response, her cheeks coloring as a testament that she was more pleased than she would admit.

  And just like that, the friendships were as pristine as ever.

  Fortunate, as Charlotte had a very great need for them just now.

  She cleared her throat again, sitting up and barely avoiding the temptation to bite her lip. “Elinor, do you still have your records of the eligible bachelors in Society?”

  Elinor lowered her teacup, swallowing as her brow furrowed. “Of course I do. Your column on London’s best bachelors was our most popular issue, so I’ve continued on for when you start to run it annually. Perhaps at the start of the Season, say?”

  “What a brilliant thought!” Izzy exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight. “It would be such a lovely tradition of sorts, don’t you think, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte smiled with a thrill of satisfaction, not for the idea of an annual review of preferable bachelors, though the idea had more than enough merit to dwell upon later, but for the availability of the resources.

  Most capital.

  “I will need the collection of them as soon as possible,” Charlotte said without directly answering Izzy.

  “Whatever for?” asked Elinor with a laugh. “The Season is practically over now, and it would undoubtedly do nothing for anyone.”

  Charlotte lifted a brow, her smile curving further still. “It would do a great deal for me, seeing as I’m obtaining a husband.”

  The room stilled with the power of a thunderclap and the somberness of a funeral. Every eye was fixed upon her, and every eye was round in shock.

  It was perfectly comical, and Charlotte could have burst for laughing.

  “I beg your pardon,” Georgie eventually said with a wry, almost stiff giggle. “I thought you said you were obtaining a husband.”

  “I thought she said that, as well,” Grace replied without any hint of laughter, her lips barely moving. “Extraordinary sensation.”

  Elinor gaped freely at Charlotte. “That’s because she did say it. Charlotte Wright, are you ill?”

  “Not at all.” Charlotte folded her hands calmly in her lap. “Why shouldn’t I? The rest of you have husbands, and it is no longer fashionable to be a spinster and write for the Spinster Chronicles. One does not wish to stand out so conspicuously.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason to marry,” Georgie snapped, any hint of amusement gone. “Who in the world have you decided to wed?”

  This wasn’t going according to plan at all, not that she’d specifically ironed anything out into specifics. That was what she had hoped they would do here, but clearly, she’d have to explain herself first. Provided she could explain herself without baring her soul. They might persuade her out of it if she did that.

  “No one in particular,” she replied with a shrug. “Hence my need for Elinor’s information. I need to know who my options are, and which man would be best to pursue.”

  Her friends looked around at each other in disbelief, then looked at her again.

  “I already hate this plan,” Grace muttered. She sat back roughly on the sofa, her posture slouched and entirely inappropriate for a lady of her station. “The phrase ‘obtaining a husband’ is not intended to be an orderly process of selection as though we are fetching something from the grocer.”

  “Why not?” Charlotte shot back. “I’m an agreeable person, and my charms are not inconsiderable. I’m willing to fall in love now, so why should it not be a straightforward process?”

  Georgie put a hand over her face and exhaled with a groan, which seemed entirely unnecessary. “It’s as though you learned nothing from what the rest of us went through. Charlotte, you cannot plan such things!”

  “I disagree.” Charlotte shook her head emphatically. “I am determined to marry, and to marry for love, and when I want something, I get it.”

  None of them had a rebuttal for her there, likely because they knew it was true. Charlotte was many things, but she had never in her life lacked determination, will, or commitment. Fate itself would make way for Charlotte Wright when she was on her mettle.

  With an almost smug lift of her shoulders, Charlotte grinned around at her friends. “So, how should I do it? Pick a date for my wedding and will it into existence?”

  Izzy’s mouth popped open in shock. “Why in the world would you do that?”

  “Why would you think that would work?” Elinor sputtered in derision.

  Georgie’s hand dropped from her face as she gave Charlotte a hard look. “Nobody has ever said ‘Oh, I think I’ll get married on October the second,’ and then miraculously found their true love on a schedule! If you want to marry John Brown from Kent and have no care for affection, that might work, but if you want something emotionally substantial, that’s just a load of tosh and nonsense.”


  “How would you know?” Charlotte asked, folding her arms as she considered Georgie. “You didn’t try it.”

  Her friend scoffed softly. “I have a modicum of sense, Charlotte, which is apparently more than you have.”

  Charlotte sniffed and looked over at Grace, who had yet to say anything. The beautiful woman stared at nothing in particular, but in Charlotte’s general direction. Her expression was thoughtful, but not troubled.

  She would take that as a good sign.

  “Grace?” she prodded. “What do you think?

  Grace blinked, her expression clearing as her eyes focused on Charlotte. Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t say much at all. “I think you’ll have a difficult time forcing love into a schedule or picking it out of a file of options. I presume you don’t want to marry for comfort?”

  Charlotte shuddered and made a face. “No, indeed. I’ve always said I wanted a love match, and I will marry for nothing less. I have independent wealth and connections, so matrimony only makes sense if it is for love. And I refuse to surrender myself for the sake of something as paltry as comfort as Emma did.” She bit her lip and glanced at Elinor in apprehension. “Apologies if you…”

  Elinor shook her head, holding up a hand. “No need. Mr. Partlowe was not my choice for my sister, nor did she love him, but I believe they have a warm relationship now. And Mr. Partlowe has been quite kind to Hugh since our marriage.” She smiled, looking more like herself than she had all afternoon. “If you want to find love, Charlotte, you can’t command it into being. Believe me, if it happened that way, my husband would not be Hugh Sterling.”

  “A great pity, then,” Charlotte commented, smiling for effect, relieved when it was returned. “No, I don’t intend to command love and order it to exist between myself and the man of my choosing. I ask for the information so that I know where to look.”

  Izzy sat forward, her brow puckering in confusion. “What about your usual circle? Surely you know enough of them to start encouraging…”

  Charlotte silenced her with a look. “Izzy, have you seen my circle? I wouldn’t invite a single one of them to take my dog for a walk, let alone to court me in truth.”

  Elinor snorted a laugh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Charlotte, that is too perfect. What have you been doing all these years if they were all so stupid?”

  “Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same thing for some time now,” Charlotte muttered. She reached forward to snatch a teacake from the platter, choosing not to bother with a plate or any real show of manners. “A complete waste of energy.”

  “I would give anything to have Prue and Cam in London for this…” Grace laughed, clapping her hands. “We have to write them.”

  Charlotte chewed quickly, then swallowed. “Oh, I’ve done that already. I suspect Cam will have a great deal to say shortly, provided the impending arrival of Miss Vale hasn’t got him entirely distracted.”

  “So sure it’s a girl, are you?” Georgie hummed in consideration, laughing to herself. “You’ll be very disappointed when it’s a boy.”

  “Not as disappointed as Cam, to be sure.” Charlotte looked over at an empty chair, sighing. “I do wish Edith was here, though. She’s got a head full of sense, and I daresay I could use it.”

  “Her head is full of love at the moment, so I’m not sure it would help.” Izzy shrugged, rubbing her hands together. “Are you sure about this, Charlotte? You really want to find someone you can love and marry?”

  Charlotte smiled at Izzy, undoubtedly her sweetest friend. “I’ve always wanted to do this, Izzy. From the very beginning, this was what I wanted. I just didn’t let myself do anything about it until now.” Her smile grew, and she sat back in her chair more comfortably. “I fully intend to do something about it now. So help me get on with it, will you?”

  Chapter Four

  When starting out on a new adventure or journey, one should ensure that they have the appropriate allies to accompany them. Without allies, one would not get very far, and what sort of journey would that be?

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 7 July 1819

  Michael Sandford had no friends.

  That wasn’t true, he had plenty of friends; fellows he’d met at school, gentlemen of Society he’d associated with at events, and various other individuals that years in London had brought into his circle. The problem was that none of those friends were here.

  Not a one.

  What did it say about a man that he sat at a table at his club alone without anything to fill his time? More than once, Michael had looked around for a friendly face, and while many were familiar, none were his friends in truth. Just associates. Friends of Charlotte’s.

  Not of his. Never his.

  Wasn’t this just a delightful way to start his new way of life?

  He stared moodily at the drink before him, one he’d hardly touched and had minimal interest in. What in the world was he even doing here? How was this going to help him?

  The short answer was, of course, it wasn’t. But it always seemed that when a gentleman had nothing better to do, he went to his club. Michael had never been much of a club-goer, so he wasn’t entirely sure what one did there. Aside from sit, read, and gossip, that is.

  Rather like a meeting of the Spinsters might have been.

  Michael looked down at his hands as a bout of near-hysterical laughter threatened to rise and roll out of him. That would certainly get him thrown out of Brooks’s, and he couldn’t have that right now.

  His club was all he had.

  The image of the Spinsters with a capital S gathering in a gentleman’s club and fitting right in, however, was something he was not going to forget for some time. He couldn’t wait to tell Charlotte.

  He frowned at the habitual thought. It was things like this impulse that he needed to adjust, or he would never find a life away from her. He’d be the fool adjusting the lace on her bonnet on her wedding day, watching her walk down the aisle of the church to marry some classically handsome prat she thought good enough to give up her independence for. He’d be godfather to at least one of her children, and always be invited to her family events, which would eventually irritate her husband and cause some deeply seated resentment and thinly veiled threats.

  Good heavens, that was where his life was headed. He could see it clearly before him, and it was pathetic. Completely and utterly pathetic.

  He returned his attention to his drink, wondering if he should down the whole thing at once, or behave like the gentleman he was supposed to be in this club.

  “What, may I ask, did your drink do to deserve such a scowl?”

  Michael looked up at the sound of the almost familiar voice, his mind scrambling to place it. Nothing could have surprised him more than to see Hugh Sterling standing there, looking far more kempt than Michael had seen him in years. He was thinner, yet more robust, his clothing fine without any sense of opulence, and his smile was hesitant.

  Had he not known it was Hugh Sterling, he would not have recognized him as Hugh Sterling. He’d heard about the change in him but had yet to see it.

  Now he had.

  Michael managed to smile back. “It failed to give me adequate answers.”

  Hugh winced playfully. “I have yet to find a drink that appropriately answers anything, and I’ve tried my share of them.” He gestured to the seat opposite Michael. “May I?”

  “Please,” Michael replied with a nod.

  It was pleasantly disconcerting, if such a thing existed, to have a changed Hugh Sterling at the table. They had never been friends, though they had certainly been acquainted, but Michael had certainly heard enough from Charlotte on the subject of Hugh. He knew every perceived sin the man had committed against the Spinsters, against his family, and against any member of Society.

  He also knew that Elinor had softened enough towards the man to actually fall in love with him. Given where the girl had come from in her opinions of him, that had been no small thing, and w
ell worth considering when the subject of Hugh came up. As far as Michael was aware, Society as a whole had yet to pass judgment on the change, or even on the couple, as they still kept to themselves more often than not.

  Even seeing Hugh here in the club was something unexpected, though Michael could very well say the same for himself. Perhaps there was some significance in that for them both.

  “I haven’t seen you in here for some time,” Hugh remarked as he leaned back in his chair, surveying Michael with some interest.

  Michael lifted a corner of his mouth. “I was just thinking the same of you.”

  Hugh shrugged with a nonchalance that bore no superiority. “I haven’t any friends remaining with my change of perspective. You?”

  “I haven’t any friends that are not Charlotte Wright.” Michael offered a bland smile as an accompaniment to his words.

  “Ah.”

  The simple word held an entire existence in its syllable.

  It conveyed that Hugh understood the weight of the statement. That he saw the reason behind its utterance. That he saw Michael in his well-established role and could infer the necessary details without further explanation. Perhaps he believed that either Michael was more pathetic than he’d originally thought, or Elinor Sterling had confided a certain announcement to her husband.

  Perhaps both.

  Yet Hugh said nothing further, which bore witness to his increase in wisdom. The version of Hugh Sterling that Michael had previously known would have begun to berate Charlotte, if not Michael’s behavior, in an attempt to form some show of solidarity. It would have failed miserably, but he had never been one to keep his opinion from the ears of others.

  Now he was the opposite.

  Oddly enough, Michael found himself actually wanting to discuss Charlotte and his present situation. He might not have considered Hugh a potential candidate for a listening ear originally, but opportunity made for strange adjustments.